The Bossy Prince (Rugged and Royal #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,50
Beatrice, followed by a half hour of shopping, during which Nick makes me giggle so many times I should be ashamed of myself.
But I’m not.
I’m having too much fun.
And I’m undercover as international playboy arm candy. I’m supposed to be flirting and giggling with my fake boyfriend and sneaking kisses around the dressing room curtain, then more than kisses when he comes in to check out the slinky black one-piece I’ve tried on and finds me too fetching in Lycra to resist putting his hands all over me.
Beatrice went back to her room for a nap, but people are still milling in and out of the shop. We have a valid excuse to put on a show.
At least, valid enough…
Finally, we agree on a suit that’s sexy but still covers the majority of my allegedly irresistible parts, and we go our separate ways—Nick to track down Stefano and see if he’s in the mood to talk about selling a sex slave, and me to my spa appointment.
I feel a little scandalous getting a facial, but I do need to check out the ladies’ lounge. I doubt I’ll find a back door there, but it’s worth a look, and I agree that Nick should approach Stefano alone. He knows the man better, and human trafficking is a male-dominated field, like the majority of organized crime.
“Be careful,” I murmur as we kiss goodbye outside the shop.
“Always,” he says, sneaking a squeeze of my ass before he pulls away. “You, too.”
I nod, but I’m not worried about myself. I’m not the one bound for a sketchy conversation, and I’m always careful.
Even crossing the resort’s peaceful lobby, I’m on alert.
I’m always on alert.
Always.
When I overhear two maids speaking in hushed, hurried Indonesian by the trash receptacles near the spa, I immediately tune in. My Indonesian is limited, but I did work a case there early in my career, a month-long support op where I picked up handy things like how to order food, ask for directions to the bathroom, and say please and thank you.
I also learned a few “bad guy” words. So when I catch “senjata” whispered several times, I know the women are talking about guns.
Big, scary guns, judging by the shorter maid’s wide eyes and the way she holds her hands several feet apart to illustrate.
The taller woman makes a doubtful sound, but the other woman nods emphatically and stretches her arms wide again. Then she points a jabby finger toward the mountains before glancing nervously over her friend’s shoulder.
I look away in time to avoid eye contact, pretending great interest in the flower arrangement on the table beside me. But my presence alone is enough to shut them up.
They swiftly empty the trash, replace the bags, and disappear out the door to the back patio, rolling a large bin between them.
Shit.
Big guns. By the mountains. I’m intrigued, and I have a pretty good idea where I might be able to find this arsenal.
Where Nick and I might be able to find them…
I shouldn’t go alone, and I’m surprised to find I don’t want to. Nick keeps a cool head in a crisis. He’s a good partner—a great one, actually.
Now, if I can just catch him before he’s otherwise engaged.
I pull out my cell and hit his contact profile. He answers after the first ring. “Miss me already, beautiful?”
My lips curve. “Desperately. So much that I’m canceling my spa appointment, and we’re going for a hike. Meet me by the activities desk in ten? Your man-time can wait, right?”
“Absolutely,” Nick says. “See you there.”
Ending the call, I hurry into the spa to cancel my facial and then, on impulse, head out through the back door. But the maids are nowhere to be seen. The only sign of them is the now-empty bin they were using to collect the trash parked at the edge of the patio.
Which gives me an idea…
Chapter Eighteen
Nickolas
Pacing in front of the activities hut, I check my phone for the fifth time.
She’s ten minutes late, and Zan is never late.
Especially not for anything work-related.
And I assume this last-minute change of plans has something to do with the mission.
Though, I wouldn’t mind going on a jungle hike with her. I like spending time with Zan. I’d prefer we spend our stolen moments alone in our bedroom making out—sense memories of how perfect her breast felt cupped in my hand have been tormenting me all morning—but I enjoy Zan outside of bed, too.