SEAL Out of Water (Silver SEALs, #7)

by Abbie Zanders

  Daskalakis folded his hands on the desk in front of him, his back ramrod-straight and his demeanor all business. Gabe noted his smooth hands and perfectly manicured nails. His expression was appropriately somber, his tone, professional. “Tell me, Commander, how I may assist you with this terrible business.”

  “I’d like to interview the staff and have a look around.”

  A slight, cold smile, which didn’t reach Daskalakis’s eyes, played on his lips. “Several representatives from your foreign affairs department have already spoken with the staff, Commander, and I can assure you, we have conducted a complete search of the house and grounds.”

  “I’ve read the reports,” Gabe assured him with a chilly smile of his own, resisting the urge to state the obvious: if any of that had been useful, he wouldn’t be sitting in Daskalakis’s office.

  “Let’s start by you telling me what happened the night Christos Kristikos disappeared.”

  The smile was gone. Daskalakis’s answer was smooth and precise. Rehearsed. “I have no firsthand knowledge of the events that occurred that evening. I was here, in my office, working, then retired to my rooms.”

  “When did you become aware of Mr. Kristikos’s absence?”

  “The next morning, when I took papers requiring his signature to his private quarters.”

  “And yet, Foreign Affairs didn’t become aware of the situation for several more days. Why is that?”

  A slight frown, a measured blink. “I saw no reason to contact them. Mr. Kristikos often leaves for days at a time.”

  “Without telling you?”

  “I report to Mr. Kristikos, Commander, not the other way around. If there is something pertaining to the estate that requires my knowledge, I am informed.”

  “It’s strictly an employer-employee relationship, then.”

  Daskalakis sat back slightly. “Perhaps more than that,” he said thoughtfully. “I have worked for the Kristikos family for many years, as did my father before me, and his father before him. However, I do not use that familiarity to overstep my bounds. I am sorry I cannot be of more assistance.”

  It was a clear signal the interview had gone about as far as it was going to go. Gabe was certain Daskalakis wasn’t being entirely truthful, just as he was certain the man wasn’t going to reveal anything of importance at this early stage of the game. Gabe took a few moments to scribble in his notebook, making the estate manager wait until he was finished before responding.

  “I appreciate your time,” he said, rising to his feet. Beside him, Fred did the same. “I’d like to speak with the head of estate security next.” Gabe looked down at his notebook, though he had already committed staff names and duties to memory. “Sander Argyros.”

  Daskalakis picked up the phone on his desk and pressed a button. “Commander Michaels would like to have a word with you.” Daskalakis then said something briefly in Greek, then replaced the receiver. “Your associate, Mr. Dawson is with him now. I’ll take you to him.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gabriel

  One by one, Gabe interviewed those on his list. He’d decided to go with a top-down approach, starting with the higher ups who lived on the estate and working downward from there. Getting a feel for the ones in charge would help him when it came time to approach the people who worked for them.

  Thus far, he was not impressed. They’d answered his questions with barely leashed reluctance, and he got the feeling there was a lot more they weren’t saying. More telling, none of them seemed particularly worried or broken up over the fact that their boss was MIA.

  Daskalakis remained close, shepherding him from one interview to the next and deftly answering questions without actually providing much in the way of information. For the most part, he afforded Gabe privacy during the actual Q & A, though he made sure his presence was known by lurking in the background.

  Unsurprisingly, those interviews didn’t add much to what he already knew.

  Sander Argyros, head of estate security, confirmed that no alarms had been triggered, nor had surveillance cameras captured anything out of the ordinary that would arouse suspicion or suggest foul play. He reluctantly agreed to provide Dawson with a copy of the footage from the night of the disappearance, which showed the arrival of the unknown mystery guest, but Argyros had only done so after Gabe assured him it would be treated with the utmost discretion.

