Episode 40 Caribbean Storm (Part 2/3) (Patreon)

Jack Routh

The ride on board the helicopter was smooth. He spent the time observing the men beside Jangus and noticed a common factor in all of them. These were all alert, despite their casual demeanor, and that meant they were experienced. Sure, they appeared relaxed and even joked among themselves as they spoke through the headsets, but he didn’t miss the way they kept their hands close to their concealed firearms, hidden under their jackets.

Even the pilot was armed, and he spotted the bulge on the man’s side.

“Relax.” Jangus tried to initiate conversation throughout the helicopter ride, but he wasn’t feeling talkative at the moment. The overwhelming sound of the rotors and engine didn’t help, even with the headset they provided him to wear.

“Where are we going?” He asked. “You have to have some support ship nearby.”

“Good call.” Jangus smiled in approval and looked at his watch. “We’ll be there soon.”

It took only a few minutes, and he was surprised to see a cargo ship ahead of them. Looking closer, he realized it was only meant to look like some sort of cargo ship, except that it didn’t have any containers on top of it, and instead it had a large deck. The sides were completely cut off, revealing a large space underneath and a few helicopters and equipment stored on board.

He knew what it was based on Reacher’s memories. It was an expeditionary mobile base vessel, also called an ESB for short, the military’s answer to the problem of conducting and sustaining small-scale operations that were too small for a carrier task force or the Marines’ amphibious assault ship, and still remain cost-effective.

“Welcome to the Puller.” Jangus’ voice blared on his headset.

Their pilot expertly landed their helicopter and soon he was walking beside Jangus and two of his men along the flight deck as the rotors of the helicopter slowly whined down.

No one gave them any second looks, and soon they entered the superstructure of the ship, where the mysterious black ops operative led them to a room. Six other men were inside, calmly eating sandwiches while watching a football game.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Jangus waved his hand over the side table where an array of snacks was displayed.  Feeling hungry, he grabbed a sandwich, poured himself some coffee, and sat on a nearby couch.

“I thought you’d be asking a million questions by now.” His host sat on the other end of the couch with a cup of coffee in his hand. “You’re not curious why I allowed you to join us for this operation?”

“Clients of human trafficking rings are rich.” He answered, eyeing the older man. “These clients most likely have some political support from somewhere. You’re going to need my backing in case one is on board.”

“A nephew to a King does help.” Jangus smiled. “We’re just waiting for more assets to join us, and they should be here within the hour.”

“I assume you mean a US Coast Guard vessel.” He shared. “We’ll need them to make this operation legal.”

“Then I guess I won’t need to explain any further.” Jangus shook his head in amusement and drained his coffee. “C’mon, I’m going to show you some of the toys we’re using today.”

They were in the hold of the ship, with one of the men showing off the equipment they would be using. The plan was simple, they’d arrive using underwater scooters, take out the pirates and rescue the captives, and then wait for the Coast Guard vessel to arrive on the scene.

Barely an hour after he landed on the ship, they were off again, this time using another mode of transport. He had heard about these ships before, but it was the first time he was seeing one in person.

It was a narrow, sleek boat, shaped like a torpedo. They had to be SDVs, seal delivery vehicles that could both travel on the water and under, perfect for insertions behind enemy lines. Two would be used for the operation, and they would be lowered into the sea by cranes once they are within range of the yacht and the pirate ship.

Jangus’ men were watching him as he tested his equipment, and after a quick briefing, the SDVs were lowered by cranes to the water, just beyond the visual range of their target. He was one of the four passengers in the cramped, tight space behind the pilot and navigator. The ride was uncomfortable in the choppy sea, but he’d tolerate it if it meant they would get to catch these pirates and rescue Tamara’s friends.

“We’re going under in thirty!” Jangus announced a few minutes later, shocking him out of his thoughts.

