“I haven’t seen anything wash up on this shore with my own eyes for six months.” He grinned at her, then without thinking reached out and pulled her close for a deep, soul-searching kiss. “See? You’re good luck.”
“That must be it—hey!” She stepped back, clearly startled, as he bent down and stripped off his pants as well, leaving nothing but his briefs and shoes. He’d ordinarily strip his briefs off too, but he didn’t want to frighten Lauren back to the mainland. “Aren’t there reefs out there? Won’t you get cut?”
He fished out a pair of gloves from his pants and made sure his ankle knife was strapped tightly, then straightened again. “Gloves will protect me against the reefs, but clothes weigh me down in the water. I’m too used to swimming without. Either way, you should stay out of the water,” he turned to wink at her. “Sharks.”
“Sharks?”
He cut off his impulse to laugh by running forward into the sea, diving deep as soon as the sandy bottom fell away. The water felt good against his body as he cut through it, his muscles stretching and straining, the sun beating down on him. As he swam, he allowed the all too familiar hope to fire anew within him, bright and fierce. If there was a piece of the plane, a new piece, it didn’t mean that Ari was alive, necessarily. But it meant that the search could continue anew, would continue anew. It meant that more questions would be asked of more people, more money spent on trying to find out what had happened to his beloved friend. His friend who should not have died so early, who should not have died at all.
Dimitri reached the outer reef more quickly than he expected, and gingerly worked his way over to the debris, forcing himself not to examine it too closely. No matter what it was, he was honor bound to bring it ashore. It might not be what he was searching for, but someone else could be, or someone could use it. Anything rendered completely useless was hung up for its inherent beauty, and this bright blue-silver sheet might possibly be…
He reached the sheet and found the point where it was attached to the reef. Using his knife, he cut away the coral, murmuring his apologies as he freed the large sheet. Getting back to the beach was slow and treacherous, and he finally made it there by using the wreckage as a sort of kickboard. By then, of course, he had also learned what he needed to know from the bit of debris. And he slogged out of the sea far more tired than when he went in.
Lauren was waiting for him, but her eyes were on his face, not the shiny piece of metal he slung to the sand. Having her here, seeing her expression turn from hopeful trepidation to soft dismay, was enough to undo him. He sank to his knees, not realizing that she’d rushed over to him, was kneeling beside him, until he felt her arms around him, stronger than he would have expected, and he sank his head forward and encountered her shoulder, sturdy and certain and true.
The tears that he had not allowed to fall for months broke free then, beneath the bright sun, amidst all the beauty and unspoiled splendor of the white sand beach of Miranos. He’d stayed stoic through the funeral and through every military campaign with Ari’s younger brother, Kristos. He had stayed firm in front of his mother and grandmother, both of them treating him as if he might break. He’d remained stern in the face of the utterly despairing Queen Catherine, her face ravaged with pain and loss.
But here, in the arms of this woman, he could let go.
And he did.
He wept in silent, shuddering sobs, his breath a sharp bark when he expelled it, the tears that poured forth welling up from places he'd thought he'd never unearth. He shook in Lauren’s steady grip, and eventually he held her back, clinging to her as she rocked him on the sand, the stream of his tears like losing his life’s blood on the battlefield, blood he would willingly have shed to save Ari from such a stupid, senseless fate. He wept for the friendship that had been ended, and the friendship he could not let go. His unwavering refusal to let Ari die and get on with his own life remained an open wound that would not heal. It couldn't heal, as long as he resisted the truth. But neither could he accept that truth and give up on Ari. Not yet, anyway.
Not even when the sea mocked him with her gifts of twisted steel.
It was a long time before he realized he’d stopped crying, and that Lauren still held him—more loosely now, allowing him space to breathe, to be, while maintaining connection. He lifted his head and offered her a rueful smile, the tears threatening again when he saw her face was wet as well.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly.
