Page 4 of The Prodigal Prince

When they were down to one full day left in San Majoria, Fiona found herself fighting off another headache. Once alone in her room, she found her ice pack. After drawing the curtains as tightly closed as they would go, she found her sleep mask. Finding a comfortable spot on the bed took more time - and caused more stabbing pain - than she would have preferred, but Fiona managed to do so and placed the ice pack on the back of her neck.

With her eyes closed, she let herself sink into oblivion.

Several hours later, feeling much better, Fiona dressed in her swimsuit with an opaque cover-up on top. After packing her beach bag with snacks, sunscreen, and a couple of bottles of water, she sent Tinsley a message that she’d meet them near the same spot they’d been sitting the last few days.

When she arrived, she didn’t see them anywhere, but Tinsley had told her they’d probably be half an hour, given that the day’s excursion to a nearby beach for boogie board lessons had run a bit long.

Fiona had looked forward to attending, but decided it was just as well she hadn’t. The evening before she’d seen that Prince Kensington of San Majoria would be there. They’d met in passing a couple of times, but she doubted he’d recognize her.

He’d be joined by one of his friends, the Prince Consort of nearby Auverignon. Gabe was an old friend of Fiona’s, though she hadn’t seen him in years. This wouldn’t have been a good time to become reacquainted.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. May I bring you a beverage?”

Fiona looked up from underneath the brim of her floppy hat. The cabana boy had taken care of them every day since they’d arrived. “Thank you, Dennis. That mocktail I had the other day was delicious. The orangey one. Could I get one of those?”

He smiled and bowed slightly at the waist. “Of course, Ms. Westgate. It would be my pleasure.”

She made a mental note to add a tip for him to her room bill and not just the bits of cash she’d handed him every time he brought them something. He’d taken good care of all three of them.

Closing her eyes she waited for him to return. When a shadow told her someone had stopped next to her, Fiona opened her eyes again.

But instead of Dennis she saw a young man, likely in his early teens standing awkwardly at the side of the lounge chair.

As he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, she put on her most reassuring smile.

“Ms. Westgate?” he managed to ask.

“Yes.”

“I’m supposed to give you this.” He held out a plain white envelope.

As soon as she touched it, he turned and hurried away.

Confused, she lifted the unsealed flap and pulled a note card with some typed words on it.

Fiona could feel the blood drain from her face and her heart stop, then race at an unprecedented pace as she read them.

We have your kid.

2

Something must have happened somewhere on resort property.

Mac could tell that much from his balcony.

Nothing overt, but he’d spent too much time looking at security arrangements over the years. To someone who knew what they were looking for, it was obvious.

Men in clothes that didn’t quite fit. Rather, they didn’t wear tourist clothes the same way actual tourists did. They didn’tmovethe way most tourists moved.

And they didn’t look around the same way tourists did.

Instead, their heads were constantly moving, scanning the area for... well, something. Mac couldn’t tell what they looked for, but he’d bet his entire inheritance that they were security or law enforcement of some kind.

He heard the door open then close behind him.

“What’s going on down there?” Mac knew Silas would know, if there was anything to know.

“I think it’s something to do with a child. I’m not sure if one is missing or kidnapped or something else. There wasn’t a general announcement looking for a child, but they might have chosen not to for some reason. There’s a number of celebrity or otherwise well-known guests who would prefer to keep things quiet.” Silas joined Mac on the balcony, leaning his forearms against the railing.

---