by Sofia Grey
“I thought you were going out today? Sylvie was hoping you’d go shopping with her. I’ll come back later with Andrei. Save you a job.”
For fuck’s sake. Aside from pissing in a circle around her, Charlie couldn’t have demonstrated his claim of Daisy more clearly. And why did Nathan care anyway?
It was sheer curiosity that drove him to check out Charlie’s internet presence, during the break between classes. He stared, dumbfounded. Over a million hits for Charlie Jones. This guy was seriously famous. Or infamous. Daisy’s unease started to make sense.
Nathan flicked through the most popular pages, many of which showed Charlie with one blonde or another draped over him. All Night Charlie, known for his repeat performances between the sheets, but also known for changing his partner as frequently as he changed his shirt. Poor Daisy. Did she have any idea of his reputation?
Common sense rang its annoying bell inside his head. Of course she knew what her fiancé was like. She moved in the same elite circle of rock stars. She didn’t need rescuing. She didn’t need Nathan.
And Nathan needed to stop mooning over her. He had a life of his own.
He made the time to phone Anita, to take up her amazing offer. She was thrilled. Even though he’d see her at the christening on Sunday, she’d come over this evening with her husband, so they could talk about the partnership in more detail and make plans. Nathan let out a sigh of relief. At least one thing was going well in his world.
His mind drifted. The memory of Daisy in his arms was a form of torture. He’d pretended, for a few minutes, that she was his girl. And that was as close as she’d ever be.
As he stuffed hay into nets and refilled buckets of water, all he could see was a continuous loop of Daisy, her hair gleaming in the sunlight, his chin resting on her shoulder. Those few stolen moments would have to be enough.
*
It was a good job Tanner was behind the wheel on the return journey to London, as Jack was stuck inside his own head. No matter how he tried to rationalise things, Juli’s betrayal tore at him. What the fuck did she see in Yanni? Why—how—did he manage to brainwash her so easily? And Maria too? Jack shook his head in disbelief, tasting bile in his mouth.
He had to push past the anger and hurt. He needed to focus his thoughts.
A life without Juli was not an option. Whatever decisions he made from this point on, he had to bear that in mind. They were adults, and they could deal with their shit in an adult way, no matter how impossible that seemed in this moment. Space would help. A chance for them both to get things into perspective. Some time for Jack to calm down and let go of the murderous thoughts he had about Yanni.
His phone trilled. The sudden noise made him start. It was Aiden, so Jack put him on speaker.
“I know this isn’t a secure line,” said Aiden, “but I’ll try to be quick. The good news is that our friend in the basement has been identified by his fingerprints. The bad news is he’s been released from hospital. His name is Vasily Kurynov. He was on the Russian Olympic weightlifting team back in 2000 but failed to get a medal. As far as we can tell, he’s been employed in a variety of security roles since then. It’s quite a common thing, for the Russian Mafia to employ ex-athletes as hired muscle. I’m sending his picture to your phone.”
Jack examined the headshot. “The guy I grabbed at Juli’s house has the physique of a weightlifter. And he was big. It seems likely they’re working together, so do we have any idea who was paying him?”
“Not yet, although the owner of Gio’s seems likely. Giorgos Angelou—Greek in origin—but we have precious little intel on him at present. I’ll keep you posted.”
Tanner joined in. “Are you stopping somewhere or staying on the move?”
“We’re in a motel at the moment, and we’ll rest this afternoon and be ready to meet up with you when you’re back. I’ve more news on the problem Yves had. This was the method of choice for Russian assassins for some years, and potentially it still is. We have another implied link to the Russian mafia. Which again, is not good news.”
Jack glanced at Tanner. His jaw was set, teeth grinding, fingers curled tight around the steering wheel. “Aiden, have you made the call to your people yet?”
“I’ve a conference call with them in fifteen minutes. I’ll bring you up to speed later.”