Immediately, they all put on their masks over their faces and regulators over their mouths. They didn’t need scuba tanks since the oxygen hoses were connected to a central tank somewhere within the ship.

Water started to pour in from under their feet, and he set aside the panic as their ship slowly started to sink. It grew darker inside the vessel, but not so dark that he couldn’t see the rippling surface of the water above them as they scattered the sun’s light. His ears started to ache as they descended further, and they pushed on. The only sound he could hear was the sound of air passing through his regulator and the bubbles of air moving every time he exhaled. He didn’t know how long he had been crouched in that position when it turned dark all of a sudden. He looked up and noticed the large shape of two vessels above them, casting a shadow over them.

They were here.

Jangus gave them a signal, and he took one lungful of air from the regulator and started swimming to his assigned area. The fishing trawler turned pirate ship had a high deck, and it would take some time to scale it. Fortunately, the yacht tied next to it was far more accessible.

Jangus gave the countdown with his fingers, and they soon started boarding the super yacht. He ignored the screams of shock as he climbed on board with an HK MP5 in his hands. Hands were raised in surrender, but he ignored them as he surged to the starboard side of the yacht where it was tied with the pirate vessel, following the teams of heavily armed men in a tactical formation.

The pirates were caught unprepared, and most didn’t have weapons with them. The four that did were shot without hesitation before they could even pull the trigger on their own weapons. He started sweeping his assigned section and pulled out a pirate trying to hide in one of the storage spaces in the galley, and secured his hands with zip ties. His assigned partner caught another hiding in the freezer and soon had the two men march up onto the deck to join the rest of the pirate crew.

“Where are the captives?” He asked one of Jangus’ men, who was keeping an eye on the bound pirates.

“We got a medic looking over the boys, they were roughed up a bit by their captors.” The man answered and gave a sneer at the bound figures. “The girls were over at the yacht.”

“I’ll get over to the yacht.” He received a nod of acknowledgement from the man and eyed the yacht crew who were gathered under guard at the aft of the vessel. They weren’t bound, unlike the pirates, and were huddled at one of the larger tables that could easily sit over a dozen guests, their expressions showing shock and fear.

 No one was spared, even the female chef and the yacht girls with their short black skirts were under heavy guard by three of Jangus’ men. At a far distance, he spotted a speck of white on the horizon. As it grew closer, a helicopter flew from its pad and was headed their way. The coast guard was here.

He was satisfied with the operation, but he knew that was just the easy part and headed inside the yacht. Whoever was on this vessel was someone of influence and power, and he would not make things easy. They needed an airtight case.

 It was a stark contrast walking through the luxurious ship with the teak decking, with modern and sleek designs, and the rusted pirate vessel he had been on.  He spotted two guards watching over what must have been the master suite and headed inside, and from the corridor, he could already hear the loud voices protesting. Someone was very displeased.

The noise assaulted his ears as soon as he opened the door, and he found the sight of Jangus and one of his men pointing their weapons at an elderly man and what looked like his assistant. On the other side of the room were two girls, weeping and crying as they clutched each other in comfort.

“This is a violation of my rights!” The older man in the bathrobe continued to protest. “I will not have it! I will file a diplomatic protest at once!”

Jangus spotted him and smiled, stepping back and allowing him to gain the attention of the ranting man, his face flushed red from yelling. He paused for a minute, eyes widening when he recognized the face.

“Holy shit.” He muttered.

“Holy shit is right.” Jangus replied over the man’s continued protest. “Now, I’m even more glad I brought you here.”

“Her majesty shall hear of this! Our ambassador will….”

“Prince Andrew.” He stepped forward, attracting the attention of the man and his aide. “You’re caught red-handed dealing with human trafficking.”

“Lies!” The man immediately denied the accusation. “I’ll have you know…”

He turned to the two women who were staring at him with wide eyes and gave them a small smile. “Tamara managed to get help. She’s the one who left her phone on board so that we could trace the ship you were in.”

