MacCallum Lockwood Tate

The enormous jet touches down in the midst of a blinding Miami rainstorm. Powering off my laptop, I look out the window at the palm trees swaying in the wind as we taxi, and my mind drifts to the last time I saw Zee.

She was asleep in her bed at the Fairmont Hotel. Her blue eyes closed, a thick, pale blonde curl lay across her cheek, and her adorable mouth was relaxed. Still, I could hear her sassy voice, imagine the sparkle in her blue eyes as she taunted me. It made me laugh softly, and I’d wanted to wake her. I’d wanted to hear her voice and make love to her, but I had to get to the track.

Instead, I left her a note, telling her how amazing our night had been, starting with that fuck on the boat—jesus! I gave her my heart that time… Followed by that ice-cold, unexpected swim.

Watching the wind batter the palms, I shake my head. It all makes sense now—her panic, the reason she ran that night, her fear of being caught. I remember my shock at seeing her going out the window. Of course I went right after her. Just like I’m going after her now.

During the twelve-hour flight, I caught up on everything I’ve missed. Rowan emailed me explaining what Zelda said, what Ava told him—how Reggie found them in a casino in Miami, how he threatened them unless they helped with his plan to oust my brother, how they discovered it was all a ruse. Reggie used them to get back into the country so he could continue his plan to seize control of the government.

I confess, I’m surprised by how far our uncle is willing to go—to kill his own family—in order to ensure the success of his plans. My chest tightens when I realize how dangerous this situation is for Zelda. If these men won’t back down from killing the crown prince, removing Zelda will be like swatting a fly.

She’s the only person who can directly tie them to the crimes, and I intend to find her and take her back to Monagasco.

Rowan also let me know Wade Paxton has gone off the grid. Even though he’s been stripped of his title, we have no reason to believe he’s lost his power or his connections. If he’s been planning this for years, Zelda’s right—we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. And we have to watch our backs. It makes finding her even more urgent. At home I can keep her safe. I can keep her by my side.

We lost track of her once she and Seth landed in Miami, but Ava gave us two possible starting points—a woman named Helen Regis and a Ramada Hollywood Downtown. I have the address, and it’s where we plan to start.

The plane finally stops moving, and a low tone sounds in the cabin. The lights flicker on, and we all stand, including Logan across the aisle from me, and Freddie a row in front of me.

We’re using fake names, and we’re dressed casually in jeans and button-down shirts. Our reason for this visit will be stated as “pleasure.” We’re simply European businessmen spending a week in South Beach. It’s the best way to stay ahead of the game.

“I’ve made contact with our local guys,” Freddie says, once we’re through customs. “They’ll meet us in the parking garage with weapons and vehicles.”

“What’s the latest on this weather?” I look out the window at the typhoon in which we’ve landed.

“Typical Miami rain?” Logan suggests.

“Let’s hope it pushes through quickly.”

We’re in the garage, taking the elevator to the second to top level. Down twelve rows and over three, I see our men waiting beside a black SUV and a smaller black Mercedes sedan.

“That’s not conspicuous at all,” I say, shaking hands with Ronald Delahousse, our local contact. His light brown hair is longish and messy, and he’s dressed the same way we are, except he has a thin nylon jacket on top.

He does a slight bow. “Your grace.” He hands me a black leather wallet. “U.S. passport, Florida driver’s license, and credit cards for one Bill Aucoin.”

At the rear of the sedan, he opens the trunk and lifts the mat. Two rifles and a store of ammunition are housed in a secret compartment.

“Nice,” I say.

“In the console area, you will find a drop-down compartment containing a thirty-five millimeter and a Diamondback DB-9.”

“That would be a…?”

“Four-inch nine-millimeter handgun,” he says. “Both are fully loaded.”

“Sounds like we’re all set.”

He hands me the keys to the sedan, and I wave to Logan and Freddie. They’ll shadow me to the hotel then wait from the SUV as I pretend to reserve a room. We’ll maintain contact through our smart watches, which has the added benefit of letting them know my heart is still beating. I’ve worked with these guys before. They’re two of the best from my regiment.