  The head of the kitchen staff, Maya Panagakos, confirmed that “the master” had requested a meal for two in his private dining room that evening and had given orders they were not to be disturbed once served. She provided Gabe with a detailed account of the meal and the time it was served, but could offer nothing more.

  The head of the housekeeping staff, Phyllis Calligaris, confirmed that the private dining room had been cleared and cleaned the next morning and there had been no evidence to suggest anything had been amiss. Her husband, head groundskeeper Pearce Calligaris, said nothing unusual had been found or reported on the grounds, either.

  By noon, Gabe hadn’t learned much in terms of actual information, though he now had a better idea of what he was up against. The staff had been grudgingly respectful, subdued and generally wary, either unable or unwilling to impart anything useful. They’d all had pretty much the same things to say. “Mr. Kristikos was a private man,” and “Mr. Kristikos was a fair and generous employer,” and while they had known him and his family for many years, they knew their place and didn’t stick their noses where they didn’t belong.

  Gabe didn’t buy it. Their answers were too smooth, too practiced, to be completely believable. The lack of genuine emotion was suspect, too, especially coming from staff that had been around Christos Kristikos for most of his life.

  Of course, their lack of outward reaction might be steeped in deep loyalty and the “perfect servant” mentality that required they never spill family secrets. He hoped Dawson and Mancini had had more luck.

  He’d saved Virginia Miller for last. She was the anomaly among the live-in staff, the one who didn’t follow the same pattern. American-born, she might be more accepting of him and his questions than the others. Not to mention, depending on who was paying her bills—Christos or Darius—and the depth of her feelings for her boss, she might actually want to cooperate.

  A small spark of anticipation fired in his chest as Daskalakis led him toward the west wing, into what appeared to be the more private section of the mansion. Virginia Miller’s office was set apart from the others. Gabe wondered exactly why that was.

  She wasn’t in her office when they arrived, though a woman’s silhouette was plainly visible through a set of open French doors. She held something to her ear, her voice a barely audible soft murmur.

  Gabe turned to Daskalakis, who continued to lurk at the threshold with the ghost of a scowl on his face. His constant presence had become increasingly irksome throughout the day. The chances that anyone was going to reveal anything useful with him around hovered between slim and none, but, he supposed, that was probably the point. If Gabe had learned anything useful about the workings of the household, it was that Daskalakis was at the top of the Kristikos employee chain of command and kept everyone else firmly beneath him and on a tight leash.

  Miller’s office was a surprisingly modest space for the personal assistant of such a wealthy man. Unlike the other sections of the estate he’d seen, this one wasn’t an opulent display of wealth and privilege. It was simple. Comfortable. The room had a decidedly down-to-earth vibe, despite the obvious quality of the furnishings. Soft, neutral tones complimented the matching desk, shelves, and cabinets. Plants abounded. A set of French doors opened outward to a small veranda, the soft breeze teasing a set of semi-translucent sheers into a subtle dance.

  Organized, neat, and secure, it was a functional but friendly working space. No papers were left lying about, the slim desktop monitor screen saver playing a slideshow of various nature scenes.

  Several framed pictures were displayed on one of the shelves.
Gabe took the opportunity to examine them while he waited. A faded photo of a young girl, maybe nine or ten, her arms wrapped around a big, shaggy Shepherd that was as tall as she was. A picture of that same girl years later, wearing a cap and gown, standing with an older woman. A wedding picture, the bride and groom beaming with happiness and promise.

  Gabe frowned, feeling an irrational pang of dislike for the guy in the wedding photo. His hair and eyes were dark, his features not unlike those of the missing man. He wondered if that was coincidence, or if dark, exotic-looking guys were just her preferred type. It might go a long way in explaining her presence among the primarily-Greek staff.

