Epilogue
The St. Regis
Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates
The premier hotel claimed unparalleled, quintessential luxury.
After less than five minutes on the property, Vanka mentally awarded the service and breakfast menu five stars.
Their tea selection alone had won her over, but it was the artistic display of immaculately fresh-cut fruit, centered on a black plate and set against the white table, that solidified her decision.
Beauty could blossom anywhere. “We should stay here next time.”
Spiker laughed and tipped his head toward the morning sun. “How often do you plan to swing by Abu Dhabi?”
“Ask me in an hour.”
He only smiled.
The waitstaff returned with their tea and coffee service, breakfast breads and jams, and fruit salad that lived up to her stolen glance.
Speaking of stolen glances, she checked the turtledove-colored Louis Vuitton Tote bag that rested next to her feet.
The articulated top handles leaned together like thick leather guards between the safely packaged Lacedaemonian Mask and the rest of the world.
Vanka had never kept possession of any work of art or historical artifact for this long before, and certainly hadn’t obtained any piece in the same unplanned, grab-and-go way.
She’d become quite fond of the mask, even the slightest bit sentimental.
If the mask hadn’t existed, Buck couldn’t have set their last assignment in motion.
Spiker would have gone on sabbatical, and she might still be working for GSI.
It had taken a domino chain of events for them to end up together, happily unemployed and in love.
Maybe they were not finished with the falling dominoes. Vanka spread fruit preserves over a thick slice of date bread. “Did you notice the new eyes on us?”
“Yup. Just now.” Casually, he tossed a grape into his mouth. “How many do you see?”
“Two. At your six and eleven. How about you?” She tried the bread, then held it out to him as though she hadn’t noticed the men watching them. “This is amazing. Would you like a bite?”
“I’m good. Thanks.” He took his time and sipped his coffee, covertly scouting the nearby tables. “You have two also. At your one and ten.”
Her gut instinct served as a litmus test, and while she couldn’t be one hundred percent positive, the two men she’d sighted weren’t on GSI’s payroll, ready to enact Buck’s revenge.
They were more like fit, swashbuckling do-gooders, stealth-trained to wreak havoc. “Think they’re a part of Titan Group?”
Spiker nodded. “Yup.”
Titan Group had previously hired a former colleague. “If we’re correct, I think Jason would fit in nicely, though I wonder…” She dabbed the linen napkin at her lips. “Should we be annoyed or take it as a compliment?”
He checked his watch. “Jason won’t be here for another thirty minutes. Ask me in an hour.”
The wait staff arrived with their omelets and asked about their meal. Spiker assured them that breakfast was delicious, and once the two were alone again, he picked up his fork. “Unless one of them makes an approach, I vote for eating over asking questions.”
The warm aroma of cheese and eggs couldn’t be ignored. She tabled Pandora’s box of possibilities and trusted the deal they’d made with Jason. “Good plan.”
Vanka glanced at her tote bag again, then tasted her eggs, ignoring the four men who had boxed their table in.
It was surprisingly easy to do. They continued eating as though this breakfast were an ordinary meal—as ordinary as it could be given the lavish circumstances—then paid the bill, and waited.
Jason Green and another man crossed the garden terrace. Vanka’s nerves jumped. The involvement of others wasn’t how she and Nan had facilitated past deliveries. She and Spiker stood, and though their greeting to Jason was professional, it was also amicable.
Jason introduced the other man. “This is Jared Westin.”
Jared Westin shook her hand and then Spiker’s. Vanka appreciated the order; it was her meeting, after all. But she’d also worked long enough in this industry to know it was very much a boys’ club.
“So you’re the man, the myth, the legend?” she said once they had been seated. Jared Westin looked younger than she would’ve expected. Though, she hadn’t put too much thought into it.
The corners of the man’s lips quirked. “All depends on who’s telling the story.”
“Fair enough.” Vanka glanced at Jason. “Mr. Westin is familiar with our situation and agreement?”
“It’s either Jared or Westin,” the man interrupted, “No mister.”
Jared Westin—she hadn’t decided which she would go with yet—was very different than Buck Baer. Vanka asked Jason, “What do you call him?”
Jason grinned. “Boss man.”
“Well, you’re no help.”
Jared “Boss Man” Westin almost laughed.
Given who he was and how angry-scary-threatening she could see he might be, she liked that he had a few chuckles in him. “Jared,” she decided, “Jason’s explained what we have and where it needs to go.”
Jared nodded. “No customs. No records. No information.”
She nodded at his simple, straightforward lack of bullshit. “Exactly.”
“Titan will escort the mask to Greece,” Jason said. “We’ve handpicked a contact to accept the delivery.”
