Chapter Eight
Ky swerved around the narrow bend in the road, barely missed grazing a low-slung tree branch, and bit back the curse dancing on his lips. Next to him, Gemma consulted a map using a flashlight.
How Ky got talked into this crazy scheme, he couldn’t begin to understand. But here he was, in the dead of night, driving a beat-up, ready-for-the-crusher two-door sedan that should have been junked ten years ago, up a mountain thoroughfare that barely qualified as a road and not a rut.
“It looks like we make the next right turn,” Gemma said, pulling the map closer to her eyes. “Another quarter mile or so. There’s a marking on the right side of the trail that’ll read: Gossamer Way.”
A thoroughly stupid name for a road in the middle of nowhere. “How far is the cabin from the turnoff?”
“About a mile,” she said. “Give or take.”
Ky shook his head. So far, as a human GPS, Gemma was doing a fair job—they hadn’t gotten lost yet, but he would have preferred an actual navigational system. They couldn’t take a chance on using anything that could be electronically tracked, though.
“The text says it’s the only place for ten miles in any direction, so we should be safe enough for the moment.”
For the moment was the operative phrase, he told himself.
After speaking with Theo for over an hour and still having no idea what he was going to do, Gemma had the idea to contact her brother-in-law and ask for help, since, as she put it, “he was the best at what he did and would know what to do.” Ky’s pride had been wounded, the not-so-veiled implication being that he didn’t. At first he’d nixed the idea, but Gemma had argued her case astutely, telling him that Josh was used to subterfuge and even if Ritandi’s men had him and his business under surveillance because of his connection to her, Josh was an expert and knew how to help them without being seen to do so. The pride and love she felt for the man rang through her voice, once again shooting his ego down.
Gemma trusted her brother-in-law implicitly with her life; that was a fact. It was obvious she didn’t afford him the same assurance.
Ky had given in to her request and so far her confidence in Keane had proven sound.
Through an untraceable cell Theo had provided, Ky had contacted Keane on what Gemma called his bat phone—a cell no one but those closest to Josh had access to—and had been able to relay what had occurred during the past day.
Several back-and-forth calls later from various phones, and Keane had arranged for them to pick up the barely alive car they were currently in from a friend who, Josh told them, owed him a favor. Under the front seat they’d found an envelope with more than three thousand dollars in small bills with a note that read “For gas and sundries,” and two bags of groceries in the trunk.
When Ky met up with the private investigator again, he was determined to find out what the favor had been.
They were on their way to a cabin in northern Pennsylvania that belonged to Josh’s partner, Rick Bannerman. Josh had texted them the access codes to the cabin’s security system, telling them not to worry, the name on the deed wasn’t Rick’s and couldn’t be connected back to him.
That was the single reason Ky had consented to driving them out of state. No matter how deep the moles who worked for Ritandi dug, they shouldn’t be able to locate the two of them. Theo had provided several disposable burner phones, in addition to a laptop he guaranteed Ky was “invisible.” To Gemma, Theo explained it meant no one would be able to zero in on their location when they used it.
If this panned out and he was able to keep Gemma safe, and get back on track with trying to locate Ritandi, Ky knew he owed Gemma’s brother-in-law big time.
“There’s the marker.” Gemma pointed through the windshield.
He turned the car down an unlit, unpaved road, riddled with potholes and channels. He was forced to keep their speed down to a little above a crawl just to ensure the chassis wouldn’t fall off before they reached their destination.
“At least we’ll know if anyone approaches the cabin.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“They’ll need ATVs or loud heavy machinery to get safely down this poor excuse for a road.”
When she didn’t reply, he took his gaze from the dead-of-dark view in front of them and snuck a glance at her. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the ghost of a grin pulled at her mouth.