  He turned back to the desk, picking up a peculiarly shaped object. Slightly longer than his large hand, it was the shape of a flattened diamond. A glass tube, filled tiny metal balls and glittery bits suspended in liquid, was attached to the end. Curious, he held it up to the light for closer inspection. It was a kaleidoscope, he realized, but nothing like the cheap plastic ones he’d had as a kid. This one was heavy and finely crafted.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked a feminine voice from behind him. Soft, with a gentle lilt and just the hint of a Southern drawl, it instantly caused his balls to tighten. “Handmade, it’s a one-of-a-kind creation. Hold it up to the light, twist the glass tube, and see what happens.”

  Feeling somewhat annoyed—both with his physical reaction and for not realizing she’d finished her phone conversation and entered the room—he did as she asked, peering through the lens to see colorful bursts of red, gold, blue, and white shifting in altering geometric patterns.

  “Reminds me of Fourth of July fireworks,” he commented.

  “Me, too,” she said, her voice rich and warm. “That’s exactly why I chose that one.” He lowered the kaleidoscope and looked down into the smiling face of Virginia Miller. That spark of anticipation flared, along with another stab of irritation. The woman was even more attractive in person than in her photos. Dressed in a conservative skirt and a shimmery blouse, there was a softness about her the camera hadn’t accurately captured.

  Soft, he amended, but not fragile.

  Her eyes, though, were just as clear and intelligent as they had been in the photo. Not even the fine wrinkles at the corners could detract from her beauty. On the contrary, they added to it. Gave her a dimension that younger women lacked. This was a woman who knew things.

  She was smaller than he’d envisioned, too. If she stepped forward, her face would tuck nicely against his chest and . . .

  Stop. Right. Fucking. There.

  “My apologies for keeping you waiting. I’m Virginia Miller.”

  She held out her hand, the first person at the estate to do so, and he took it. Her skin, like her voice, was warm and soft, her grip, pleasantly firm. And, unfortunately, had a similar effect. He compartmentalized that shit right away.

  “Gabriel Michaels. And it’s no problem.”

  “And who is this handsome fella?” she asked, smiling down at the hound by his side.

  “That’s Fred.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Fred.”

  Fred gave her a big doggie grin and offered her his paw, earning a raised brow from Gabe. Apparently, Gabe wasn’t the only one affected by the intriguing Ms. Miller. Gabe had been trying to teach him how to shake for over a year, yet that was the first time the hound had actually done it without the promise of a treat in front of his nose.

  Virginia shook his paw, gave his head an affectionate stroke, then straightened and turned to Daskalakis. “Thanks, Gregory. I’ll take it from here.”

  For the briefest of moments, something flashed in the estate manager’s eyes. Disapproval, perhaps? Oh, yeah, Gabe thought as the moment stretched out, these two did not like each other.

  Daskalakis’s features smoothed, but his eyes remained cold. “Of course. Commander, please let me know when you are finished here and I will escort you to the exit.”

  “That’s not necessary. I can show the Commander out. I know how busy you are.”

  Gabe remained silent, watching the exchange with interest. Virginia retained her smile, but her slightly-angled body and squared shoulders suggested she was accustomed to standing up to Daskalakis. Good for her. And, just maybe, good for him.

  No, not good for him, good for the investigation.

  Remarkably, it was Daskalakis who backed down first. The estate manager nodded stiffly toward Gabe, shot one last less-than-cordial glance at Virginia, then turned and walked away from the office. Once he was gone, some of the tension left Virginia’s shoulders.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Virginia

  Standing so close to him now, Virginia had a better understanding of the murmurs and whispers she’d overheard among the housemaids. Gabriel Michaels was even more imposing close up than he’d appeared from a distance. Well over six-feet tall, he had a rugged, classically male look that suggested he spent lots of time outdoors and enjoyed doing it. The black polo and tactical pants he wore revealed broad shoulders, a lean, trim waist and powerful legs, supporting that theory. Dark hair, with hints of silvery white frost, made his intense, green eyes look even more so. Clean-shaven, with a strong jaw and full male lips, he was a damn fine-looking man. But it was the aura of confidence and leashed strength radiating from him that commanded her instant attention.