There was little more to say. As they sped down the quiet country lanes in the afternoon sunshine, the bright day outside seemed a million miles away from the dark hole Jack and the others had found themselves in.
Tanner quietly voiced his thoughts. “Russian mafia, huh? They’re nasty bastards. If they’re hunting Yanni, he’s in deep shit.”
*
Juli needed to keep occupied, while Aiden disappeared to dial into a conference call with his team. There were too many facets to this puzzle. Too much information to process in a linear fashion. It was time to think creatively, so she adopted an approach she often used at work.
With the help of the reception staff downstairs, she assembled the necessary stationery supplies and got started.
She taped sheets of A3 white paper to the wall, to make a background, and then she sat down with a pile of coloured sticky notes, gold stars, and marker pens.
By the time Aiden returned, she was engrossed in her task. He examined the paper, now adorned with brightly coloured notes, lines connecting them and unconnected notes arranged around the sides. “Good work, Juli. It’s an Ideas Board, yeah?”
She nodded. “Everything we know—or assume—is written on a note. If it’s a fact, rather than an assumption, I give it a gold star. Then we move them around and join up the connections. In theory, we’ll be able to identify the gaps and figure out what we’re missing.”
He joined her at the table, picked up a notepad and began writing.
“Do we have backup now?” she asked, since he didn’t seem to be volunteering the information. “Are your people getting involved?”
“Yes.” He scribbled more, peeled off a yellow note and then started on another. “It’s turning into a counter-agency operation. They’re establishing links with local police and other agencies.” He didn’t sound happy about it.
Juli noted the strain on his face. “How’s your knee? Is it giving you problems today?” Being zapped by Maria’s stun gun couldn’t have helped him.
Cool, grey eyes met hers. “Honestly? It’s not great.”
“And are you in trouble at work too? Because of us? Because of me?”
He shook his head briefly and focused on the notes before him. “It’s not a problem.” His voice was steady. Others might have been fooled into thinking he spoke the truth. Pushing himself upright, he limped to the paper on the wall. “Let’s carry on with your Ideas Board. See if we can figure out what the hell we’ve been missing.”
Guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. How did she manage to fuck up so much in a short space of time? If only she could turn back the clock, go back to the conversation with Maria, and then replay things differently… Yanni would still be handcuffed to Charlie’s spare bed, Maria would be safe, Jack wouldn’t be hurting, and Aiden wouldn’t be in trouble.
Juli couldn’t change what happened. She had to make amends. To fix this un-fucking-fixable situation before it got any worse, if that was possible.
An hour later, they’d amassed a huge amount of information.
Aiden carefully photographed it with his phone, ready to share with Jack and Tanner. When he rang them back, they were still on the road, but on the outskirts of London.
Juli tried to sound confident when she spoke, as though her marriage wasn’t falling apart around her ears. “I’ve had an idea about the vehicle they’re using at the moment. When we were in New Zealand, Yanni kept a spare car as a backup. He’s fond of his Plan-B strategies. It stands to reason he may have kept one near where Maria’s car was dumped. Either that or he stole one. But either way, I’m willing to bet he didn’t travel far to get it. Can you go check out the street where
Maria’s car was left, and see if any cars have been stolen?”
Aiden gave Tanner the address, and he confirmed they’d head straight there.
“Good idea.” Jack sounded distant. “Any other suggestions?”
Juli gazed at the Ideas Board. “Not yet. We’re still fleshing out theories.”
She and Aiden carried on working. There was a staggering amount of data, but when it was put together, it didn’t seem to make any sense.
“Okay. Let’s recap.” Aiden pulled up a chair to lean on.
Juli examined the notes and considered where to start. “Facts first. Papa was poisoned with Thallium. Papa met Yanni in Starbucks at least once. Yanni knew Papa had been poisoned with Thallium. Yanni visited Gloria’s on Sunday night. Yanni was wounded in some form of attack and turned up at my house on Monday. The story about Irina seems to be true. There was a shoot-out in the basement garage with a Russian. My house was broken into by the bouncer from Gloria’s. Yanni has been in the country at least a few weeks, using his Alain Auberge identity.”
