Thor sat behind the boat’s wheel with Consuela on his lap. The rising sun gilded his skin and hair, and he looked more god-like than ever.
And Consuela, with her tawny fur blown back and a grin on her clever face, made a fitting side-kick.
“Where are we going?”
He turned his head my way. “Venice.”
The morning air was crisp and salty and sharp. I drew deep breaths into my lungs and wished for coffee. “Venice was the first European city to embrace coffee.”
Thor tilted his head. “Trade routes?”
“Exactly.” The thought of a cappuccino made my mouth water, and I prayed we reached the city before eleven. After eleven, Italians considered drinking cappuccinos uncouth. “Why Venice?”
“There’s a safehouse. We can regroup.”
A safehouse? A safehouse suggested an old coffee maker and stale beans. The opposite of sipping the perfect mix of espresso, steamed milk, and foam at a sunny cafe. “I’ve been thinking.”
Thor glanced my way. So did Consuela.
“The auction.” We’d gone to Crete to save the girls from trafficking, not crash an auction. But Kostas Dimitriou, Yurgi’s friend (and fellow extortionist?) had called together some of the world’s richest men. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was selling. I touched the woven leather of my Bottega Veneta tote which rested on the seat next to me. I usually carried Alaïa bags, but the gorgeous laser cuts in my Alaïa tote would make the box too visible. “Could Dimitriou be the one behind the attack? Does he want the box back?”
Thor eased off the throttle, and the boat slowed. He stared at the sea as if its depths hid the answers to all his questions. Finally, he said, “You’re right. We should go to Athens.”
Not where I expected this conversation to lead. At all. I had zero love for Athens. Or Greek coffee. “Because it went so well last time?”
“Because we need to talk to Dimitriou.”
Athens. Sweet Greek coffee rather than a cappuccino. “Can’t we ask Yurgi for Dimitriou’s phone number and call him?”
“It’s easier to detect lies face to face.”
Dimitriou had arranged an auction. That fact was indisputable. But for what? The contents of the box or something else entirely?
Thor scratched at the golden scruff on his cheeks.
“We have the box.” I rolled my tight shoulders. “Dimitriou can’t sell what he doesn’t have.”
“Exactly. Which is a good reason to steal it back. We have no way of knowing if that’s the gun in the photograph. The photos might not be original.”
“So he gave us the fakes and decided to auction the real items?
“It’s a possibility.” Thor turned the wheel, and we headed south instead of north.
The wind off the night-chilled water was cool, and I pulled the light sweater I’d grabbed tighter around my shoulders. “Who sent those men, and how did they get onto the island?” Except for our boat, the dock had been empty.
“My bet? The Federal Security Service.”
I leaned my head back and stared at the morning sky. The chill that shook my limbs came from inside of me, not the wind. “The SVR?” The Foreign Intelligence Service was the Russian equivalent of the CIA, but with fewer morals. “Could it be Johnny Soo?” I was clutching at straws. An amoral billionaire I could handle. Russian spies? Not so much.
“How would he know to come after us?”
“Fair point. Maybe Dimitriou sent them. Maybe he wants the box back.” If Dimitriou sent the killers, going to Athens was a terrible idea.
Consuela jumped from Thor’s lap, then leapt onto mine, where she snuggled close.
I stroked her soft fur as too many questions and too few answers danced in my coffee-deprived brain. “I should call Yurgi.”
Thor handed me the satellite phone, and I dialed Yurgi’s number.
“Zdrástvujte.”
“Yurgi, it’s me.”
“Poppy, do you know the time?” He paused, and I pictured him squinting at a clock. “What’s wrong?”
“We just left the island. There was a hit squad.” My throat tightened, and I couldn’t manage another word.
“Are you hurt? Where are you?”
“At sea.” Literally and figuratively. “The caretakers, Melia and Oscar—” my voice broke. “They’re dead.”
“The package?”
“I have it with me.”
He exhaled. “You opened it?”
“We did.” The words bowed under the weight of my suspicions.
“It’s not what you think.”
“You didn’t use the contents to get favorable contracts or inside deals?”
A long silence followed. “I used the contents to ensure my safety and Viktor’s.” Viktor was Yurgi’s son. “Now that protection extends to your mother.”
“And Dimitriou? Why would a Greek need dirt on a Russian president?”
“Kostas does business in Russia. The contents evened the playing field.”
“Who else knew about the box?” I asked.
“Ahmet Köse, Dal Cho, and Maksim Volkov.”