“Tamara’s alive?” One of the girls whispered. At his nod, the girl started crying once again.

“C’mon, let’s move to another room. The Coast Guard is about to arrive. They’ll take you home.”

Cecilia Vega

She didn’t know if the move to CBS from ABC was right, but the pay was good, and with recent downsizing, she feared she would be next. She jumped to another network and, now with more freedom and a bigger budget, she focused on the drug trafficking in the Caribbean.

She was on board the USCGC Hamilton to follow up on a potential drug smuggling ring conducted on board private yachts when she got a call from a contact during her stint as a White House correspondent.

It was all so very strange. The captain of the ship even allowed her to use their secure communications room without any comment. The White House aide, Jonathan Greer, gave her a hint about a famous personality that was caught red-handed dealing with something far more nefarious, prostitution and human trafficking, and that she could be the one who could cover it first if she covered it.

It was suspicious that the Hamilton was steaming full speed to the location, and she suspected it was another desperate attempt by the administration to increase their approval ratings after that narrow win in the elections. Still, this would be her first-ever international event as a reporter for a new network, one that could make or break her future.

“Let’s do it.” Andy, her producer, nodded. They were using the expensive satellite communications equipment of the ship to talk live with a minor delay to their head office in Manhattan.

“They’re even allowing us to broadcast it live using their equipment.” Jacqueline, her assistant, added. This was unusual, which meant her contact really intended to make this as a distraction to the public.

Their bosses in Black Rock approved of it, and with their equipment ready, they prepared for the live broadcast.

“Signal’s good.” Andy, also doubling as their cameraman, gave her the signal and she started her routine to calm down.

“One minute,” Jacqueline added. Earlier, a helicopter lifted off to circle the area where a rusted fishing trawler and a massive yacht were parked next to each other. They were standing on the helicopter deck as the Hamilton launched two boats headed to the two ships.

Andy gave a signal with his left hand, the five fingers falling down one by one, indicating they were about to go live.

 “This is Cecilia Vega, CBS News. Today, live here in the Caribbean, the Coast Guard ship Hamilton is on its way to stop an illegal human trafficking operation.” She told the camera. Behind her, she knew Andy had focused on the ship where it looked like the yacht crew was held on the aft of the ship guarded by men in black.

Jacqueline leaned into her earpiece and then suddenly started to write something on a piece of yellow pad, scribbling furiously and then held it up for her to read. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and she licked her lips in delight. The story was getting juicy.

“And it looks like this operation against human trafficking was conducted alongside the special forces of the US Military.” She added. “It’s highly likely that the men in black are the renowned NAVY SEALS, standing guard.”

Coast guard personnel started boarding the two vessels, and she continued her broadcast according to the script they had planned.

“You will notice the super yacht here, called the Loom, docked beside the pirate vessel.” The name was engraved on the rear of the hull of the luxury yacht, and the chrome was as clear as day. “As of now, we don’t know who the owners of this yacht are, although we received information from the coast guard that the yacht and the pirate ship were spoofing, turning off their GPS transponders so that their actual movements couldn’t be traced.”

“It looks like the victims are being transported.” She noticed coast guard personnel were escorting two young men to the boats, their bare torsos wrapped in bandages. Jacqueline held up another page, and she was shocked. “I just received word that these young men are from Miami. How they were kidnapped by pirates remains unclear, but these are American citizens, and they clearly suffered from their captivity.”

She leaned closer. By now, their ship had drifted closer to the two vessels that she could see the faces clearly. There was movement inside, and she gasped as she saw an image she would never forget for the rest of her life.

“I’m zooming in.” Andy spoke up, an uncharacteristic action by the veteran producer. She realized that the man was rattled by what he was currently recording.

“It… it looks like we stumbled upon a multi-agency operation.” She breathed out.