She had to be beyond exhausted. He knew he was. The punch of adrenaline had run through both of them once they’d made it safely from Theo’s apartment to the arranged pick-up place for the car. They hadn’t stopped to eat, wanting to put as much distance between themselves and any more of Ritandi’s men as they could, opting to share a bag of potato chips and a liter of water they bought at a rest stop along the highway when they’d gassed up.
Tomorrow, he promised himself, he’d make her the French toast she’d missed—God, was it only this morning? It felt like days since they’d fled the safe house.
“I can see it up ahead,” he told her. The bright headlights cut through the inky darkness to outline a small, rectangular structure.
He pulled the car right up to the front of the cabin and stopped. When he didn’t shut the engine, Gemma turned to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just want to get a look at it before we go in.”
Gemma glanced out the front windshield and then turned to the passenger side window. “I can’t see a thing in all this dark, but dark.” She opened the door and slid her legs out.
Ky was in the process of reaching around to the back seat where she’d tossed the flashlight before he could stop her from exiting the car. A sudden, brilliant burst of light exploded from the front porch.
“Motion detector lights. Rick thinks of everything.” Gemma jogged up the porch steps, punched in the alarm code they’d been left and opened the door.
Damn it. Did the woman not realize even after all that had happened, she was still in danger?
“Wait!” he called, bolting from the car, but she’d already gone into the cabin.
Ky sprinted up the porch steps after her, his gun poised.
“It’s bigger than it looks like from the outside,” he heard her say. “Why do you have your gun out?” she asked, her brows pulled up under her bangs when she turned toward him.
“Because you can’t just sprint ahead of me into a place I haven’t made sure is secure.” He cursed and moved right up into her face, unable to leash his anger. “You have no idea if anyone is in here and you barge into the house without any regard for your safety or the consequences. That’s just stupid and careless.”
He realized he was yelling when her back went ramrod straight and her eyes darkened. “Don’t you dare call me stupid—”
He cut her off with a swipe of his hand. “Then don’t act without thinking. Running into a building without checking it out first is a stupid move. We’ve already been ambushed twice today. I’m not in the mood to be blindsided again.”
If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under just from the deadly heat in her squinting gaze. In the next instant, her eyes went wide and the lips scowling at him turned pale.
He’d forced her to remember the details of their day. A small amount of guilt at bringing the fear back to her shot through him, but with it, resolve, because he was right to call her on her reckless behavior.
“Look.” He pulled down deep for calm. “I know you thought this place was fine because it’s your friend’s house. I get that. But you need to let me do my job, which is keeping you safe. You had no idea if this place was empty, you just presumed it was because you were told it would be. I can’t think that way. I have to assume and prepare for every potential threat, and running into an empty house without first making sure it is, in fact unoccupied, is one of those potential threats.”
She swallowed, the movement of her long throat making the motion almost erotic.
“Do you understand?”
“Y-yes. I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I…I’m just…sorry.”
He gentled his voice even more, hating the fear now glazing over her face. “I understand this is all confusing and unfamiliar to you, and if there were any way I could turn back time to before you ever saw Calafano walking down that street, believe me, I would. But I can’t. You’re in danger and I need to ensure that nothing happens to you. I can’t do that if you don’t listen to me and let me lead you through all this. Okay?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait. I never even thought to.”
It was Ky’s turn to nod. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
He knew what the apology cost her, so he felt giving his own would even things between them. He was happy to see some of her color returning. “Let me take a quick look around and then we can bring in our gear. Okay?”
It was Gemma’s turn to nod.
“Just stay here.” The front door opened into a wide, wall-to-wall living area. Ky’s eyes swept the room. A stone fireplace took up space to the left, an L-shaped sofa and chairs in front of it. A remodeled kitchen and breakfast bar was at the opposite side of the room, three closed doors along a hallway beside it, and an open staircase leading to a second floor. While Gemma stood in the center of the room, Ky took a quick tour of the upstairs.
“From the outside this place looks like just one story,” he said when he came back to her.
