The Bossy Prince (Rugged and Royal #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,51

it would be stupid to sleep with her.

I’m going to get attached.

More attached.

And that seems foolish, considering Zan only seems to like me in that way when she’s drunk.

Speaking of, half the people milling around the activities desk, signing up for snorkeling and paddleboard tours, reek of alcohol. They need to pace themselves, or they’re going to have liver failure before they fly home.

I wander farther from the desk, towards where a petite maid wearing a blue scarf over her hair is gathering fallen palm fronds from the grass and dumping them into the large, rolling trash bin beside her.

Instantly, I’m struck by something off about this scene. A beat later, I figure out what it is.

Biting back a smile, I stop beside the maid, but keep my attention on the flowers farther down the path. “Excellent disguise, but a maid wouldn’t be performing gardening duties. And palm leaves would go into a compost pile, not a trash bag.”

“Yes, but you’re going to need something to hide under,” Zan says beneath her breath. “And I thought you’d want a trash bag between you and all the yummy garbage juice at the bottom of the bin.”

I grunt. “You thought right, but I have a better idea. I’ll track down a uniform, too, and—”

“All the housecleaning staff are female, and all the uniforms are far too small for you, sadly.” Zan’s lips curve as she dumps another load of stiff brown fronds into the bin. “And do we really want to waste time hunting for a gardener’s uniform when we could be in and out of the suspicious green buildings and back by the pool before lunch?”

Scrubbing at my jaw, I glance both ways down the path. “You found a way in?”

“No, but I overheard a maid talking about guns. Big guns. And where else would Stefano store something like that? And if she saw them, then they must be somewhere the maids can access. Worst-case scenario, I try to roll my bin inside to empty the trash and someone asks me why the hell I’m there. I explain I’m new, and I leave. No harm, no foul.”

“That’s not the worst-case scenario, and you know it,” I say. “If someone stops you, how do you explain why you’re white and don’t speak Balinese or Indonesian? Every maid I’ve seen has been a local.”

“I’m a recent transplant. I moved here to teach yoga and fell on hard times. The people here were good enough to give me a job. I play it very clueless and eager to please.”

I chew the inside of my lip for a moment but finally nod. “Okay, I’m game. We need to know what’s in there.”

“Agreed. I’ll push the bin around the corner. Once no one’s looking, you hop in, and we’ll try the barbed wire gate. If the key card I found in the housekeeping office gets us in, I’ll head for the closest green building, and we’ll go from there.”

“How did you get into the housekeeping office?” I ask as she begins pushing the bin down the path.

“Skill,” she tosses over her shoulder, making me grin.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m buried under a mound of scratchy palm fronds, crouched at the bottom of a trash bin that reeks of rotten-food juice, and not in the mood to smile about anything.

But I’m not on high alert, either. I trust Zan to take only acceptable risks and to abort this mission if it gets too dangerous.

The bin rolls to a stop. I hold my breath, but then I hear a soft beeping and a metallic click. A moment later, the bin is in motion again.

We’re through the gate. One hurdle cleared.

The wheels vibrate beneath me for what feels like an age, and then the bin starts up an incline. I hear Zan’s breath grow labored, and then she whispers, “You’re heavier than you look, Dimples,” and I’m grinning again.

Only this woman could make me grin while my nose is full of garbage stink.

I hear another door open and close, and then cooler air seeps into the bin.

“Long hallway, no windows, and cameras in the ceiling, I think,” she whispers softly, turning the bin to the right. “Keeping my head down.”

The bin is vibrating less now, making me think we must be on a tiled surface. Zan is definitely having less trouble with my weight as she maneuvers through several doors and around another corner.

So when her breath rushes out a few minutes later, I figure pushing me around isn’t the