It takes a half-hour to reach the hotel in the rain. I pull into the parking lot, giving it a brief scan for anything unusual. All is grey and quiet in the downpour. I reach into the console and take out the tiny pistol. It’s the size of my palm, and once I’m standing, I slide it into my jeans pocket before dashing into the lobby.

“Wahoo! You made it just in time for the hurricane party!” A tall, dark-haired male behind the desk is smiling and lively.

“Is a hurricane coming?” I glance behind me out the front doors. The black SUV is parallel parked on the street.

“Nah, it’s just a thunderstorm, but any excuse for a party, right?” He does finger guns at me. “That’s some accent. You from Louisiana?”

“Sure,” I say, looking away to inspect the run-down lobby. Not the greatest part of town.

“Well, laissez les bon temps rouler!” He sings as he steps to the computer. I smile, playing along as I reach for my fake identification. “How long you staying with us, big guy?”

“One night.” I hand over the license and credit card.

“Oh!” The guy squints at the card, and I my smile tightens. “How do you say that name? Aye-you-coin?”

“Close.” My shoulders relax, and I smile. “Oh-kwan.”

“I wasn’t close!” he laughs. Then he whispers, staring at my card. “Oh-kwan… oh-kwan…”

Holding my hand out, I cock a brow. “May I have it back?”

“Oh, sure!” He passes it across. “Room 204. Elevator’s around the corner. Enjoy your stay!”

“Thanks.”

He’s back to doing a little dance, playing on his phone, and I slip around the corner. The room I’m searching for is on the second floor, but it’s on the other side of the hotel. I head straight down the empty hall, noting the faded carpets and peeling wallpaper.

“I’m en route,” I say softly at my wrist, my eyes trained on the corner up ahead.

I haven’t passed anyone in the hall, and I can only guess it’s because of the unfashionable location or the poor weather—or both.

Around the corner, I stop as a blast of damp, warm air hits me. Keeping my back against the wall, I look down to see the exterior door is cracked, letting the rain and humid wind stream through the opening.

A quick glance to my right, and I see the room in question. My pulse ticks faster.

“I need backup,” I say quietly in my watch. “Enter from the pool area. The back door is open.”

A light thump from my watch tells me they’re on the way. I fish out the small gun from my pocket and slowly creep down the shadowy hall. A flash of lightning makes me realize the power is out in the hotel, or at least in this wing.

Crossing quickly, I press my back against the opposite wall, on the same side as my destination. I have my gun against my chest, and I slide my hand out, testing the doorknob. It falls open easily.

“Shit,” I say so quietly, it’s not even a breath. I look to my right again. Come on, guys.

I’m standing at the last known whereabouts of Helen Regis, and I’m not about to enter until Logan and Freddie are in sight. No telling what I might walk into. Freddie is as tall as me, but a bit leaner, faster. Logan is both taller and beefier. They’re the perfect combination in situations like this.

The soft noise of the exterior door opening makes me tense until my partners dash up, shaking water from their clothes. Nodding, I hold a finger to my lips before pointing to the door. Freddie takes the opposite wall, and Logan is right beside me.

Stretching out my leg, I kick it open, and Freddie points his gun straight ahead. Everything freezes.

I hold my breath, waiting, and…

Nothing.

Silence greets us from inside. A low rumble of thunder fills the quiet as we start to breathe again.

“Let’s go,” I whisper.

Freddie strides forward, stepping into the black room and reaching to flick the light switch. No dice. I’m right behind him as he pulls out a flashlight, and we quickly scan the seemingly vacant space. No luggage, no sign anyone’s slept in the bed.

Pushing back the heavy curtains fills the room with grey daylight. “She must’ve checked out,” Logan says behind me, moving around the magazines and a white plastic binder with his gun.

“Check the bathroom,” I tell Freddie, and he nods.