When he was satisfied the house was truly empty except for the two of them, they brought in everything from the car without a word. He hoped Gemma’s silence meant she was considering what he’d told her and accepting how serious the situation was for them.
They were in a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere with no Agency backup, no one except her brother-in-law and his partner knew where they were, and he had no weapons except for his Glock to protect them.
He’d never felt so powerless and unprepared in his life.
Gemma placed the bags of food on the kitchen counter and then opened the closed doors off the hallway.
“Small bathroom, pantry,” he said, following behind as she peeked inside each, “and bedroom.”
She opened the door fully and stepped inside. “Lucy and Ricky beds.”
“What?”
He came into the room with her.
Two dressers, two twin-size beds, and a small closet were the only furnishings. The beds were made; colorful Americana quilts atop them.
She turned around to him, a look of confusion sliding across her face. “Lucy and Ricky?” she said. When he didn’t answer, she added, “The Ricardos? The television show? No?”
Ky dropped his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. We didn’t watch a lot of TV in my house.”
“But you have to know about I Love Lucy.” Her eyes actually widened. “The whole planet knows who she is.”
Ky shook his head and again said, “Sorry.”
Her mouth closed into a thin line of what he assumed was disgust.
“Who doesn’t know Lucy Ricardo?” she muttered, as she shook her head, went past him, and out of the room.
He knew he’d gone down another notch in her esteem. Ky pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, squeezed once, and then followed her from the room.
“The two bedrooms up here have a connecting bathroom,” she called from above him. When he looked up she was leaning against the stair rail.
“Do they have, what did you call them? Ricardo beds, too?”
For the first time in hours, she smiled. It was as if the sun had decided to come out in the dead of night. She came down the stairs, her smile still in place. “Lucy and Ricky beds, and no. These are kings, not twins.”
Ky nodded, pushing the thought from his mind of what she would look like spread across a king-sized bed, naked and waiting for him.
“Okay.” He prayed his voice didn’t betray his thoughts. Thoughts he had no call letting slip into his conscious mind. “It’s late. Why don’t you get to bed? I’m sure you’re tired.”
“That doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
He could read the fatigue in the small purple smudges under her eyes. They’d both been awake for over eighteen hours.
“I’ll bunk down here and we can unpack everything and get the lay of the land in the morning.”
“You’re gonna stay down here?”
“Yeah.”
She cocked her head at him. “I don’t mind if you want to be upstairs. The beds are bigger. They might be more comfortable than the twins.”
“True, but from a defensive viewpoint, staying down here makes more sense.”
For a moment he thought she might argue with him. There was a question in her eyes he couldn’t fathom.
Instead, she grabbed one of the overnight bags Josh’s friend had put together for them, since they’d fled the safe house with nothing, and with a shrug, said, “’K.”
“I’ll make sure everything is locked up and secure,” he said to her retreating back.
“No surprise there,” she muttered as she went up the stairs.
* * *
She’d tried to ignore the rumbling and churning noises coming from her empty stomach for the past hour, hoping they would quiet and let her get back to sleep, but they’d hung on like a feasting leech. In fact, she was hungrier now than she thought she’d ever been before. The chips she and Ky had shoveled in during the drive had quieted her hunger for a while, but now, like a caged beast roaring for escape, it blasted through the silence in the room, demanding relief. Other than those chips, she’d had nothing to eat all day, since she’d been robbed of her breakfast by the gunmen.
Good Lord! How much had happened in a single day. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have thought she’d be stuck on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, miles from civilization, rooming with an armed man sworn to protect her.
The bedside digital clock told her it was three a.m. Too early for breakfast, but she’d never get back to sleep if she didn’t do something to squash the hunger blasting through her.
Gemma slipped from under the covers, thankful she’d donned socks before climbing into bed because she knew the wooden floor would be cold at this time of night. The cabin was deep into the woods, more than half way up a mountainside, and even though it was summer, the night air chilled without the sun’s heat. Wearing only a thin T-shirt and boy-shorts she’d found in the suitcase, Gemma wrapped her arms around herself and went on a mission for something to ease her demanding stomach.