“Then we have the assumptions,” said Aiden. “Yanni seemed surprised—horrified, even—when he recognised Jack as Serenity. Yanni knew you were married to Jack O’Donnell, possibly from a conversation with Yves. Yanni was with Yves when he was poisoned. Yanni is heading for a meet with Irina on Saturday.”
Something nagged at the back of Juli’s brain. She stared at the board and reached for one particular yellow note. She turned to Aiden and spoke slowly, as she worked through the idea forming. “It’s weird, how freaked Yanni was when he saw Jack. He called him Serenity and seemed concerned about who he works for. And then he went and quizzed me about my Jack O’Donnell, which suggests he knew the name of my husband, but not the identity. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.” Aiden frowned. “He could have gotten Jack’s name from Yves, or by hacking into records. But the connection between Jack and Serenity seemed to take him by surprise. Do you think it’s significant?”
“I don’t know. It’s niggling at me, but I can’t explain why.”
“You know, one of our original assumptions was that he was looking for protection from person or persons unknown. What if he was working on the basis that you’d get your husband involved too? He could probably find out that Jack is ex-military.”
She met his gaze. “But if that was the case, and he suddenly came face to face with one of his own men, surely that would please him?”
“Unless seeing Jack there, while expecting to see someone else entirely.” Aiden narrowed his eyes and focused on the note at her fingertips. “What if someone told Yanni he could trust Jack O’Donnell, though he’d never actually met him? Your father, for instance. Then he discovers that Jack is—or was—Serenity. A covert agent who hates his guts.”
“Yes. He warned me that Jack was good at acting out a lie, pretending to be something other than he seems. That would fit. But I still don’t understand the significance.” Juli rubbed her eyes. There was something obvious she wasn’t seeing.
Aiden looked deep in thought. “Two possibilities spring to mind. One is that Yanni was seeking protection, and the question there is from whom. And would that now put us in danger?”
“What’s the second possibility?”
The look he gave her was grave. “What if he was looking for Jack, but not because he thought he could trust him? What if he wanted to get rid of him? We might be following Yanni into a trap.”
Chapter Sixteen
There was no way Maria could fall asleep. Fear and adrenaline pulsed through her in equal parts. At the very least, she had to get her phone back and her Taser. The boat rocked in a soothing motion. She lay staring at the wall and listened to Yanni’s breathing. It slowed, and became deep and regular. Was he asleep or faking?
Her muscles were clenched so tight they ached. It was a struggle, but she refused to give in to the trembling, crying, hysterical child that lurked beneath the skin.
A long-ago memory nudged at her. Aunt Rosa was the housekeeper of a wealthy businessman, and she took care of Maria after school, on the days her mother worked late.
While Maria played happily in the afternoon sunshine, the gardener had taken to following her. He taunted her. “Spic,” he called her.
At eight years old, she knew he was rude. She stood her ground at first. “Not a Spic,” she challenged right back. “I’m half-Brazilian.”
He backed her against the tool shed. He stood so close, she could smell the soil on his hands and the ammonia tang of sweat on his shirt. “Even better,” he whispered, his words flaying her skin like sandpaper. “Brazilian girls make the best whores.”
One stinking hand drew a dusty line down her face, slowly tracing the curve of her cheek, and his mouth approached, breathing clouds of garlic. Way too close.
“Please don’t hurt me.” Her legs shook, tears coursing down her face.
“If you don’t struggle, it doesn’t hurt so much.”
She didn’t know what he was talking about. She started hyperventilating, convinced she’d die at his hands.
Her memories drew the moment out for hours. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the rough surface of the tool shed pressing into her back. Hear the traffic on the other side of the trees and the birds singing above.
Someone called the man’s name and caught his attention. He leaned in close again, his calloused hand brushing down the front of her shirt. “I’ll come back for you another day,” he murmured. “This is our little secret, eh?”