“There’s no shame in caring for your friend, Dimitri.” Her words sounded as if she was a thousand years old, filled with all the ache and pain surfacing that she never showed. “Everyone should have a friend like you. The world would be a better place.” Blinking rapidly, as if she’d somehow betrayed too much, she looked to the metal sheet. “Not from the plane, I take it?”
“It’s too thin.” He shook his head. “It’s a piece of some plane, but not the reinforced aircraft Ari had. I should have realized that immediately, but—” He trailed off, and Lauren reached for his hand. He needed her presence more than he wanted to, and certainly more than he wanted to admit. But she didn’t push for him to talk about any of that. She didn’t push at all. In some ways, maybe she needed the simple connection of a held hand every bit as much. Maybe.
But he couldn’t help but think about the reality of their situation. This idyll would last—at best—another day. And then she would go back to her world, he to his.
How ironic that, though his job was fighting and sometimes death, hers at this moment seemed the grimmer prospect.
Chapter Fifteen
Dimitri was quiet as they exited the sculpture garden to make their way back to the main cove. They’d searched the rest of the reef area again on foot, peering out to sea, but nothing else caught their eye, and gradually, the beauty of the day and the brightness of the sun had served to drive their dark moods away. Now they walked back more slowly than they’d come, and Lauren wondered at that. Was Dimitri focusing on his sorrow over Ari’s death? Or was there something else slowing his stride?
Would he miss her?
Grow up. She didn’t have the luxury of worrying about that, yet the thought persisted. In a day, maybe more, maybe less, they’d both be back in their own worlds, fighting their own demons—real or imagined. And maybe she had overreacted. Henry hadn’t done anything intensely crazy in a while. Yes, fine, he’d drawn up marriage documents, but how damning were those, really? The mark of an efficient man, a confident man, maybe. Not a psychopath.
Right?
As they left the shady confines of the jungle, Dimitri angled toward the beach rover. “Need to check in,” he said, and she colored with more embarrassment. That was what he’d been thinking about. The messy business of his emotions done, he wanted to connect with something real, tangible. His work in the GNSF fit that bill nicely.
Lauren grabbed her purse and wandered off a short distance to watch the fishermen’s return, while Dimitri recovered his phone. A quick check of her cell indicated no signal, but there were also no texts in the queue from her sister, or from anyone, really. Apparently, Dimitri’s sister wasn’t a big texter. Then again, when you’d spent your life on a tourist island where everyone knew everyone, face-to-face communication suddenly seemed a lot more efficient.
As Dimitri had promised, the boats were coming in to the small port, their nets full of fish, or what she assumed was fish, the weight of them dragging the small craft deep in the water. With as much money as the large fishing conglomerates surely made in this area, it surprised her how many men and women were apparently trying their hand at the trade. Trying and succeeding, from what she could tell. Some of the craft were large and sturdy, meant for deep sea fishing, and their boat names were a mixture of Garronois, Turkish, and Greek.
The dock area exploded into a tightly choreographed burst of activity, and she watched, almost mesmerized, until Dimitri came up beside her.
“So, do you want to become a fisherman?”
“It looks
like way too much work.”
He laughed. “Some would say the same of being cooped up in a high-rise all day long, staring at tiny words and numbers on a computer.”
“Fair enough.” She glanced at him, struck by his smile in the bright sun. He really was in his element on this island—probably would be in any place, as long as he could live and work in the sun and surf. “Any news from the mainland? My parents?”
Dimitri sobered. “Apparently, your parents have sided with Smithson in his search for you—not surprising, since, according to Stefan, he is a staunch friend of the family.”
At Henry’s name, it was as if Lauren’s bubble of protection was pricked. She drew herself up, steeling her reserves. “Sided, meaning what?”
Dimitri seemed to be weighing his response, and she rolled her eyes. “I can assure you there is nothing you can tell me about either my parents or Henry that will surprise me. That ship has long since sailed.”
He grimaced. “Stefan and Cyril attempted a brief subterfuge, announcing to your parents that they had a solid lead on your whereabouts but that it should be kept in strictest confidence. The chatter we were monitoring from Smithson’s boat indicated that such confidence included a call straight to him. He was delivering orders to track you down when the royal family reversed the call.”