Thankfully, the floors didn’t creak as she crept from the room, out to the landing, and down the stairs.
The light under the kitchen range was on so she was able to navigate around the living room and into the kitchen without knocking into any of the furniture.
She hadn’t unpacked the nonperishables before she’d gone to bed, knowing nothing needed refrigeration, but the counter was free now of the bags they’d brought in from the car.
Ky must have put them away before heading to bed.
Gemma said a silent curse because now she had to hunt through the cabinets as quietly as she could so she wouldn’t wake him. His bedroom door was cracked halfway open and any noise might disturb her sleeping special agent. Something she most definitely did not want to do.
With care she opened one cabinet, found it empty and moved on to the next. At the third she found success. She grabbed the first thing she could reach—a box of crackers. That would get her to breakfast, for sure. She opened the refrigerator, hoping he’d put the case of bottled water they’d brought in it to chill. The fridge looked as new as the rest of the appliances, and when she pulled the door handle to open it, a loud sucking noise barked into the air.
Gemma turned to stone, the door handle glued to her hand. She listened for a few moments, heard nothing but silence come back to her, then peeked into the fridge.
The water bottles were aligned in perfect precision on the top shelf, the rest of the unit empty.
She bent in and just as her hand clasped around a bottle, the silence was split by a loud, “Freeze!”
Gemma gasped, dropped the crackers and the full water bottle, which landed with a thud on her instep, and jumped back, banging her hip against the sink’s ledge.
“Christ on the cross!” She grabbed her foot, tears springing into her eyes as she leaned back for support, and glared across the kitchen at Ky. “Give a girl a heart attack, why don’t you?”
Poised in a shooting stance, his Glock pointed straight at her head, all sentient thought flew from her mind the moment her gaze cleared and connected with him. Clad in black boxers—and nothing else—he simply took her breath away.
Who knew that under the stiff, polite, and contained exterior was the body of a true Greek God? There was no other description for him.
A chest as finely chiseled and sculpted as any carved statue she’d ever seen, every muscle was covered with perfect, smooth, and sun-kissed golden skin. His nipples were two darkened discs perfectly aligned in the center of a pair of pumped and defined pecs. He gave a whole new definition to the term “eight pack” as each groove and trench of his abdominal muscles was pulled tight where he stood, his waist slim and sleek. Thick, powerful thighs jutted down from the snug-fitting boxers into calves that were both muscular and lithe.
There wasn’t a visible inch or ounce of extra flesh on his entire body. Every bit of skin she could see—and it was a lot!—was simply perfect. A thin gold chain hung around his neck, a small pendant dangling from it.
He exuded strength and raw power from every pore, and in that moment, Gemma forgot about her injured foot. She felt her insides quiver while she grew, unexpectedly, wet with desire for this man.
“What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.” He lowered his gun to his side and came toward her.
The harsh tone in his voice had the hairs at her neck springing to attention, despite the growing moisture between her thighs just watching him walk produced.
Dear Lord, the man really did move like a panther; sleek and silent, determined and focused.
“Getting something to eat,” she snapped. “I’m starving. And I know what time it is, which is why I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you.”
Ky bent and retrieved the water and cracker box from where she’d dropped them. Her eyes raked over the corded muscles in his back—his broad, hunky, naked back. The sinewy ripple of his shoulders and arms as he placed the items on the counter next to her had her biting down on her bottom lip so the moan breaking within her would be silenced.
He stood right in front of her; so close, in fact, she could reach out and run her tongue along his poured-from-concrete jawline. Gemma blinked hard when the notion hit her to do just that.
Ky reached out and touched her foot. She was still holding it up, one hand around the ankle, the other kneading the spot where the bottle had thudded. He rubbed his fingers over hers. “I’m sorry I scared you. I heard a noise. Thought you were an intruder.”