“The Lacedaemonian Mask”—she eyed the men—“has been off the grid for years. It’s worth millions. If the wrong person gets their hands on it, it will disappear into the black market again.”
“It won’t,” Jared said. “You have my word.”
Vanka studied him. Jared Westin was to Titan Group as Buck Baer was to GSI.
She wouldn’t let Buck within a hundred meters of the mask, and didn’t have a lot of faith in someone’s offer of their word.
Yes, she trusted Jason, but only as much as she trusted anyone, except for Spiker and Nan.
They had trusted her decisions on the mask, which had led them to Titan.
Help was here, and she needed to rely on it.
Vanka nodded. She pointedly looked over Jared and Jason’s shoulders. “Who are they?”
“Jason’s backup,” Jared answered. “A four-person detail will escort him to one of our jets. Another four-person detail will assist with their arrival in Greece.”
Vanka glanced at Spiker and back to Jared. “That’s impressive manpower.”
“You said it yourself,” Jared said. “If it goes missing again, it’s gone for good.”
“Yes.” But it wasn’t as if she expected anyone to treat this as seriously as she had taken it. “But why do you care?”
“About the mask? To be honest, I don’t care as much as you.” The corner of Jared’s eyes narrowed. “Here’s the thing. You asked for an assist, and that’s what we’re going to do. Nothing half-assed about it. We take a job; we do the job.”
She didn’t have a single doubt when the man spoke. “Understood.” Vanka inhaled and prepared to hand over the mask. “Thank you.”
“Before you go.” Jared studied her as though he could read her inside and out. “I heard a story you might find interesting.”
Was that humor in his tone? Curiosity? Vanka couldn’t read him and didn’t like it. She waited.
“We have a guy that’s hell on wheels when it comes to computers.” Jared’s lips twitched. “Pretty good at finding that proverbial needle in a haystack.”
“That must be handy,” she said.
“Just for fun, he scoured the internet and created an itemized list of thefts reported by museums.”
Her stomach bottomed out.
“Sounds like a fun guy,” Spiker interrupted. “I hate to cut things short, but we need to head out—”
“Just another minute,” Jared said, and continued, “He separated each item into one of three groups: still missing, insurance return, and anonymous return.”
Vanka kept her expression nonchalant, but couldn’t stop the blood rushing in her ears.
“I learned something new,” Jared said. “Most pieces were stolen to trigger the insured’s ransom clauses. Museums pay big money to get their goods back.”
“Learn something new every day.” Vanka reached for the tote.
He ignored her effort to leave, and his scrutiny intensified.
“Anonymous returns are a rarity. Items valued at hundreds of millions of dollars, things that haven’t been seen for decades—” Jared snapped.
“Suddenly, they are returned to their rightful owners as if some world history defender swept in to make everything right.”
Vanka waited for whatever Jared would say next. She wasn’t sure what her reply might be, but he said absolutely nothing. The table was so quiet she could hear her heartbeat.
“People confuse what they believe is a righteous action and what they think is the right thing.” Jared leaned back in his chair and made clear he wanted a response.
“That would make excellent advice in a fortune cookie.”
He snickered, then cracked his knuckles. “The world needs more people like you.”
He hadn’t asked; she hadn’t explained. Vanka expected to feel violated.
Her family secret had been aired over the breakfast table.
But she didn’t. The men let the silence continue like an unspoken compliment.
Vanka thought about her parents and knew that they would be proud.
She lifted the tote and slid it across the table.
“Thank you for taking care of this for me.”
Jared nodded.
Jason took the bag.
“Last thing,” Jared said. “I hear you two are a package deal. If you’re interested in continuing your family’s legacy or just a little something to keep you on your toes, say the word.”
Vanka smiled. “We’ll let you know.”
Jared and Jason stood. The men stationed in the restaurant did as well.
They said goodbye, and after one last glance at the tote, she was ready to leave.
Hand in hand, she and Spiker left the garden terrace and disappeared into the foot traffic along Abu Dhabi’s Corniche.
The morning sun promised a glorious day to pick their way through the walking trail and gardens.
“It’s been an hour,” he said. “I’d take the backup team as a compliment.”
“I think so,” she agreed, and wondered aloud, “How often do you want to swing by Abu Dhabi?”
“That’s your question to answer, princess.”
Not really. She wouldn’t agree to it unless he was on board. Either way, she wanted time to spend with Spiker. No jobs. No covers. Just them. “What if I don’t want to answer that right now?”
“I’d say good.”
“Why?”
“We all have things to learn. Yours might be saying no.”
“But before you do that…” He led her to a shaded spot under a garden canopy. “Here’s another question to figure out.” Spiker grinned brighter than the diamond that appeared in his hand. He dropped onto one knee. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”