At first, she couldn’t believe he was gone. She’d had her eyes squeezed tight shut, unable to bear looking at this disgusting, evil creature. His stink was all over her. It was the only thing she could smell. She was alone, running like the wind back to the house. The businessman’s teenaged son, Jordan, saw her agitation. She refused to say what upset her, but he spoke to the gardener, and for a few weeks, she was left alone.
It couldn’t last, so she got prepared. She badgered Rico to show her how to fight. At fifteen, her brother was lethal and street smart. She made him teach her how to defend herself. And she made a silent vow. She’d never allow herself to be vulnerable again. The next time the gardener caught up with her, he tried to drag her into his truck with the help of a friend, but she was ready for him. She wriggled free and ran away with little more than a few bruises and a torn skirt.
Rico was incensed when he found out. He dispensed his own justice, along with Jordan, and that was the last Maria saw of the gardener. She never found out what they did, but it worked.
That was years ago. Maria wouldn’t let anyone reduce her to being that weak again.
She stretched her arms and legs with slow, stealthy movements, and eased to a sitting position.
Yanni didn’t move. His breathing stayed even.
Maria tiptoed out to the deck, to the containers Yanni loaded onto the boat. They were the size of chiller boxes, but with sturdy padlocks in place. Locked. Damn. Her phone would be somewhere in there.
She could smash the lock. No. The noise would wake him. Did he leave the keys hanging up? Nope. The only place they could be was in his pocket.
Could she search him?
She moved on silent feet to his side. His body was relaxed. He was asleep.
Maria crept closer. She could do this. She would do this.
With one finger, she traced the outside pocket of his fleece top. He didn’t move. She didn’t dare to breathe.
There was something bulky inside the pocket. It made a lump beneath her fingertip. Her heart in her mouth, she dipped her fingers just inside the pocket, easing them in, and flexing like a butterfly wing.
“The keys are in my trousers.”
She froze. Caught glaringly red-handed, with her fingers inside his fleece. Fuck.
She tried to summon her voice. It refused to work. She retracted her hand and stepped back. What the fuck could she say? How could she bullshit her way out of this?
As she stood there, mouth opening
and closing, doing a passable imitation of a goldfish, Yanni sat up and grabbed both her wrists, his dark gaze boring into her.
So much for never feeling vulnerable again.
“What exactly are you looking for, Maria?”
If she wanted to, she could free herself from his grip. It was a simple manoeuvre—a hard shove back at the captor, to catch him by surprise—but she wanted Yanni to think her feeble. If he underestimated her, she might get another chance later. She waved her arms around a little, and tried to look weak and helpless.
He tugged her down to sit next to him on the bunk. “I need sleep, and you do too. Lie here with me.” He released her wrists and she made a show of rubbing them. “You were happy to sleep next to me in the back of the car,” he said.
“I’m not tired at the moment.”
He shrugged and lay down again. “No matter. You can sit on watch.”
She made her way up to the deck and huddled back onto the bench, to gaze at the sea. In the distance, pinpricks of light suggested she could see land, where they’d sailed from. Apart from that, it was sea all around. Black and endless.
Her choices were limited. Sailing back to the mainland was out. Making contact with her personal cavalry seemed equally impossible.
Yanni was right; it was the two of them. And that terrified her.
*
Juli’s suggestion about Yanni’s backup car hit the mark. When Jack and Tanner arrived at Maria’s abandoned car, the police were waiting to brief them, thanks to Aiden’s calls. Door-to-door enquiries threw up a lead right away. Teenage brothers living nearby had seen a black Mitsubishi Shogun 4x4 leaving one of the lock-up garages in the early hours. Even better, they’d seen the same vehicle arriving a couple weeks ago—and they had a partial registration. The plate included the letters BBJ, the name of a local sports outlet, which was why they remembered it. They’d wondered if the owner of the car also owned the chain of shops.