Jack Routh was pushing Princed Andrew by the shoulder towards the waiting Coast Guard personnel. The man tried to struggle, and after a brief struggle to break free, he ended up being dragged on deck by his hair while two young women in flimsy bathrobes, their heads lowered, shoulder hunched and clearly crying, followed after their wake. There was no mistake about the bruises on their arms and legs. It was a damning sight.

“And the one caught is no other than Prince Andrew of the British Royal Family, third son of Queen Elizabeth the Second.” She continued after Jacqueline signaled for her to continue to narrate. “The Prince was embroiled in a scandal before, regarding allegations of sex trafficking, and is a known friend of Jeffrey Epstein.”

“Prince Andrew was accused of sex trafficking by Virginia Giuffre.” She continued. She didn’t know if the camera was trained on her or the scene before her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the scene.

“It’s ironic to know that Jack Routh, a decorated police officer from L.A. and whose late mother is a Mountbatten, a distant relative of the Prince, is the one conducting the arrest.” She was a big fan of Routh, but she pitied him right now.

She knew the fallout from this was going to be insane. “This will surely lower the image of the British Royal Family, long criticized for failing to punish their members if they broke the law.” 

To her delight, Routh came with the coast guard boats heading back to the boats and knew there was a chance for an exclusive interview. She quickly ended the broadcast once she got footage of the Prince and the pirates being hauled up to the Hamilton. Part of the coastguard personnel boarded the yacht and the pirate vessel and were slowly sailing towards Miami, escorted by the Hamilton.

The interview she desperately wanted never came, to her disappointment. She found Routh an hour later, wearing a coast guard T shirt and pants, on a call. She waited patiently, giving the famous cop his privacy, but never saw him again after that. A helicopter landed and took off soon after, and she was surprised to learn that the man of the hour had already left.

Still, she got what she wanted, and she was sure her career was on the rise, judging by how often her bosses in New York constantly asked for updates. She gave a second live update, again from the flight deck at the rear of the ship, this time with an official statement from the State Department.

She didn’t need to speculate, not with the footage she captured. A multi-agency task force was the spin this time, and she suspected something was amiss, but she had to play nice for the time being. She and her team were being given unprecedented access, and for now, she was satisfied.

Around the ship, she could see the atmosphere had changed. The officers were more tense, but the sailors themselves had that gleam, like they were happy. She couldn’t put in the right word, but she could see the men and women on board being gentle with the missing teens, especially girls.

The female crew even donated their best civilian clothing to the girls, no questions asked, to make them more comfortable on board the ship. The boys were being looked after, and one of them had suffered a fracture in his arm.

“So what do you think the real story is?” Andy asked once things had settled down. They were just hours away from Miami, where she heard a circus was waiting for them. State officials, the mayor, even the UK officials were there, waiting for the Prince to disembark, and she had a front row seat. They were too late. She had already controlled the narrative.

“The kids’ story checked out.” Jacqueline mused. “They matched the descriptions of the missing teens in a speedboat lost in a storm just off the coast of Miami a few days ago.”

“Where they were kidnapped by that pirate ship disguised as a fishing trawler.” She added. “The kids would have been sold off to slavery or worse.”

“Worse than slavery?” Jacqueline asked.

“I’ve heard tales.” Andy, their veteran producer, revealed, wearing a grim look on his face. “Organ harvesting. Young men and women are treated like cattle.”

“Damn.” She suppressed a shudder.

“We need to get good footage. Ask the captain if there’s a good vantage point when he’s being walked down the plank.” She stared at her producer and assistant in the eye. “He’s caught red-handed this time. He has to squeal how he came into contact with those pirates.”

“Too bad with Routh.” Jacqueline sighed. “He’s as slippery as an eel.”

“And paparazzi couldn’t legally tail him when he’s working because he’s a cop.” Andy shared. “Though I heard from my contacts he’s due to appear in an exclusive piece with Runway magazine. It’s all hush hush, but it’s rumored that Miranda Priestly herself is writing the article.”

