by Amelia Wilde
Miguel, our captain, is stretched out smoking a joint. “Sexy Zee,” he says smiling. “Have a hit?”
“No thanks.” I shake my head and give him a wave. “I’m not in the mood for grass.”
“Drinks in the cabin.”
Nodding, I start down the ladder, but I pause midway. “Thanks for taking us out today.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t have anything else to do. Beautiful day, beautiful view.” He winks and nods toward the bow.
“Yeah.”
Miguel is harmless, and he’s always been nice to us since we arrived in south Florida. Our first few days, I snooped around the docks looking for scraps and easy work. He hired me to be first mate on a few of his snorkeling charters, and in return, I’ve sent him business pretty regularly. Him being at the dock today looking for tourists was a stroke of luck, and now three lucky breaks in a row has me looking over my shoulder.
I spray sunscreen on my chest and arms then lean down and coat my knees again. A little more lotion on my face, a refill of rum punch, and I’m headed back up front to where my sister is sitting cross-legged, looking into the breeze.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted anything, sorry,” I say, sitting on my towel again.
“It’s okay. I’ll get something in a minute.” She’s looking up and down the shoreline. “One goes down, and another, bigger one springs up in its place.”
Following her gaze, I think about where we are and where we’re headed. “We should try to get a job at one of those places.”
“A nine to five?” She looks at me like I just sprouted an additional head.
I trace a path along the frosted edge of my glass with my finger. The pink beverage inside is thick and sweet. “We gotta do better than this, Ava-bug. This is no kind of long-term plan.”
She growls softly and stretches her legs in the sun. “You always get like this after a big job. You’re small-time, Zelda Wilder.”
Her carnival barker voice makes me grin. “What are you talking about?”
“The more zeros you bring home, the more you fret about changing the way we live. How we gotta do better than this.” She’s imitating me now.
I think about how I’m feeling. “We are better than this. At least you are.”
“Better than the cheating husbands who grab my ass? Okay, sure.” Scooting closer, her voice gets a little harder. “Better than the casino owners who rig the games to dribble out a little money at a time so the addicts keep coming back for more? I guess I’m better than them.”
Lifting my glass, I smile as I take a drink. “See how smart you are? You should be in school somewhere learning how to run a business.”
Ava eases back onto her towel, tilting her head to the side. “I’m no smarter than you are. I’ve learned everything I know from watching you.”
I groan a laugh. “That’s not encouraging.”
We’re still again, listening to the sounds of the ocean, the waves splashing gently as the catamaran cuts through the water, the birds overhead, the occasional tug of a cruise ship passing in the distance, taking off for some Caribbean voyage.
In my mind I replay last night, my time at the table, the old man who slipped up behind me and tried to pull a fast one. My little sister at the bar touching security guards, leaning forward to give them a teasing glimpse of her cleavage as she steals their gold bracelets.
“It never ends,” I answer. “Or it ends badly.”
“Which is why you love it.” Her forceful reply snaps me from my melancholy thoughts. “You would be miserable doing anything else. You live for the adrenaline rush of going in there, taking chances, not knowing what might happen from one moment to the next.”
“Maybe.” I can’t deny what she’s saying, but I can’t let her win that easily. “Still… Momma would’ve expected me to do better by you.”
“Don’t you do that.” She grabs my arm in a surprisingly strong grip. Our eyes meet, blue on green, and I see the fierce protectiveness burning in hers. “You saved me. You got us away from those abusive assholes. Don’t you ever think Momma would doubt you. I never will.”
We stare at each other, and as much as I don’t want it, my mind goes tripping back to that last night in foster care. To the sweaty, meaty hands running up my little sister’s smooth legs, higher… to the hem of her gown as she lay still as a statue shivering and praying. I saw the fear in her eyes, and I snapped.
Bile rises in my throat, and I remember taking the lamp and smashing it over his head moments before we ran. “I didn’t have a plan,” I confess. “I just couldn’t let him touch you like that.”
“You kept me from being hurt. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”
I exhale, straightening my legs and looking down at my drink. “I’m your sister. You don’t have to repay me.”
I’m back in that concrete culvert holding her small body as she cries. I’m vowing to do whatever it takes to keep us on the road, free, even though I have no idea how the hell I’ll do it.
I’m lost in thought as a blast of noise cuts through our tranquility. The loud buzz of a speedboat races toward our vessel.
“What the—” Ava’s voice trails off as she reaches for her cover-up, and I turn in time to see a gleaming wood, clearly expensive cruiser glide up beside us.
The captain reaches for the side of the catamaran and throws a rope across just as my eyes register his passenger. It’s the Frenchman from last night! Mr. Thousand-dollar Chip!
“Miguel,” I scream. I scream until my voice cracks, but it’s no good. He’s asleep in the back, and the noise of the boat drowns me out.
The speedboat captain puts one foot across to our boat, and before I can protest, he grips my arm roughly, jerking me off the catamaran and into the bed of his cruiser.
“You too, Miss!” he yells at Ava, whose eyes are round saucers.
Uncertainty ripples through her limbs, and I see her trying to decide whether to follow me, or run and try to wake Miguel.
