Chapter 6
THEO
Halfway between George Zervas's territory and ours sits a little taverna.
It's half-empty when I arrive. A few fishermen drink coffee at one table.
A couple of old men play backgammon at another.
Tourists don't come out this far. It's all locals and lifers—the kind of place where nobody sees anything unless you make them.
Even though there's no such thing as "neutral grounds," as I was reminded during the whole Ares and Katerina fiasco, it's where George and I agreed to meet.
I order a coffee and take a seat facing the door.
When it arrives, I take a sip and sigh. The smart thing would be to keep my mind sharp, focused.
I should be thinking about the banking trail, the shell companies, the cash moving through Athens Central Bank like a goddamn river no one seems able—or willing—to stop.
Instead, I'm thinking about Stassi. In my house. Sleeping in the bed meant for guests, though I wouldn't even call her that.
And it actually pisses me off.
I survived this world by staying two steps ahead. Distractions get you killed.
And Stassi Milonakis? She's nothing but a fucking distraction.
Granted, a beautiful, dangerous one, but still—she's come back at the worst possible time.
Would there have ever been a good time?
I shake my head.
Since I laid eyes on her, there's been this cold and vicious feeling in my chest. From the moment she left, I've wondered where she went.
Why she vanished. Over the course of four years, I buried the pain beneath layers of work, control, and too many one-night stands—searching for meaning in a meaningless situation.
And just when I think I've gotten my head above water, internally, because tracking down my father's killer is proving to be a shit show, she comes waltzing back into my life.
I've got too much on my plate. I don't also need the woman who shattered my world suddenly needing me.
I take a few deep breaths to steady myself as I feel anger and mixed emotions rising.
Fuck, how can this be happening?
I should have just let her run off. Ignored the note. Driven away. Let her suffer whatever problems she has.
Even as the thought forms, I know it's a lie. Despite everything—despite the rage and betrayal burning through me—I can't walk away. Not from her. Not when she looked at me with those eyes full of genuine fear.
But I can't let that matter, because I don't matter to her. So I need to find out where she's been. Then I'll decide whether to help her or destroy her.
Suddenly, the door swings open, and in walks George Zervas. Old instinct tightens my muscles, readying for a fight that isn't coming. Not today, anyway. We're allies, for now.
He spots me, nods once, and walks over. No bodyguards. Just like we agreed.
"Theo," he says, offering a handshake. "Good to see you."
"Zervas." I gesture to my coffee. "Want something?"
He turns to the waiter. "Ouzo with two ice cubes."
"Right to it, huh?" I ask.
"Well," he says, looking around, "when you get to be my age, coffee after noon keeps you up all night."
His drink comes, and he takes a slow sip. "I looked into the banking situation, like you asked," he says, placing his glass down.
"And?"
"Your banker friend was right. The accounts are untouchable. Whoever's behind it isn't stupid. They know how to layer their money, launder it clean."
I shake my head. "That's the thing. I've never run into accounts like this. Something's not right."
He clears his throat. "Agreed. What have you found about the Athenian Warriors after talking to you-know-who?"
I take a sip of coffee. "Nothing. Gave me a lawyer's name. I'm currently looking into it."
"What's his name?"
"Uhh, Chris Xanos."
"Doesn't ring a bell," he says and takes a sip of his drink. "One thing's for certain—taking out Stavros, me, and your family? No single family could pull off this level of financing on their own. It's too much."
I lean back slightly, fingers tapping the table. "You think it's a coalition or something else?"
"Maybe. But since the accounts the money is coming from are restricted and we can't get to them, I'm thinking someone tied to government—and that's got me worried."
I lean forward. "Why?"
He leans in as well. "Look, Athens is full of men who owe favors and trade blood for votes.
Additionally, those same men are paid to turn their eyes from the things I do.
Your family does. If that is tampered with, God forbid, lost, we're all in deep shit," he says and leans back.
"We'll spend the rest of our lives rotting in a cell. "
I look at him, contemplating his words. Is it advice, or is he trying to throw me off the trail? Damn, I wish that letter from my father never came into existence. It was easier when we didn't trust him.
"I also wanted to discuss something else," he says and sips his cloudy ouzo. "The port in Nafplio."
My eyes narrow. "What about it?"
"Now that things are clearer between us, I think it's time I return what was your father's."
"Why now? Why all of a sudden?" I ask.
He sets down his drink. "Honestly? Because there's clearly some game going on, and I don't like being a piece on someone else's board."
Fair enough. Self-interest is the most believable motive.
"But what about the letter?" I ask.
"I think your family can handle it now. And more importantly, it'll hopefully solidify our friendship—so call it a gesture of good faith if you'd like," he says and looks me directly in the eyes.
"Your family has always been reasonable to work with.
Your father understood boundaries. The old ways.
Respect. I think I've done my part. Now I want to focus on dealing with what's coming," he says and downs the rest of his ouzo, "because something is coming. "
I nod slowly. "I'll discuss the logistics with my brother, Ares. We'll find a way to make the transition smooth."
"I'm sure you will," Zervas says, moving his glass to the side. "We'll be in contact. Let me know if you learn anything from the lawyer, and I'll see if I can get access to those secure accounts."
I stand to shake his hand. "Sounds good."
George goes to turn and then stops. "Theo, whoever's behind this—it's something that's been in motion for some time.
These deposits started small almost two years ago, then escalated.
That's not impulse. That's cultivation. It seems like maybe your father was onto something. Hopefully, we can pick up the trail."
I nod. "That's my sole goal while I'm here."
"I'll be in touch," he says, and then he's gone, slipping out the door as quietly as he arrived.
I sit back down, turning my coffee cup slowly as I think about everything. But instead of focusing on what's in front of me, on what I'm working on, my thoughts keep slipping back to her.
I take my phone out and open up my texts to Ares. It's morning back in Chicago.
I text my brother.
You up?
I slide my phone on the table and wait for a response. Five minutes later, my phone buzzes.
Yes. Any updates?
I want to tell him who just dropped back into my life, but I know that will instantly make him think things, and I don't need anyone worrying about me.
Nothing major yet. Z is giving back port. Need to know how to proceed
You're my right hand. You're there. I'll trust you to do it
I'm more interested in why
I'll fill you in later
If you buy it, then okay. Call me tomorrow morning your time with update. Take care, brother
I put my phone back in my coat pocket, finish my coffee, and head out to my car.
I run some errands around Kalamata. Check in on some things. And when I pull into my driveway, it's a little after 9 p.m.
I sit in the car for a moment and look at the light shining in the east wing window—her bedroom.
Is she awake? What is she thinking? Is she planning her next disappearing act?
The questions gnaw at me as I get out and enter through the side door. The house is quiet. Elena left dinner in the warming oven, but I ignore it, heading straight for the study.
I pour two fingers of whiskey and slump into an oversized chair. I loosen my tie as I take a sip.
Some time goes by, and I know I should go to bed. But I don't move. Instead, I sit there, thinking about nothing and everything—until I hear the creak of floorboards behind me. Instincts have me grip the butt of my gun and spin around.
And I see her. She's standing there, silhouetted against the hallway light. Her hair is damp from a shower, and she's wearing clothes Elena must have found for her—loose gray pants and a faded blue T-shirt that's too big. She looks… no, I won't think about how she looks.
"I forgot you were here," I say, lying, as I turn back around—hoping she'll both go away and stay at the same time.
Fuck, I hate that feeling.
Because it means she's still under my skin.
And if she stays here much longer, I won't be able to let her go a second time.