“Lucky bitch.” She muttered. She wondered what she could do with that level of access, but the Rose Circle was so exclusive and mysterious it wasn’t even funny. They had no in to that group, and she wasn’t even sure who was really part of that club, aside from Taylor Swift, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, and Jessica Chastain. Unfortunately, those three women were tight-lipped and almost as elusive as Routh when they were out in public.

They were never spotted in the usual bars and exclusive restaurants that celebrities like to be in, which made it harder to pin them down. She would see snippets of the group, like in that video in Hawaii where Routh celebrated with his wife on board a yacht, or footage from social media, but they were all private parties.

There were even songs being written using the club’s name, as if the artist was part of the club. Now, with the upcoming piece, she had to assume Miranda Priestly was part of that exclusive group.

The announcement of docking from the speaker roused her from her thoughts, and he realized she needed to focus on the present. Routh might have slipped away, but the big fish caught in the net was secure with damning, irrefutable evidence.

 Zoe Andersen Routh

She could tell Tamara was traumatized by her ordeal. Despite the presence of Taylor and her other celebrity friends, the girl stared off into the distance, staring out at the sea. She wasn’t shy or tongue tied like before, and just accepted the fruit juice Taylor gave her without batting an eye and just whispered a polite thank you like being served a drink by a global pop star was just a normal, everyday occurrence.

Still, she was impressed by the girl’s resilience and determination. She noticed that Tamara considerably calmed down once her husband promised he would get her friends. It was like the guilt the girl had carried vanished once Jack said he’d take action.

She wasn’t happy that Jack left with Jangus, but she was confident in her man’s abilities. With support from Jangus and his outfit, she wasn't worried about her husband’s safety. Her thoughts drifted to the yacht still anchored off the beach. Her husband’s family had elected to delay their departure and wait for news. She could see that Jack’s uncle was worried as he paced outside the large terrace overlooking the bay, always on a call while his staff headed to the island to restock the yacht.

Jack’s aunt, the Queen, decided to distract her daughters. They were playing by the pool with Nickolaj’s kids.

“She really trusts him.” Liz sat down beside her with what looked like a chicken sandwich cut in the middle. The brunette gave her one half and started eating the other half. 

She followed Liz’s gaze to Tamara, who was still sitting on the other side of the room by a smaller terrace, the young girl’s face highlighted by the afternoon sun.

“The girl has been through a lot.” She revealed. “She was homeless at one point, and one of my officers took her in and helped her apply to Jack’s foundation for a scholarship grant.”

“How many scholars does your foundation support?” Liz asked.

“According to Camille, around twenty students right now.” She answered. “It’s not just tuition, living expenses, rent, food, and allowance are all included.”

“That’s very generous.” Liz’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“They’re kids at a critical stage, going to an environment where they will be judged by their peers according to the model of their smartphones and the clothes they wear.” She replied. “It was Jack’s idea. They needed to be comfortable in their environment to thrive, and not be chained down by the stigma just because they’re scholars, and I agreed.”

“No wonder Tamara trusts him.” Liz smiled.

A blaring sound attracted everyone’s attention to the television that was previously turned off. She turned to Taylor, who had the remote in her hand.

“I read about some breaking news in the Caribbean.” The pop star answered the unasked question. “I thought it might be related.”

“Good call.” Jessica nodded in agreement.

They watched as a reporter started speaking, from what looked like the landing pad at the rear of a coast guard ship. Behind her was a yacht and behind it…

“That’s the ship!” Tamara suddenly shouted. The teen was standing and moved closer to the TV, all of her focus on the image on the screen.

The minutes passed by, and she swore she heard a unified sound of people gasping at once as soon as she spotted her husband dragging a prince by his hair as the older man tried to move.

“That dirty fucker.” She could hear the venom in Tamara’s voice as the cameraman focused on Prince Andrew’s form as he tried to struggle.

