Chapter 15
Ionian Sea
A distant scraping lured Dillon from a deep sleep. Vision blurry, he struggled to get his bearings. The world felt…odd. Off, like it was…moving. He jerked upright, his location coming into sharp focus. The speed cruiser. Daylight.
Holy fire, had he really slept all night?
His gaze tracked the saloon, helm—she wasn’t there. A shink yanked his attention to the galley. Cove stood with her back to him, preparing something. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Buongiorno.”
He pushed to his feet and crossed to join her. “Why’d you let me sleep all night?”
Cutting Signora Barbieri’s bread, she kept working. Smeared jam on the bread. “You needed it. You let me sleep the night before.”
“But you need rest too.”
“I will—tonight when we are in Mykonos.” She held up a slice of jam-slathered bread. “Here. Breakfast.”
Irritated that she’d let him sleep, that he’d been a slacker and left her to stand watch all night… “You should’ve woken me.”
“Va bene,” she said, lifting a shoulder, then folded a piece of bread in her mouth.
“It’s not fair.” He felt wrecked, despite sleeping.
She, on the other hand, looked amazing with her tussled hair and the morning sun glowing softly against her golden skin. She chewed, wiped the corner of her mouth, then smiled mischievously at him. “I might have dozed a time or two.”
“What?”
“For a little while,” she said with a small shrug. “Not long. I was sitting there watching the moon on the water, but then I jolted awake.”
“You realize—”
“Dillon.” She set her hands on his chest and leaned in for emphasis. “Nothing happened. We are okay.”
Heart thundering at their close proximity, the warmth of her hands seeping through the polo shirt, he faltered, mouth suddenly dry.
“You worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough.” As annoyed as he was over her not waking him, over her falling asleep too, he knew they were both exhausted from the last thirty hours.
“So, we make a good pair.” Her eyes widened. “I…”
Fire in his gut told him to kiss the dot of jelly from her lower lip. And common sense would smack him all the way back to the States.
“I did not mean…you know.”
He needed to step off before he did something stupid.
The ship swelled upward.
They braced themselves using the counter as an anchor. The Ilaria canted. Pitched Cove into him. He caught her, too aware of the curve of her hip and waist as he steadied her.
She laughed when the ship rose again, pulled her away then urged her back to him.
Good night, she was amazing and beautiful. He loved when she laughed. But then…he sobered. And so did she. Her gaze dipped, depriving him of those gold orbs, glittering beneath the glow of the rising sun. Desperate to see her eyes again, he hooked a finger below her chin.
Those full, pink lips parted and he felt her stiffen.
Dillon decided to take the kiss, homed in. No more missed opp—
The Ilaria dove sharp, slamming her face toward his.
Pain exploded across his mouth. He tasted blood. Even as she yelped in pain, Dillon jerked back, holding on to the counter, heel of his hand to his busted lip, the swelling almost immediate.
Serves you right, idiot.
She cupped a hand over her forehead where it’d connected with his jaw, brows tangled in concern. “Mi dispiace tanto!” Looking mortified, she grabbed a napkin and thrust it at him. “Are you okay?”
He bent toward the sink and flipped it on. Ran the water and rinsed his mouth. Son of a buttered biscuit. Man, he was a piece of work. Gave her his name, let her keep the phone, slept all night while on watch, and now this.
I’m going to get us killed.
Then he’d never find his dad. He had to get his head in the game, or everyone he cared about would pay. Napkin to his lip, he turned himself back to the sofa and sat down, noting the waves had miraculously calmed down. Guess even God was trying to tell him to get in line.
“I am so sorry, Dillon,” Cove said, coming over to him. She winced. “I, uh—we do not have ice or an ice pack in the kit.” Worry creased those beautiful eyes. “I am sorry. Is it bad…?”
Yeah. It was bad. He was bad. “I’m fine.” He was the one who should be apologizing. But he couldn’t even bring himself to admit what he’d just attempted.
Only then did he realize she’d gone quiet. Staring at the deck. She covered her mouth, and in his periphery, he saw tears slipping free.
Dillon set a hand to her leg before he could stop himself. “Hey, it’s not worth the tears.” I’m not worth the tears. “We’ve had a long couple days. It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. Not if he didn’t correct course fast.
Sniffling, she wiped her face and sat back against the seat. “It is all hitting me.”
He nodded, understanding. “It’s a lot…”
“I do not know how you have done this for two and a half years.” She scoffed. “I would have lost my head—I am losing my head.” She wilted and rubbed her forehead. “It has only been two days since they took Papà, and already, I fear I will be too late.”
Able to appreciate that sentiment, Dillon sat back. “You can’t think like that,” he said, feeling the pinch of pain at his lip from speaking. The throb and thickness made him not want to talk much. “It’s self-defeating.”
“I just keep seeing him fall on the grass, them dragging him…”
“Focus on the men who dragged him away. Take that fear and funnel it into determination and a bit of anger to drive you to the end.” He eased forward and swiveled to face her.
“After the funeral for my dad, that’s what I had to do.
I was going ape, sitting around listening to Mom and my sister cry. ”
“You have a sister?”
He faltered, surprised at himself for giving that away.
Normally didn’t talk about family. But she was safe, right?
