The Bossy Prince (Rugged and Royal #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,58

me.

But just now, it’s hard to feel anything but anxious and angry. I don’t want to turn my back on this man, not even for the few seconds it will take to walk up the plank to the deck.

“Nick, come on,” Zan calls from above. “I want to show you something. Beatrice found binoculars.”

I glance up to see her leaning over the railing by the gangway with a pair of heavy-looking black binoculars in one hand. As far as weapons go, it isn’t much, but it’s enough to cause a nasty bruise on Stefano’s skull if he tries something while my back is turned.

Zan’s got my six.

I’m not alone, and we’re going to get through this.

Together.

Hope threads through the anxiety that fills my chest, making it easier to draw breath. I inhale deeply and call, “Be right there.”

I glance back at Stefano and force a tight smile.

And then I board the boat, and it’s…fine.

Fine aside from the fact that Stefano’s smugness-level keeps climbing as the female captain comes over the speakers from the helm on the deck above ours, announcing in accented English, “Prepare for departure. Life jackets are under the bench seats if you’d like them. We should be arriving in Tuban in half an hour.”

“Tuban?” Beatrice echoes with a frown. “I thought we were going fishing?”

“We are, but the boat stops in Tuban first,” Zan explains. “Maybe we’re picking up more people or something?”

“I think so,” I confirm.

“Oh. Okay.” Beatrice casts a pointed look Stefano’s way. “Honey, are you okay?”

Stefano remains by the railing, watching the two men cast off and toss the ropes onto the deck. “I’m wonderful. Really looking forward to this.”

Beatrice’s forehead furrows again—clearly, she’s finding Stefano’s smugness a bit strange, too—but then she shakes her head and crosses to join Zan by the railing on the opposite side of the vessel. Bea says something I can’t make out over the surge of the engine as the boat pulls away from the dock.

Meanwhile, Stefano continues to smirk like it’s his job. Like he literally has no other function in life but to telegraph his superiority to those around him.

I’m on the verge of asking him what exactly he’s so pleased about, figuring it can’t hurt at this point. We’re heading out into the open ocean, leaving his winning hand behind us at the resort, and the engine’s too loud for Beatrice to overhear and wonder what the hell’s going on.

But before I can speak, the white door leading up to the helm opens, and a familiar brunette steps out onto the deck.

I recognize my boss immediately, of course, though I’ve never seen Blaire in casual clothes. She’s a devotee of the power suit, a woman who came of age in the 1980s and adheres to a shoulder-pad-mandatory dress code.

But today, she’s in dark jeans and a black tank top that reveals her sculpted arms. Blaire’s in her late forties but still in her prime. She’s powerful, poised, and forthright, a boss who leads with a firm hand but keeps the lines of communication open.

She’s exactly the kind of person you want on your side in a crisis, and I should be relieved to see her.

But I’m not.

My instincts say this is bad news even before she pulls the gun from the holster under her left arm and aims it at Zan.

“I tried to replace you on this mission,” Blaire calls out over the sound of the engine. “Just remember that. I didn’t want it to be this way.”

Zan’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t waste time with chitchat. She’s already in motion, diving over the boat’s railing as Blaire pulls the trigger.

Chapter Twenty-One

Alexandra

The ocean churns around me, cold and shocking on my skin.

I check the impulse to pop back to the surface and grab some air—I didn’t have a chance for a proper lungful before I dove, and I’m already breathless.

Instead, I turn away from the light and go deeper, pulling with both arms, kicking hard as my lungs begin to ache.

I have to get clear of the boat’s spinning propeller.

Not to mention the woman with the gun…

Jesus.

Blaire is here. With a gun. That she pointed at me.

That I’m pretty sure she fired, though I hit the water so close to the booming sound, I can’t be sure.

I can’t believe this is happening.

I’ve never particularly cared for Blaire—she’s an Athena type, always siding with the patriarchy and abandoning her sisters-in-arms—but I respected her. She not only succeeded in a male-dominated field but rose to the top