Page 25 of Roaming Holiday

For the next few hours, it’ll just be me and the streets of Kosita.

And Beck, of course.

14

WESLEY

During Nina’s lunch, Mason and I meet at Jack’s office. There’s an array of food when I arrive, and my stomach growls loudly.

“Have a seat,” Jack says. “Help yourself to any of it.”

And I do just that. The large, round conference table holds a monitor showing CCTV footage. Mason and I get to supervise our clients while eating. Nina sits quietly among the group while Maia seems to chat endlessly.

“Princess Beverly wants to get a feel of how they’re liking the country,” Jack explains as he gathers his plate of food. “Anything you two want to add?”

“She and her sister are talking about the charitable things they can do as princesses,” Mason says.

“They also asked Mason and me about what the racism is like here,” I add.

Jack raises a brow. “And what did you say?”

“Better than others in the EU, but Black Maldanians are really the ones to ask,” I reply with a shrug. When Jack purses his lips and nods in approval, I add, “Would it be all right if I directed them to you for those questions if they bring it up again?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Silence falls over us as I resume eating with frequent glances toward the monitor. I spot a table filled with tea, coffee, dessert, and seasoned bread with olive oil—a Maldanian tradition. I stare a little too hard at Nina’s ass as she walks and later bends over to sit. Did she have to wear that dress today?

Thwack.

I nearly choke on my sandwich as my head gets smacked forward. I chew furiously with incredulous eyes on Jack, and he narrows his gaze and points to the screen. “If there is anyone who’s off limits, it’s her.”

Mason laughs.

Have I had less-than-holy thoughts about her? Absolutely. But I would never act on them. This job is too important to mess up. I shove down a final bite and clear my throat. “Sir, I would never?—”

He holds up a hand to cut me off. “Do not forget why you’re here—how you’re here. To a lot of people, you’re nothing but a criminal who flipped for a deal.”

“That’s—”

“I know the truth. Not everyone does. You’d be in prison right now if not for your conscience and bravery.”

Brave is the last word I would use to describe myself. There’s nothing brave about the things I’ve done. I started because of the money. I finished because I was too scared of dying before doing some good in the world.

I don’t tell Jack I would be dead rather than in prison. Santiago wouldn’t have been caught if not for me. He was too smart to be on the police’s radar for years. I made the right choice by turning on him; he lied to me. He promised he wasn’t trafficking people, and the memory of those chained-up girls still haunts me.

I was a straight-and-narrow soldier before Santiago found me. I might’ve been an army ranger, but I was the quiet one. Most of my underground jobs were quick, in and out on a private plane overnight or less. The few times a year I would see Santiago or his associates, none except him would look me in the eye despite being depraved criminals themselves. That should’ve been my first hint to quit.

“You got me this job,” I remind Jack. “I wouldn’t disrespect you—or her—by crossing that line.”

He leans back in his chair. His expression is either unamused or disbelieving; I can’t tell which. He sighs and tosses his napkin over his empty plate. “Princess Beverly intends to introduce the girls to the Higher Court.”

“Is the plan still to keep their identities concealed?” Mason asks.

“Within the Court? No.”

I take a bite of a cold french fry, and it reminds me of Nina’s grimace when she ate the fries from Moritzi’s. She hated them but was considerate enough to keep that to herself. “Then what are the plans to ensure they won’t sell the information to the highest bidder?”

“NDA contracts in addition to all members giving up their phone upon entry and being searched for wires or other devices.”

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