“Fuck yeah.” Liz whispered beside her.

It was as iconic as it could get. Her husband, wearing a black wetsuit, grim-faced and unrelenting, dragged the older man by his hair like a bitch after he tried to escape from being marched down to the boats waiting. The prince was cuffed at the front, and he tried to reach out to Jack’s wrist, trying to save his hair from being torn out.

 There, at the back, were Tamara’s friends, clearly suffering from their captivity. Then there was the yacht crew at the corner, their faces all filled with shame and embarrassment as they were guarded by more men in black wetsuits, Jangus’ men.

She was pretty sure that no one, including her husband, would realize the political fallout from this event. As soon as the Prince was secured on the boat, the people around her broke from what seemed like a magical spell that immobilized all of them.

“I have to make a few calls,” Willem muttered and stepped back out to the main terrace for privacy. She could see the faint smile on the King’s face.

Tamara had that look of satisfaction on her face, while Liz squeezed her hand that she now realized was gripping hard.

“I’m not really surprised that Prince Andrew was involved, only that he was caught literally with his pants down,” Jessica spoke up. “Wasn’t he accused of sex trafficking along with Epstein?”

“And he died under mysterious circumstances.” Liz scoffed. “No one really buys the story that he hanged himself.”

“Maybe he was protecting him,” Taylor added. “And other people in power like him. He had that island, right?”

“Thank god I didn’t accept the invitation to go there.” Liz rubbed her arms. She could see the goose bumps form on her friend’s arms.

“You were invited?” Jessica looked shocked.

“Early in my career.” The brunette actress revealed. “I refused. Guess what happened to the casting offers?”

“I assume they were suddenly withdrawn and that they were looking for something more unique.” Jessica recited the spiel, a look of understanding on her face. "No wonder you fell off for a time from the bigger roles."

“They’re that connected?” Taylor looked disturbed by what she heard.

“All the perverts are.” Jessica revealed. “They’re drunk on power and believe themselves to be untouchable and above the law.”

“He doesn’t look untouchable right now.” Tamara joined in as the image of the Prince being dragged through the deck of the luxury yacht was replayed on the TV.

Percy West

Too good.

Damn too good. And that was the problem.

Jack Routh, in any team, was an immediate asset. It caused an imbalance in team dynamics, and unless he was with his peers, that team would form bad habits and start to rely more on him, which was a bad thing in the long term.

With Hondo moving on from Metro to join Cortez in Pasadena, perhaps it was a good thing to distribute the members of D-platoon so that they could spread the knowledge and experience they had to the other officers of the force. That would buy him more time to look for a suitable role for Routh.

He was in the process of looking for a suitable position and wondered about that community relations pilot program when he was interrupted by the furious mayor, who stormed into his office.

He raised an eyebrow at the man.

“Why didn’t you tell me you approved of the secret multi-agency task operation in the Caribbean?” Stevens demanded. He wondered if the old man had finally lost it.

“I could have used this for the elections!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied calmly. The mayor must have sensed something in his tone as the politician took a deep breath and took out his phone. After some fiddling, he placed it on his desk and played the video.

“This is what I’m talking about,” Stevens explained in a strained tone.

[LAPD Officer Jack Routh, part of a task force, arrests notorious sex trafficker Prince Andrew!]

He watched with growing horror and fear as the video played on, the Latina reporter from CBS looking determined as she laid out the facts, trying not to soften up the matter with the Prince. He hadn’t heard about this! And Routh! What was he doing with what looked like Navy SEALS and the US Coast Guard?

“This is the first time I’ve heard about this.” He clenched his fists.

“I’m not buying that,” Stevens argued.

“I am not lying.” He replied. “Routh was supposed to be on vacation in the Caribbean with his wife, Captain Andersen.”

“Then how do you explain this?” The mayor demanded.

He tried, but couldn’t think of one. Routh never took on an operation with other agencies without approval from Central.

