I’d spotted Thom doing pull-ups on a set of metal bars beside the volleyball court and was about to head over to ask him if he knew where Stefano might be hiding when Zan’s text pinged on my phone.
Her warning that we need to evacuate came just in time. I was able to slip back onto the shaded trail and disappear around the corner before Thom laid eyes on me.
It was a lucky break.
Too bad my luck didn’t hold.
Five seconds later, I jogged around another corner and straight into Stefano. Our eyes locked, something unspoken—and dangerous—passed between us, and I was certain I’d been made.
But then he smiled and reached out to thump me warmly on the back, insisting I join him for a walk on the beach so we could “chat about the unique trials and rewards of dating princesses.”
It’s where I was going anyway, and I couldn’t, on the spur of the moment, think of a reason to decline without arousing serious suspicions—or confirming any he already had.
So…I invited him to go fishing with us.
On the extraction boat.
And he said yes. And I started thinking…okay, this might work out. We don’t have a warrant yet, but what we saw in that warehouse is enough to get one. Arms trafficking is frowned upon by most European governments, including Stefano’s home country of Italy and his chosen home of Greece. And he wouldn’t want to stay and be tried in Bali, even if Union Ten allowed him that option.
The Balinese are brutal with their enforcement of drug trafficking laws. One word to the authorities, a quick raid of the resort, and the Balinese police would have everything they need to seek the death penalty against Stefano and probably several others in his organization.
So yes…
Bagging and tagging Stefano now, even before we have all our ducks in a row, seemed like an acceptable risk.
And then we arrived on the beach to see Beatrice standing beside Zan, and the complications multiplied.
Yes, Zan and I outnumber Stefano, but Beatrice is a wild card. If Stefano threatens her safety, Zan and I will have no choice but to stand down.
Not that he appears particularly menacing at the moment.
As we cross the sand toward the women—Zan seeming unfazed by the unexpected company—Stefano is positively jovial.
He laughs as he extends his arms toward Zan. “You look fabulous, Alexandra. So glad to see you have recovered. I’m deeply sorry for that nonsense last night.”
Zan smiles and leans in, air-kissing his cheek. “No lasting harm done. I feel wonderful this morning.”
“Delighted to hear it,” Stefano says, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “But I promise you, the rest of your stay will be nothing but smooth sailing. I made an example of those responsible. The pranksters among us will think hard before they pull something like that again.”
“I’m just so glad no one was seriously hurt,” Beatrice says, curling an arm through Stefano’s with an easy sigh, oblivious to the tension simmering between Zan, Stefano, and myself.
I don’t know what he’s playing at, but the look he shoots Zan over the top of Beatrice’s head as he pulls his fiancée in for a hug is…odd.
And…smug.
Like he has a fistful of aces.
And I suppose he does. The resort is packed with his people, and I’m sure most of the staff are in his pocket as well. The men in charge of kayak rentals probably wouldn’t bat an eye if Stefano pulled out a gun, shot Zan and me on the spot, and buried our bodies in a shallow, sandy grave.
But whether it’s because Beatrice is here, or he has some other agenda, Stefano hasn’t reached for the slim weapon clipped to his belt. And he has no idea that the boat we’re about to board is crewed by people loyal to Union Ten.
It isn’t a winning hand, but it’s an ace up our sleeve. As long as Zan, Beatrice, and I end up on that boat instead of back on the resort property, we have a shot of coming out of this on top.
I cling to the thought as I take Zan’s hand and nod toward the dock. “Shall we? I confess a day on the boat sounds like more fun than a waterfall excursion.”
“He hates hiking,” Zan says with an affectionate eye roll, the faint tremble in her fingers sending a tremor through mine.
I wish I’d had a chance to discover what she’s learned, but she was right not to text the information. Even our encrypted line isn’t one hundred percent secure.
“Oh, me, too,” Bea says with a laugh. “Especially around here. The bugs are so bad in the jungle. I end up with bites all over.”
“Because you’re so sweet. They can’t resist a nibble,” Stefano says, his arm snaking around her as we start toward the boat. He kisses her temple and squeezes her hip. “I know the feeling.”