“Stay where you are, Ava!” I shout. “I’ll be okay.”
“Zee?” That tremor of fear I haven’t heard since the night we ran is in her voice.
The Frenchman steps up on the side of the cruiser and holds out his hand. “Please come with us, Mademoiselle.” His voice is low and smooth. “I won’t hurt you. We have business to discuss.”
Her brow lines, and her eyes flicker to mine. She’s like a sparrow caught in a trap. I turn my attention to the well-dressed man speaking to my sister. Living on the street has taught me to read people, and one thing I’ve learned is when someone intends to hurt you, they don’t typically mention business. They don’t make requests. They push you down or pull out a weapon.
Ava doesn’t move, waiting for my direction. With a fortifying breath, I nod. Her posture is defensive, but she scoops up my bathing suit cover before placing her small hand in his and climbing slowly across to the speedboat.
Once she’s in, the man turns to me. “Sir Reginald Winchester.” He extends a hand, but I’m trying to figure him out.
Today he’s dapper in khaki slacks and a white polo shirt with a navy blazer on top. His dark hair is streaked with grey, and that moniker sounds like royalty.
“Zelda Wilder,” I say, not shaking his hand. “How did you find us out here?”
“There’s very little money won’t buy, Miss Wilder, including the whereabouts of an attractive, street-smart blonde with a brunette who could pass for a model.”
Chewing my lips, I silently acknowledge what Seth has been saying all along. It’s hard to fly under the radar with Ava.
“Zee! Zee!” I look over my shoulder to see Miguel is up and waving frantically at us from the catamaran. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Tell him you’re fine,” Sir Reginald Winchester says to me in a low voice.
I survey the plush speedboat we’re in and the relaxed captain waiting for further instruction.
“Will it be a lie?” I ask, arching an e
yebrow.
“Of course not. As I told your sister, I have no intention of hurting you.”
A few moments pass, and I study his steel grey eyes. I see something in them, something I recognize—and it’s not deception.
Stepping to the side, I call back to our friend. “If we’re not back in an hour, call the police.”
He hesitates, looking from me to the captain of the speedboat to the tall man standing beside me.
“One hour,” he shouts, and I nod, giving him a wave.
“Let’s go,” the man to my right says, and the speedboat roars to life. “Please, take your seats.”
Ava is already sitting with her arms hugging her stomach. I take the seat beside my sister, putting a protective hand on her. Miguel doesn’t move as we turn and shoot away from where he’s anchored.
“A thousand dollars for an hour.” The man’s accent is thick, and it makes his words sound slurry. “Your time is quite valuable.”
“Then you’d better get on with it,” I snap.
Unlike Ava, I’m sitting straight, unafraid on the outside, shaking like a leaf on the inside. This could be one of the dumbest decisions my curiosity has made.
The man laughs as he reclines in the leather seat beside me. “I like your spirit, Miss Wilder. I was quite captivated by it last night at the tables.”
“Is that why you pulled that stunt with the chip? You must think I don’t watch movies.”
His eyebrow quirks, and his blue eyes twinkle. “Hats off to you. Few people would catch the Hitchcock reference.”
“Our parents loved classic movies,” Ava’s voice is quiet.
“No, I used the ‘stunt with the chip’ as you put it hoping I might secure a meeting with you.”
“Perhaps you should look up the term backfire in your French-to-English dictionary.”
His expression hardens, and he straightens his coat. “I’m an official in the Monagasco government, and the con you pulled at the roulette wheel last night was first executed in one of our most luxurious casinos. Only that time, they used a pack of cigarettes to activate the transmitter.”
My stomach drops. He’s with the gambling commission! Ice filters through my veins, and my mouth goes dry. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do.” He’s smiling, but it’s like the cat that has the mouse cornered and is ready to pounce. “The trick you and Mr. Kentucky pulled involved your gold bracelet emitting a radio transmission that guided the ball into one of three possible trays.”
Ava stiffens at my back, and I’m glad she’s wearing her dark sunglasses. My sister does not have a poker face—one of the many reasons I don’t let her gamble.
“You must have watched one too many movies yourself, Mr. Winchester. I’d never laid eyes on that man from Kentucky before last night.”
He’s quiet, smiling as we continue to bounce along the waves. A little spray of water shoots over the side, and he pulls out a cloth handkerchief to wipe it away.
“That’s good,” he nods. “Very good. You lie in broad daylight as well as you lie in the evening. I suspected as much.”
I’m sick of this shit. “You’d better get to your business before you run out of time.”
“My business won’t take long to explain. We’ve time for a little polite conversation.”
“I’m not known for being polite.”
“Or for being honest,” he grins, “but I won’t hold it against you.”
“You took a chance. Too bad it didn’t pay off for you.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” His eyes move to my sister, and then back to me. “I’ve got other things in mind.”
Scooting closer to her, I lower my brow. “You and every other straight man on the planet. Take a hike, Frenchie. She’s not interested.”
He leans his head back and laughs loudly. “What did you call me?”
“I’ll call you worse than that if you try to put your pampered hands on my sister.”
The cloth handkerchief is back out, and he’s dabbing his eyes as he shakes his head. “You’re mistaken, Miss Wilder, it’s you I want.”