“I can’t.” He answered. “But it looked like the statement came from the State Department. Routh must have stumbled into this by accident.”

“This will not look good for the department.” Stevens pointed at Routh’s rough handling of the Prince when he tried to struggle free and started to drag the older man by his hair. Personally, he didn’t care since the Prince did try to escape, but public opinion did matter.

“No, it doesn’t.” He agreed. That was the moment he had an idea. Perhaps, he could use this as an opportunity. Technically, it was a reprimand, but that would pave the way to move Routh to a position where he wouldn’t be able to cause an incident like this in the future, and to protect him from the fallout of what he did.

He pulled out the man’s file and remembered his stint teaching at the community college. Perhaps he could resume the role, but at another university on a more permanent basis.

“This is what I propose.” He invited the mayor to sit down.

 It was clear they couldn’t refute the State Department’s narrative. That would make the department and him look weak if they claimed they didn’t know about the operation, but he would want a word with those officials the first chance he could get.

“This better be good,” Stevens grumbled but accepted his invitation.

“Routh has poked the hornet’s nest. This is something far bigger than any of us can imagine. It’s an international incident involving the British Royal Family.” He began. “As you said, some questions will be raised about his handling of the Prince like that, even if the man was a known sex trafficker.”

“Go on…” Stevens still didn’t look happy.

“He’s due for a promotion for P3 based on his experience and merit alone.” He continued. “This gives me the opportunity to take him out of patrol and out of the general public’s eye.”

“And place him where?” Stevens asked.

“Somewhere private and secure where reporters can’t easily get to him. After his successful stint as a lecturer at the community college, some universities reached out to offer him a position in their faculty.” He revealed. “Susan Coleman shut down the program out of spite against Andersen. I believe it was a missed opportunity.”

“I’m still handling the fallout after her stint as Chief.” Stevens revealed. “She destroyed a lot of goodwill towards the city. So what do you have in mind?”

“Routh’s alma mater.” He answered. “I’m sure UCLA will accept our offer of a community program. I bet Routh is willing to pursue his master's if given the opportunity.”

“And place him in a position where he’s unable to do things like this again.” He tapped the phone that was replaying the video on loop. “It’s a win – wins situation for both parties.”

“I like it.” Stevens looked like he had calmed down. “Do it.”

Jack Routh

He was engulfed in a hug as soon as he stepped off the boat. Zoe was waiting for him by the beach, not caring if the hem of her dress got wet.

“You stupid, amazing man.” She gave him a deep kiss, which he eagerly returned as she molded her body to his. Hands that were about to wander stopped when he heard the voices of their friends, and he realized Zoe had not come alone.

He received concerned hugs and pats on the back from his friends. It was a testament to the friendships he had formed that not one asked about what he just done, only if he was okay and did not suffer an injury.

“It was fine.” He revealed to Zoe and the others around the table. “The most difficult thing was fitting inside that boat and not panicking. It’s a claustrophobe’s nightmare.”

“And boats are not supposed to sink.” Taylor looked fascinated by his story.

“But they’re difficult to detect.” Nickolaj gave him an impressed look. “I did some scuba diving before. That had to be difficult, cramped in a tiny space while the water rose up around you.”

“I’m proud of you.” His uncle gave him a warm smile. “This has been a long time coming for him.”

“How would relations continue between our family and the Windsors?” He asked.

“Difficult,” Willem admitted. “The image of you dragging out a son of Queen Elizabeth like that, deserved or not, will make things tense for a while, but not something we wouldn’t overcome. I’d worry more if I were them. Their public approval and image will surely drop to an all-time low. It will take years to recover from this scandal.”

“The duchess of Wessex has been trying to contact me since the news broke.” Queen Maxima, his aunt, shared. “I’m pretty sure she’s trying to contact me to get to you.”

“And they haven’t released an official statement even after all of this,” Willem added. “That means the senior working royals are panicking. We don’t need to help them, dear.”

