Free Royal Captive by Dana Marton

stepping over the line, all bets were off and he would come after her with a vengeance.
    If he did, she would be out in the open, defense less. A lot of her old friends had cut her off, feeling betrayed when she’d left the shady side of the business.
    She couldn’t count on that world hiding her again. And not all of her new acquaintances trusted her yet. If she was under scrutiny, they might not want to associate themselves with her and come to her aid.
    She was alone. She’d been alone since her father’s death.
    It was a definite advantage, she told herself, as she always did when the loneliness got to her. Prince Istvan didn’t trust her. He’d prefer to see her in jail than anywhere else. Almost enjoying his company was the most outrageous foolishness.
    Her thinking would return to normal once their paths separated.
    But she couldn’t separate them yet.
    She had to be firmly and visibly on the side of good. Personally on the recovery team, if possible. She needed to be at Istvan’s side when he brought the stolen treasure back into the country. She needed to be in the pictures, needed a seat behind the table at the press conference. She had to talk him into letting her be there.
    But now was not the time. Voices came from the hallway.
    She swore under her breath. The crew couldn’t have numbered over two dozen, a group that should have been insignificant on a ship this size, but it seemed they were constantly around.
    She immediately stepped to an open window, larger than the porthole they’d had to deal with before, slipped outside and stood on the window frame. “Boost me up.”
    To his credit, Istvan did so without asking any questions. He pushed her high enough to reach a trailing chain and hoist herself up on deck. Then she watched as he came up behind her. As much as they could, they stayed on top, not knowing the outlay of the warren of hallways, cabins and storage areas below. She didn’t like the idea of being trapped down there.
    She followed Istvan, who was already climbing the nearest container. They both preferred higher ground. He kept going, not stopping until he was on top of the container that was on top of the first. From here, they had a fair view of the ship and the sea, but were nearly invisible as long as they lay flat and kept away from the edges.
    She set the bottle and the chocolate between them, he put the figs out there, too, then pulled a chicken drumstick wrapped in a greasy piece of paper from his pocket. “Protein.”
    “I’m a vegetarian.”
    He looked at her as if she were out of her mind. “But this is an emergency.”
    “Principles are still principles. Even in an emergency. Especially in an emergency.” Of course, he probably didn’t expect someone with her background to have any principles. She absolutely hated the fact that she was beginning to care what he thought of her.
    She drank some cola first, wishing for plain water instead of the sugary liquid, then ate a handful of figs.
    “Eat it all.” Istvan pushed the bag toward her. “I’ll have the chicken. If you’re sure.”
    “Very.” She tended to cling to her convictions, a response to a life that she sometimes likened to a leaf blowing in the wind.
    Her father, the work they did together, had defined her in her childhood then as a young adult. The change she’d had to make after his passing, the bargain with the FBI, had been more difficult than she’d expected. She had to change her life, her actions, her thoughts, everything about her. It was the ultimate paradigm shift.
    She liked the person she was becoming. But from time to time, she still felt as if the ground wasn’t one-hundred-percent solid under her feet. One of the reasons why she sought to define herself with lifestyle choices, she supposed.
    Istvan wouldn’t understand. He was a prince. His whole life had been defined for him the moment he’d been born. His foundations rested on a six-hundred-year-old royal dynasty. He certainly