The names meant nothing to me, but I committed them to memory. “Would one of them come after us?”
“No.” He sounded so certain. “I will make inquiries. I’ll found out who invaded my island. Where are you going?”
I glanced at Thor. “We haven’t decided. The main thing was to get away.”
“Poppy, the contents of that box are not worth your life. Or Mark’s.”
“The contents—”
“I did not believe the box would put you in danger.”
I wasn’t entirely sure it had. “Could it be Yahontov who invaded the island?” The gangster who ran the human trafficking ring was none too happy with Thor and me.
“Only if he wants to die an excruciating death. That was made clear.” Yurgi sounded supremely confident.
“So. The contents of the box…” I let my voice trail off, waiting for confirmation.
“There should be photographs, a gun, a bullet casing, death certificates, a signed affidavit, and—” Yurgi cleared his throat.
“And?”
“I can remember nothing more.”
I gazed at the lavender sky and did a quick mental inventory. “That sounds about right.”
“I am sorry. I did not think you would be in danger. Kostas, Ahmet, Dal, Maksim, and I keep the contents safe. We have for years. And nothing like this has ever happened.”
“You have a deal of some kind?” I asked.
“If anything suspicious happens to one of us, the others will release the contents.
“When you were kidnapped?” Yurgi had been abducted while at dinner with my mother, and I’d gone to London to find him.
“They were in talks. It was close.”
“You trust these men?”
“With my life.”
Even Dimitriou? The sun crested the horizon, and I narrowed my eyes at its brightness. “I need to make another call.”
“Be careful,” he told me. “If it is the SVR looking for the box, you are in grave danger.”
They’d awakened me with murder. I was aware. “Keep Chariss safe.” We hung up, and I dialed Mr. Brown.
“Hello.”
“It’s Poppy.”
“You had an eventful morning.” That Mr. Brown, a master of understatement. “Where are you?”
“Headed toward Athens.”
“Why?”
“To talk to a friend of Yurgi’s.”
“Where’s Stone?”
“Captaining the boat.”
“Have him call me.”
“About the island...” We’d left a gruesome scene behind us.
“A clean-up crew is on their way. With any luck, there will be identification on the bodies, and we’ll discover who they work for.”
“I’m not that lucky.”
“Your life seems charmed to me.”
I held Consuela closer to my chest. We were together because I’d been kidnapped by a Mexican drug lord.
“Any idea what they wanted?” he asked.
The box. But if I told Mr. Brown about the box, he’d want to know what was in it. Giving the US government that information seemed like the fast track to getting Yurgi killed. “We stole the girls from Russian gangsters.”
Hearing my response, Thor turned his head. And frowned.
“That’s a possibility. Or it could be the package you picked up from Dimitriou.”
Had Thor told him about the box? Now I frowned.
“What’s in it?” Mr. Brown demanded.
“I’ll tell you when we open it.”
“You expect me to believe you haven’t?”
“Too tired last night. Too busy this morning.”
“Hmph. Open it now.”
“I can’t. We’re at sea. It’s too windy.”
“Have Stone call me.” He hung up, and I lowered the phone to the seat.
“You should have told him.”
“The box is Yurgi’s insurance policy. Without it, he might take a tumble out a window or have a sudden, uncontrollable urge to kill himself. The same thing might happen to Chariss.” Just the thought iced my blood.
Consuela tilted her head and licked my chin. Yip. You’re strong. You can handle a few highly trained, murderous spies.
She was wrong. But I appreciated her vote of confidence. I straightened my shoulders. “So, Athens?”
Thor nodded. “Athens.”
“Yurgi trusts Dimitriou. With his life. We could go to Venice.”
Thor grinned. “You just want a cappuccino from some fancy cafe on the Grand Canal.
He knew me well. “Fine.” I picked up the phone. “I’ll arrange a berth.”
The line rang and rang, and just when I was ready to give up, a sleepy voice said, “Hello.”
“Martine, it’s Poppy.” When I was a teenager, my mother had dated Martine’s father. Like so many romances between actresses and directors, the end was written before the opening credits ran. They broke up, but Martine and I remained close.
Now she was floating around the Med on a yacht that could comfortably sleep twenty with her boyfriend Carlos, a Brazilian billionaire’s son. “You’re in trouble.” A statement. Not a question.
“No.” Yes. “Why would you assume that?”
“You’re always in trouble.”
“About Venice…”
“You can’t go.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated.” I closed my eyes and took a breath. “I need a favor.”
She answered that with silence.