“Does he know you’ve been tracking him?”
Dimitri shifted. “Potentially. Chatter stopped shortly after that. The bug was not discovered, or at least not destroyed, but given the change in conversational flow, it’s no longer considered viable as an information tool.”
She nodded. It was hard to say if Henry knew he’d been tracked, but his natural caution was enough to keep his men quiet if he suspected it was possible. She’d traveled often enough with her parents aboard his yacht to know his men followed him to the letter, out of a combination of fear and respect more than genuine liking. Then again, Smithson paid for the best, and got the best. Liking the man had nothing to do with it.
“What’s the plan, then?” She knew what was coming. They would return her to the fold of her family, with some trumped-up excuse that she’d been hysterical, imperious, demanding, spoiled. Everyone would expect that. She could probably pull that off. In fact, she could definitely pull that off.
Dimitri, however, surprised her. He gestured her toward the bar, and they moved down the walkway. “We have several options,” he said. “If you would prefer to run, I have the authority to assist you in your escape. If you would prefer to confront Smithson on the mainland, we can arrange for a formal dinner. If you would prefer to play the spoiled socialite, we can make that work as well. It’s really the approach that you feel you can manage most safely.”
She glanced at him as they entered the cool interior of the bar. “You’d let me choose? What’s in the best interest for the royal family?”
“That’s a movable consideration, as it turns out.” Dimitri signaled for drinks, and they settled at a high table. Lauren’s gaze moved from fisherman to sailor to dock worker and back as people moved through the bar seeking respite from the heat of the day. “You show up as the spoiled penitent. That is easiest. The confrontation at the palace is also manageable. Flight is the hardest, because it demonstrates our meddling in the affairs of a non-national, but it can also be arranged.”
“Flight would be foolish.” Lauren shook her head. As she considered the issue, she distractedly tracked a well-muscled man in dark clothes, his sun-bronzed skin a striking counterpoint to his technical watch. The watch seemed overmatched for his outfit, but he looked like the leader of his little band of men. Probably from one of the larger boats. Her gaze lingered on the brightly polished watch as she considered her options. “A confrontation seems dangerous as well, even an exceedingly polite one. Best that I play the brat who came to her senses, a simpering fool. If I can pull it off, maybe that’ll be the play that ensures Henry loses interest. It’s worth a try.”
Dimitri’s expletive was succinct. “Stefan suggested you would opt for that approach. Very well. With that plan, it’s best to return overnight, after sending messages that you’ve been located and will return tomorrow. We’ll have multiple boats set out from several islands, as well as official vehicles as decoys. With any luck, we’ll get to the palace unnoticed.”
She smiled, following the dark-skinned man as he moved toward the bar to order more drinks for his team. “You seem to be doing that a lot these days. Shuttling Americans under cloak of night.”
“Whatever the job requires.”
Dimitri took a slug of his beer, while Lauren’s gaze narrowed on the sailor. He was not an attractive man, but he looked capable despite his roughness. The watch was the only thing that really marked him as acting above his station. It seemed—strange. Not a brand she recognized, but clearly it’d cost serious money.
“Who’s caught your eye so effectively?” Dimitri’s tone was teasing, but as he turned to follow Lauren’s gaze, he stopped.
“That watch…” he murmured.
“Right? Totally too high-end for the guy. I thought so too.”
“It’s not that.” Dimitri set his beer down on the bar, easily, casually. Almost too easily and casually, and Lauren’s nerves pricked to high awareness. “I think I recognize it.” He reached down to his ankle as if he was adjusting his sandal, then sat up again.
Lauren froze. Dimitri was palming his knife.
“If I’m right, it belongs to Ari.”