His aunt merely nodded in agreement. With the early dinner finished, he retired to his and Zoe’s room to rest, and he spent the next few hours sleeping with Zoe cuddled next to him, her hair tickling his nose.

He wondered how things would change once they were back at home in L.A. He was sure, despite the political backing he had thanks to his uncle, that he would feel some of the backlash for arresting and handling the prince like that. He wasn’t able to help it. He had little sympathy for the older man, especially after hearing how he treated Tamara’s friends on board the yacht.

He could easily imagine Tamara suffering the same fate or worse if she weren’t so determined to escape. Speaking of the teen, he decided to do something nice as a reward for her bravery. He knew Lucy’s roommate was looking for a used car.

Lucy Chen

“Are you positive you’re okay?” She probably asked the question for the tenth time, but she couldn’t help it. She was so relieved when she heard Tamara’s voice.

“Yes, Mom.” She smiled, picturing Tamara rolling her eyes. “The food is great, this place is seriously amazing. You need to see this place in person.”

“I doubt Jack would just invite us to visit his villa in the Caribbean.” She replied. Yes, the pictures were amazing, and she was insanely jealous, but she wasn’t the type of person who would take advantage of her friend’s generosity.

“Hang on, I’ll ask him.”

“Tamara, wait!” Before she could go on, her roommate, with the same brashness and confidence she experienced when she first met her, forged ahead. “Jack, do you think you can invite Lucy to visit this place in the future?”

“I don’t see why not.” She heard Jack’s voice answer. “Maybe we can do it in the summer.”

“Awesome!” Tamara cheered. “Hear that, Lucy?”

“I heard.” She refused to groan, feeling embarrassed by the teen’s attitude. “Tamara, you can’t just… never mind.”

She needed to see the bigger picture. Despite the traumatizing experience, the teen still had that fiery spirit within her and decided to change topics. “So, how is it hanging out there with everyone? Got what you need?”

“Yup!” Tamara answered. “Jack even retrieved my phone from that rusted ship, and Zoe and Taylor took me out shopping for some clothes earlier.”

“Right, shopping with Taylor Swift.” She muttered.

“And last night, she decided on a talent contest, with me, Zoe, and Nukaka as the judges,” Tamara revealed. “It was so fun!”

“What type of talent show?” She asked.

“It’s girls versus boys, in a musical vintage showdown.” Tamara giggled. “I thought the girls would surely win!”

“Jack won?” She was intrigued.

“With Nickolaj.” Tamara replied. “They even had the costumes. Who knew Jamie Lannister could sing so well? Taylor and Liz did amazing with their rendition of the power of two by the indigo girls, and would have won if it weren’t for the costumes worn by the boys. Taylor complained it was favoritism by the two judges.”

“I wish I’d seen it.”

“I sent a picture. They look amazing, and I think I have a thing for that classic look now.” Tamara shared.

“Hang on.” She opened the message and gasped when she saw the picture. “No way!”

“Right?” She could hear the amusement from the younger girl. “And their rendition of the Righteous brothers as hey sand you’ve lost that loving feeling was so spot on!”

She grinned at the picture of the two handsome men. Jack and Nickolaj, wearing tuxedos and bowties with their hair swept back and styled like those of classic Hollywood actors. Without shame, she immediately saved the picture to her phone.

“Are there more pictures?” She pressed the younger girl, as her inner fan girl came out. “And video! There has to be a video!”

“I think Jessica recorded it. Hang on.” Tamara broke off for a moment. “She said she sent a friend request to your facebook. Check it out.”

She was stunned to see a friend request appearing in her account as first, Jessica Chastain sent her a friend request, followed by Taylor Swift, and Mary Elizabeth Winstead. She had to be dreaming.

She took a screenshot of the three friend requests before accepting them all in quick succession. She grinned, eager to add more photos to her private collection.