“Does Carlos belong to a yacht club in Athens?”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Would he please reserve a berth for us? Guest passes?” Another deep breath. “Without using my name?”
“You are in trouble.”
“It has a way of finding me.”
“Give me a minute.” She spoke to Carlos for a moment, then said, “The Helenas Yacht Club. You owe me a night out.”
“Thank you. We’ll go dancing as soon as this—when this—”
“Let me guess. It’s complicated.”
“Exactly.”
“As soon as it’s settled, we go out.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Paris.”
“It’s a date.”
Thor and I arrived at the yacht club looking like we’d rolled out of bed, climbed through the bushes, packed in a hurry, then spent an hour and a half in an open boat.
“We should clean up,” I said.
“Here?” Thor frowned at the elegant building.
“They have locker rooms. And a dining room.” Because my stomach demanded attention. “And coffee.”
Coffee, the magic word that had Thor nodding his assent.
Thanks to Carlos, we were quickly granted full access to the club’s facilities.
I requested a guest locker, shoved my belongings inside, then took a blissfully hot shower.
I emerged from the locker room with clean hair, make-up on my face, a Bella Tu dress the same color as the Aegean grazing my ankles, and sandals I could run in on my feet.
I found Thor in the dining room. He wore khakis and a faded polo shirt.
A smile split my face. Thor didn’t need the right belt or watch or shoes to attract attention. He was that gorgeous. Every woman in the club’s dining room was staring at him. A few were drooling.
I joined him at the table, and a waiter appeared and asked, “Coffee, miss?”
“Please.” I lifted Consuela onto my lap, and she scowled at the women ogling Thor.
The waiter returned with heaven in a cup. Well, not exactly heaven. Greek coffee with its lurking grounds wasn’t my favorite. But it was strong enough to wipe a year’s worth of cobwebs from my brain.
“Thank you.” More than he could ever know.
“For breakfast, miss?”
I looked at Thor. “Have you ordered?”
“I waited for you.”
“Do you know what you want?”
He flashed a grin that sizzled all the way to the tips of my toes. “Yes.”
I ignored the warmth of cheeks, dragged my gaze away from his handsome face, and turned to the waiter. “Scrambled eggs and a fruit cup.”
Yip. Don’t forget!
“And bacon, please. A side of bacon.”
Thor ordered an omelet, and the waiter left us.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked. “We go to Dimitriou’s house and demand answers?” That seemed a poor strategy. “Or do we politely request an explanation?” One he might not have. Kostas Dimitriou might be entirely innocent. And Consuela might really be a St. Bernard.
“That’s the starting point. Are the items we have authentic? That’s our first question.”
I nodded my agreement.
Thor ran a hand over his now smooth jaw and stared into his coffee cup.
“What are you thinking?”
He stiffened as if I’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t. “I’m still thinking about where we could disappear. There must be somewhere no one could find us.”
“Somewhere no one would think to look.” Some little town in the middle of nowhere.
“Like Arkansas?”
“There’s no need for extremes.”
He grinned. “You could meet my parents.”
The coffee in my stomach created a whirlpool. “That would be nice.”
The waiter arrived with our food, and I devoted one-hundred percent of my attention to my eggs.
“You don’t have to meet them, Poppy. My mother’s not a movie star. My father’s not a spy.”
I looked up from my plate. “I want to meet them. It’s just...”
“What?”
“I’ve never met parents before.” I wasn’t exactly the type of girl normal, caring parents would want for their son. I was famous because of my movie-star mother, whose picture appeared in the dictionary next to narcissistic. My father was about as reliable as utilities during a hurricane. He came and went, and I was never sure how long he’d be around. Oh, and strangers regularly tried to kill me.
“They’ll be your first?”
I nodded.
“And hopefully, your last.”
My heart seized, but my lips curled into a smile.
We ate quickly.
Consuela inhaled her bacon.
Then we took a cab to Kostas Dimitriou’s neighborhood. Thor asked the driver to drop us two blocks away, and, hiding behind dark sunglasses, we approached Dimitriou’s ochre-hued house on foot.
We made an effort to look casual. A young couple out for a stroll with their dog.
“Do you see anyone watching?” I asked.
“No. Doesn’t mean they’re not there.”
Peachy.
We paused fifty feet from the house.
Yip. That’s not good. Consuela had that right.
The door to Dimitriou’s treasure-filled home stood ajar. Worse, it looked as if someone had kicked it in.
Why, just once, couldn’t things be easy?