The man ambled back to his table, laughing and unconcerned, looking for all the world like he’d be there awhile. Dimitri racked his memory. He’d seen this man dozens of times over the past few years, and certainly since Ari had died. He wasn’t a thug or a pirate, any more than were the rest of the men who made the most of their opportunities on the high seas without directly stealing from their fellow fishermen. He’d never once caused trouble or stood out in any way. Dimitri hadn’t noticed the man wearing a watch before, but when he came down to this port, it was to look for found goods among his network, not stolen watches brazenly displayed on a stranger’s wrist.
He couldn’t be mistaken, though. Ari could afford the finest timepieces in the world, but he’d eschewed the luxury brands for a dive watch that had been custom altered from a Sea Hawk timepiece to incorporate details that made it ideal as either a dive or flight watch, since Ari was a fan of both. For this man to be wearing it so openly could only mean he had no idea whose it had been originally.
Nevertheless, the blade in Dimitri’s hand itched to cut it off the man.
“Is that the best approach?” Lauren smiled brightly at him, so brightly that it took him by surprise. She kept talking through her teeth. “Do you want to alert this group that you’ve an issue with this man, and take the watch from him bodily? Cause a scene?”
He scowled at her. “This isn’t your business.”
“No. Making deals is my business. Which you’d know if you had read up on that dossier Stefan had provided you.” She reached out and patted his hand. “How much money do you have on you, and how much money do you think he paid for the watch? He didn’t steal it. He doesn’t look the type.”
That did get his attention, but his scowl only deepened. “The watch cost Ari close to twenty thousand euros. I don’t carry that kind of cash.”
“Well, neither does he. That’s nowhere close to the amount he paid someone for it.”
Dimitri snorted. “No. He paid probably five hundred. I have a thousand euros on me.” She blinked at him, and he shrugged. “In case we found something today.”
She nodded. “Well, it looks like we did. You sure it’s Ari’s? Lot of watches in the world, and we can only play the ignorant-tourist card once. If he knows you’re the one interested and not me, the price will go up.”
Irritation ratcheted through him, but he knew Lauren might well be right. She appeared to be a tourist on holiday, one with money to burn but not too much of it. Not anywhere close to the amount she probably normally slung aro
und. He shrugged. “It’s worth a try. You make the play, and if you’re not successful, I’ll cut it from his hand myself.”
She leaned over and kissed him as he used his free hand to fish his wallet out of his pocket. “Then for now, hide that meat cleaver you’ve got there, ’kay?” She palmed his wallet and was gone.
Dimitri held the beer at an angle where he could watch Lauren the whole time, and he didn’t get rid of the knife. Despite what she thought, he had read Stefan’s entire file on her. Multiple times. She was good at what she did—making deals, glad-handing, PR shit. He supposed she was good at business, but she never seemed to stick around on any one project long enough to really tell for sure. He’d not had any occasion to witness her negotiating skills in person, and he wasn’t happy about it now.
Still, he couldn’t deny that she looked the part of a wide-eyed tourist as she hesitantly approached the table of men, appearing as out of place as she possibly could with her blonde hair and soft clothes. Thank God his sister had dressed her in local attire, or the price would have gone up a few hundred more euros on general principles.
He turned to the bartender as Lauren began talking in earnest to the laughing man with Ari’s watch. The man knew him well, and was also no idiot. “She’s safe with him,” he said in a low voice. “Put away the knife. I want no trouble here.”
“I’ve seen him before, I know he’s no trouble.” Dimitri shrugged. “Not him I want anyway, but his watch.”
“His watch!” The bartender’s eyes widened. “I thought you wanted wreckage.”
Dimitri scowled, causing the man to stand back sharply. “I’d no idea personal items would be floating around. He’s worn it long? A year?”
“No, not so long as that.” The bartender scratched his beard. “Six months, maybe. I remember it was New Year’s, round about. He had it then. Assumed he’d won it or bought it, but fair and square. He wasn’t hiding it.”
Dimitri nodded. “Name and craft? Where he’s heading next?” He shifted his gaze to the bartender, then away again. “There is money in it for you.” Assuming Lauren left him with any.
Captured (Gowns & Crowns #2) Page 15