He’s only in the small, closet-sized space a moment. The noise of the shower curtain moving, and he calls to me. “Sir? I think I’ve found her.”

Logan and I both rush to where he’s waiting, and there, in the tub, lies a large, female body. She’s wearing sweatpants and a shirt that reads, “I pooped today!”

A plastic bag is over her head, tied at the neck, and it’s dotted with moisture. I’m just about to pull out our information to identify the body when the room phone blasts out a ring.

We all freeze, our eyes meet, and I take a second to decide what to do. “Identify her,” I say, snatching a towel off the rack.

The harsh, metallic noise blasts another ring, and I slowly approach where it sits on the laminate table. One more ring, and I pick it up with the towel, holding the receiver near my ear without touching my skin.

I don’t speak. Instead, I wait for the person calling to go first.

Silence. They’re waiting as well.

I’m breathing fast, thinking as Freddie walks out of the bathroom. Clearing my throat, I pretend to cough.

“Helen?” the female voice I’ve been desperate to hear speaks.

“Zelda?” I say just as fast. “Zelda, it’s Cal—where are you?”

Logan stumbles out of the bathroom, holding a towel over his mouth and nose. “It’s her,” he says.

“Zelda?” I say again fast. “Where are you, love?”

She doesn’t hang up, which I take as a good sign, but she doesn’t speak either. “Zelda, please. I’m trying to find you.”

“Cal?” Her voice trembles. “What are you doing? Who’s with you?”

“Two of my men. Tell me where you are. We’re here to protect you.”

A voice is with her. “Where is Helen?” I can tell she’s repeating what it told her to say.

“I’m afraid she’s had an accident—”

“Oh my god…” she gasps. “They’re going to kill us all.”

“Zelda, talk to me.” My mind is racing. Helen and this hotel are the only leads we have. “I know you’re afraid, but you’re smarter than this. Let me help you.”

She answers fast. “I can’t drag you into this.”

“I’m already in it.”

“I’m not good for you.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You can’t save me.”

“Want to bet?” My tone is deadly serious. I will not let anything happen to this woman. “I love you, Zee.”

She’s silent a split second. “I have to hang up. They could be monitoring this line.”

“Call my cell. You know the number—call me!” I’m shouting on the line as it goes dead. “FUCK!” I throw the receiver against the wall.

For a moment, we stand in the dark room. I’m breathing hard, frustration surging through my veins. A dead body is in the tub. The woman I love is out there, God knows where, in danger. I’m about to lose it, when my watch gives me a little thump.

Looking down, I see a text from an unknown number. Must stay hidden. Seth has a friend who can hide us.

“Yes!” I shout, motioning to the men. “Come on. We’ve got her.”

Dashing out the back door, I’m speaking into my watch. “Send me your location. I’ll come to you.”

A quick touch, and the message is sent. I’m in the car, and the guys are dashing across the street to their vehicle. Seconds pass. They feel like hours. My jaw clenches. I’m staring at the small screen, waiting for her response. Waiting…

Finally, a thump. Seth chartered a boat. Will text more when we’re there.

She’s at the marina? Fuck! Which one?

“No,” I speak fast into my watch. “Tell me where you’re going now.” A knot is in my throat as I hit send and wait.

More seconds tick by. The rain has slacked off, and little pellets of water make pinging sounds on the glass. The storm is passing over, moving further north, and away from the coastline. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as the black SUV pulls into an empty parking space beside me. My forehead is tight as I watch the virtual second hand move around the clock on my wrist.

“Tell me, Zelda…” I growl, staring at the white hands on the black face. It’s humid in the car, and a bead of sweat rolls down the center of my chest beneath my long-sleeved button-down. “Answer me.”

Another second passes… another little eternity. My forehead tightens; I’m afraid she’s not going to reply.

Then all at once a tap on my wrist; I almost shout when one word appears on the screen: Tortola.

I lower the window on the Mercedes. Freddie leans his dark head out toward me. “Get us on a flight to Tortola.”