“You must have hearing like a bat.”
A tiny grin pulled at one corner of his mouth. “I’m a light sleeper. Consequence of the job.”
He hadn’t stopped rubbing her foot and the rhythm from his soft touch was hypnotic.
And wickedly arousing.
“Does it hurt?”
She shook her head. “Not so much anymore.”
Ky removed his hand and took a step back. He glanced over at the cracker box and asked, “Want something more substantial than just those?”
Gemma cocked her head. “Like you just told me, it’s the middle of the night. I wasn’t planning on anything more substantial. Just something to tide me over until breakfast.”
“Yeah, but you’re hungry, so it really doesn’t matter what time it is. Neither one of us ate anything of significance yesterday. Want me to fix something?” He set the safety on the gun, placed it down on the counter, then turned on the overhead light from the wall switch. The sudden harsh light had her squinting.
He opened the pantry door. “We’ve got some essentials. There’s bread, a jar of peanut butter and some jam. Looks homemade. Want a sandwich?”
“Homemade? Let me see.”
He handed her the jar and her stomach growled when she recognized the label.
Ky’s low laugh was fast and sounded, God help her, panty-dropping sexy. “You really are hungry.”
“I wouldn’t be sneaking around at this hour if I wasn’t.”
Ky reached into a cabinet and pulled down two plates. The light from the overhead fixture silhouetted his body, shadowing all the contours and outlines of his muscle groups.
Gemma swallowed and moved her gaze back to the jar. “This is Kandy’s jam, from Grandma’s old canning recipe. She makes it every year and gives it out as presents to family and friends.”
“So, I’m assuming that’s a yes for the sandwich.” He found the utensils drawer and grabbed a knife.
Gemma blinked, watching him.
How surreal was this? Standing in a strange kitchen in the middle of the night with a man clad in nothing but silk boxers, looking like a visiting God from Olympus, discussing a sandwich?
Gemma shook her head, wondering when she’d wake up from this dream. When she caught a glance at the way the muscles in Ky’s arm undulated as he spread the strawberry jam on the bread, she hoped she’d get to sleep a little longer.
“Can you grab me a water?” he asked as he picked up their plates and walked over to the breakfast bar.
Seated across from him a moment later, Gemma stared at the chain dropping down almost to his pecs. “What’s the pendant?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
“St. Michael the Archangel. Patron saint of law enforcement officers. My baby sister, Ariadne, gave it to me for my birthday a few years ago.”
“The Diet Mountain Dew girl?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know why, but I didn’t think you were Catholic.” She dug into her sandwich and tried not to devour it in one breath.
“I’m not. My whole family is Greek Orthodox, but Dini’s the most superstitious of us all so when saw the pendant online she thought it might help keep me safe.”
“Dini?”
The corner of his mouth lifted again and his eyes softened. “Family nickname.”
“Like Papps?”
His left eyebrow quirked. He took a bite of his sandwich and Gemma had an uncontrollable urge to press her thighs together when his neck bobbled as he swallowed.
“My family doesn’t call me that, only my coworkers do. Pappandreos is a mouthful for some people.” When he nailed her with a look that was equal parts mocking and hot, Gemma squirmed, remembering how difficult she’d found his name at first.
“She doesn’t like that you’re an FBI agent?”
“More that she worries. A lot. All the women in my family are worriers.” He shook his head, his lips tugging into a half-grin. “She thinks if I wear the medal I’ll be protected because it has a built in tracking device. I didn’t tell her I’ve never turned it on, but,”—he lifted a shoulder—“if it helps calm her worries, it’s no big deal to wear it.”
“That’s actually pretty sweet.”
“Dini’s a sweet girl.”
She wanted to tell him she meant he was being sweet, not his sister, but before she could, he cut her off.