“Yeah, and a brother. Anyway—you take those things that seek to paralyze you and turn them into fuel to drive you to the answers you’re after.
How you respond is completely in your hands.
Choose to make it work for you rather than control you. ”
She gave him a smile, drew her feet up onto the seat, and slouched into them. “I have a lot to learn from you.”
Heart thudding, Dillon realized nobody had ever said that to him.
He had always been the one learning. But that…
that’s what he’d wanted from his dad. Always yearned to hear.
Yet…it worried him, for her to learn anything from him.
He hadn’t found his dad, and it’d been nearly three years.
“Not sure that’s a good thing. I’m just winging my way through this. ”
She chewed her lower lip. “How did you make the connection between our fathers?”
“Dad was the leader of his team,” he said quietly, remembering back to that time.
“His death rocked our worlds. One of my Scion brothers, Helios, and I overheard a couple dads talking, saying it felt unrealistic. They had doubts, but there wasn’t anything actionable.
So Helios has a knack for white-hat hacking, and he started digging.
He spent—I don’t know how many hours trolling every site and social media platform for any sign of my dad. ”
“Social media?” she balked. “Did he think your dad would post something?”
“Nah, but everyone has a phone camera these days, and Helios knows how to exploit that. Terrorists love to tout victories. Most people have zero security on their phone and have tracking turned on. They don’t even know that a photo is geotagged to the exact location it was taken.
You’d be surprised how many people are completely unaware that exists.
Or they think it’s great to drop a friend a pin for a meet-up or if your phone gets lost. But it’s a op-sec nightmare if someone wants to hunt you down.
One forgotten setting leaves a wide-open door. ”
“And where were our dads together?”
“From what I’ve been able to discern from the image, Yemen.”
Her lips parted. “No wonder you gave me that look when I talked about Yemen.”
He had? “Shortly after Paris, a picture surfaced that showed my dad looking pretty messed up, walking into a luxury resort in Tanzania.”
“What was he doing there?”
“That is the question,” he said with a heaving breath. “By the time I got down there, nobody who worked back then was still on staff. They reviewed the footage with me—my dad goes down a rear hall with a manager, but he’s never seen again.”
“So, if he was there, then why do you say my papà was the last person to see him alive? I mean, logically, the picture of them was taken before the resort, yes?”
“Yeah, clearly—the picture was in Yemen, the resort in Tanzania. Footage shows my dad wearing the same clothes he had on in that picture with your dad.”
Brow furrowed, she fell silent.
“By the time my dad made it to the resort, he also had a black eye and cuts on his face. Those clothes that were fine with your dad were then torn and dirty. He looked like he’d had a fight with a lawnmower.”
She lowered her feet and shifted to the edge of the seat, hugging herself. “And this was…how long ago?”
“Almost three years ago.”
Cove paled. She stood and paced the small saloon/galley area. “Do you think that night with Enzo…?” Blinking, she shook her head. “But I…I was with my papà in Yemen on that trip. And I knew everyone he met.”
His heart jarred. “So, you’re saying I’m lying?” A trickle of anger spilled into his veins, bringing him to his feet to meet the challenge.
“No!” She sliced a hand in his direction, coming up short when she realized he stood before her. “It is only…I was there, Dillon. Papà and I went to every meeting together because he was teaching me the business.”
Yet she wasn’t in the photo… Dillon frowned, recalling something. “Didn’t you mention that you left the hotel to follow this Enzo guy?”
She drew up a bit and her lips parted. “I did…”
“Could your dad have met with mine while you were gone?”
“I suppose…” Her bright eyes flicked to his. “That was clearly a busy night with all that happened.”
“Wait—night?”
She faltered. “It was after a dinner.”
Hope collapsed. “That photo of our dads wasn’t taken at night.”
“And you are sure it was Yemen.”
“Wasn’t until I went down to check things out. Can’t tell exactly where they were, because of fencing, but I could see structures in the background.”
“Okay,” she said quietly, pacing and thinking. “I really wish I could see this picture.”
“Once I can get on a secure computer, I’ll show you.”
“Good. What else was in the picture?”
He leaned back against the galley counter.
“They were standing about a dozen paces from a silver SUV—I matched the model to a 2023 Lexus.” Mentally, he stared at the photo.
“My dad was closer to the person who took the photo—that was one Helios tracked down. Guy was a dockworker, but he’s dead now, so I can’t ask him about what he saw and photographed.
Your dad was farther away, in profile with his head down.
Took me nearly a year to identify him—and I only made the connection because I was in Armenia tailing a Russian said to be linked to that dock in Yemen. ”
“Armenia?” she balked. “Santo cielo, how many countries have you searched?”
“Too many.”
A big yawn stole her breath, quelling the conversation for a moment. “I still think—” Another yawn interrupted her.
Why hadn’t he thought to tell her to rest before now? “Hey, we have hours still—why don’t you get some sleep?”
“But you do not know how to drive the cruiser.”
“You said the cruiser was on assist, right?”
Cove glanced to the helm, considering the offer. “Yes…”
“And that’s sort of like autopilot?”
She smiled. “After a fashion.”
“Then go—sleep. If anything funky happens, I’ll wake you.”