My heart lurches, and I speak before I realize. “Me?”
“We got off on the wrong foot.” He holds both hands up. “I only meant to say I admire your work. I have a proposition for you that will make that thousand-dollar chip look like… how do you say? Chicken feed?”
We’ve slowed to a crawl, and the waves rock the small boat roughly. I study his expression. All the humor is gone. He’s serious.
I frown, but he rises from his seat with a flourish. “I have a job for you that would eclipse all others. If you’re successful, you’ll never work again for the rest of your life.” His eyebrow cocks. “Unless you get bored and simply want to.”
So many questions jam together in my brain, I don’t know which to ask first.
Ava’s hand tightens on my arm. “What is your proposition?” she says.
The man winks and does a little point at her. “I see you have a head for business, Miss…”
“You can call me Ava.”
“He’s not calling you anything.” I grab the reins on the conversation. “I don’t like your looks.”
“Not a problem,” he says, waving a hand. “I’m not the one you’ll be interacting with. Does the name Rowan Westringham Tate mean anything to you?”
Ava and I shake our heads no. “Who is he?” she asks.
“He’s the crown prince of Monagasco, and believe me, women do like his looks, very much. Some men as well, from what I understand—”
“What about him?” I’m impatient.
For the first time, I see anger fire in our host’s eyes. “I have a score to settle with his royal highness.” Reginald’s jaw clenches, and he levels his gaze on me in a way that makes my insides squirm. “I confess I never saw you coming, but you are perfect. You’re the answer to my prayers.”
“Your twisted prayers, I’ll bet.”
“Hear me out.” He returns to his seat facing me. “Last night you demonstrated your skill with playing a part all the way to the end. You showed you don’t crack under pressure, and you’re quick on your feet.”
“What’s your point?” Flattery has never distracted me from the bottom line.
“The way royal succession works in our country, when the parliament decides the heir is ready to take the throne, they propose a formal referendum upon which the people vote.” He leans back, and I don’t like the darkness in his eyes. “I have a plan to expose the crown prince of Monagasco for the immature, selfish… careless leader he is. A leader who jeopardizes the future of our country.”
“Is that so?” I say, shifting uncomfortably.
“He won’t listen to his advisors. He threw out the cabinet. The only way to break him is to show him he’s a fool—to demonstrate it for the entire country to see.”
I don’t like the sound of this. “I don’t have a dog in your fight. Why do you need me?”
“It’s very simple, actually.” He straightens, the menacing expression gone. “You will pose as the heir of Lux Benedict, a colleague of mine who I’ve recently established as a Texas oil baron.”
“Hang on…” I’m following his words closely. “Is your friend really a Texas oil baron?”
“Of course not.”
“And you think that’s going to work?”
“Again, you’d be surprised what money can do. As Benedict’s niece, I’ll escort you to Monagasco on a holiday—Ava can be your sister or your friend, whatever makes you comfortable. While there, you just happen to cross paths with the dashing future king. You fall in love, he proposes, makes a grand public engagement, and Voilà! You’re free to leave. I’ll take care of the rest.”
My mouth has dropped open. Ava’s hand is still on my arm, but she’s not talking either.
Reginald grins. “Did you never dream of being a princess when you were a little girl?”
“No.” I glance over my shoulder,
and my eyes meet Ava’s. “I dreamed of finding us a safe place to sleep, of no one catching us stealing food or breaking into boathouses when it rained. I dreamed of a place where we didn’t have to be afraid…”
“Of course, your experience was different.”
“We learned to cope in ways most people never do.”
My words seem to invigorate him. “Which is why you must say yes to me now.” He scoots forward slightly and takes my hand. “You’ll be pampered, treated to the finest clothes, food, wine… You’ll stay in the most luxurious suites, and visit the most beautiful beaches in Europe.”
Sliding my hand out of his, I scoot back. “And in the meantime I help you humiliate some guy I don’t even know in front of his entire country?”
“It’s to save the country.”
My eyes flicker up, over his shoulder, and I see Miguel in the distance. Perfect timing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester—”
“Call me Reggie.”
“I’m sorry, Reggie, but that’s not who I am. You’ve got the wrong girl.” Ava makes a noise like a puppy behind me. “Find someone else to play your game. We’re not interested.”
He leans back, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
I pause and study his disappointed expression. “Come to what?”
“You owe me money, Miss Wilder. I was hoping you’d agree to help me without the need for coercion. However, if you choose to be difficult, I’m afraid you’ll force my hand.”
My fists tighten, and I’m ready for a fight. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He rises, and to my dismay, without my heels on, my face only reaches the middle of his chest. I’m like a petulant child.
“Last night at the roulette table, I took pictures of you activating your bracelet. I’d hate to turn them over to the gambling commission. I also requested the security footage from the coatroom, which shows your sister trading out my thousand-dollar plaque for the fifty-dollar chip, which makes her your accomplice.”
He reaches down to straighten first his left cuff then his right. “Third-degree Grand Theft is a felony in Florida with the penalty of five years in prison, not to mention your unforgettable faces blasted to every casino security team across the U.S.”