  So much for appearing professional, Virginia, she chastised herself. Why not babble on about your kaleidoscope and ogle the man some more?

  She forced her eyes away from the commander and focused on his dog instead. He was a big guy, a hound by the look of him, calm but alert and well-mannered. She smiled, imagining the conniptions the others were probably having with a dog in the house. The only canines at the estate were the two huge Dobermans Sander kept in a kennel behind the garage, and since Phyllis, the head of the housekeeping staff, didn’t like dogs, they weren’t allowed inside, ever.

  Aware of Commander Michaels’s assessing gaze, Virginia moved across the office to the small sitting area, where two matching loveseat-sized sofas faced each other with a coffee table between them. She preferred the casual, friendly feel the setup provided, as opposed to the usual impersonal office chairs.

  “Please, won’t you sit down?”

  “Thank you.” He did, selecting the seat opposite hers. She was glad she’d had the foresight to brew a fresh pot of coffee after lunch and snag some snacks from the kitchen. Knowing Gregory, he’d instructed the staff not to offer the commander lunch, probably hoping it would see him on his way faster.

  “May I offer you some water or coffee? A light snack?” she asked, indicating the tray that held a carafe, two mugs, and a small plate of finger foods.

  “Coffee would be great, thanks,” he replied. She poured them both a cup. “Black?” she guessed, to which he nodded. She added light cream to hers. After a moment’s thought, she tipped the bowl of cut fruit onto a plate and filled it with water from the pitcher and put it on the floor for Fred.

  “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

  Virginia looked up, drawn in by the intensity of those green eyes once again. They were the eyes of a man who had seen and done a lot of things in his lifetime, not all of which were pleasant. She felt an instant connection with him, kind of like a kindred spirit.

  “You’re welcome. Can he have a cookie, too?”

  Was that a trick of the light, or had the stern-faced commander’s lips twitched? “I think he was hoping you’d ask.”

  She laughed softly and offered Fred a cookie. He took it gently, the short whiskers along his muzzle tickling her fingers. “Such good manners,” she praised, then summoned her courage and turned back to her human guest to find him studying her. What exactly did he see when he looked at her, she wondered?

  “So, Commander Michaels, you’re going to help us find Chris?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Clearly, the dog wasn’t the only one with good manners. After dealing with Gregory and his ilk for so many years, such
civility was a refreshing and most welcome change. She began to relax. Perhaps other things would be different, too.

  “Excellent. How can I help?”

  She slipped Fred another cookie, then sat back, crossed her legs, and lifted the mug to her lips. For a moment, his eyes followed the movement before rising to meet hers. A small frisson of pleasure ghosted over her. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her legs with such interest.

  “Why don’t we start with you, Ms. Miller?”

  She smiled, suppressing a shiver at the way his deep, rich voice rolled through her. “All right. What do you want to know?”

  He extracted a small notebook and pen from one of his many pants pockets, back to being all business. “You are Christos Kristikos’s personal assistant, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you worked for him?”

  “About ten years, give or take.”

  “And you live here at the estate?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Well, it certainly makes for a nice morning commute.” She smiled.

  He didn’t return it. His eyes flicked toward the wedding photo. “Does your husband live here, too?”

  “No. I’m a widow.”

  He wrote that down. “What are your responsibilities?”

  “Among other things, I handle Chris’s personal correspondence, make his appointments, and ensure he knows where he’s supposed to be and when.”

  The commander stopped writing, his eyes lifting and narrowing. “You call him Chris? Not Mr. Kristikos?” His tone hadn’t changed significantly, but it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

  “Yes.”

  “Would you say you are on familiar terms, then?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  The corners of his lips turned downward as he lowered his head and went back to scratching in his notebook. “I see,” he said, but she was beginning to think he was not seeing things properly at all. In a matter of minutes, that initial sense of connection she’d felt had degraded, replaced by a deepening sense of unease. Virginia shifted slightly and sipped her coffee, hoping she was wrong.