“I did a larger scale sweep before turning in,” he told her. “Your friend Bannerman’s got a top-notch security system in the back of the pantry. Took me a few minutes to figure it out.”
“Rick’s the most tech savvy guy I’ve ever met. Even Josh is surprised by some of the stuff he brings to the table. And Josh is no techy-slouch in his own right.”
“It not only looks like the house is alarmed, but I think the surrounding property is as well. I’ll get a better, more in depth look at it in the morning, but we should be okay here for a few days at least. In the morning I’ll also try and make contact with my superior.”
“Find out how Jon’s doing, if you do. If he’s okay.”
Ky stared at her for a moment. She was a little aggravated she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.
“As soon as I know anything, I’ll tell you.”
It was amazing how swiftly he could go from being and sounding calm and nice, back to stern and hard.
“Your sister cans this jam?” he asked, changing the subject, and then took a pull from his water bottle.
Gemma nodded, confused at the topic switch. “Every year since she was nineteen and inherited grandma’s recipes.”
“I think this is the best strawberry jam I’ve ever had.”
Gemma chuckled. “No lie. And you’re not the only one. In the beginning she only gave it out to family. Once word spread, she increased it to friends and then friends of friends when they begged for it. Everyone keeps telling her she should market it commercially, but she won’t.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “Kandy’s very faithful to our grandmother’s memory. Some recipes she just doesn’t want the whole world to have access to. Keeping them private makes it seem like Grandma’s still with us, cooking only for us and no one else.”
She polished off her sandwich, silently wished she had another and then licked the jam that had seeped out from the bread and onto her fingers.
Ky’s swift inhale had her gaze whipping across the table. Nothing had changed in his outward demeanor. He sat, leaning back in his chair, his body relaxed, yet she felt he was anything but. It was his eyes. The green and blue flecks swirling in them had melded into one solid ball of deep and vibrant seafoam, mirroring the color at the bottom of the ocean. They were trained, unblinking, on her mouth. So intense was his stare, Gemma stopped, one of her fingers frozen in place between her lips.
The overwhelming sensation of being trapped and unable to move shot through her.
He lifted his gaze to her eyes and her heart quite simply stopped.
A well of sexual heat so deep it seemed bottomless, stared back at her. Want, desire, lust and—God save her—need, poured from him.
In the next instant he blinked, that blank wall of ice she was getting used to seeing, back in place as if she’d only imagined the scorching heat of a moment before.
But she hadn’t.
That longing had been as real and as potent as the dangerous situation she currently found herself surrounded by. Where she was terrified of one, the other, she was surprised to admit, she’d welcome. If he so much as leaned in toward her, gave her any indication the hunger she’d seen in his eyes was real and needed to be slaked, Gemma would have crawled onto his lap and cleaved herself to his body without another word.
But she knew in the light of the morning she’d be filled with regrets.
Kyros Pappandreos, all six foot plus and dangerously handsome, was the type of man Gemma was drawn to because of his looks, but the kind of guy she’d made a lifetime habit of avoiding. He was a man she knew instinctively would claim her body and demand her heart and there was no way Gemma was going to ever give her heart away. She would never put herself in a position of actually caring enough for any man that her heart would get involved.
Ky struck her as the type of man who’d want a woman to be all in: mind, body, heart, and soul. Total intimacy, shared thoughts and feelings, a true couple in every sense of the word. He didn’t strike her as player, like his partner Jon did, and she knew down to her toes he wasn’t. A woman who found herself involved with him would have to be willing to forego part of herself for the sake of true intimacy.
Gemma had dated a fair share of men since she’d grown out of the naiveté of her teens but had never been truly emotionally vested in any of them. Sex was one thing. Affection was quite another.
It dawned on her as Ky’s gaze zeroed in on her mouth that, sitting across the table from him in the dead of night, barely clothed, and eating a simple sandwich while they talked was the most intimate thing she’d ever done with a man that didn’t involve sex.
Her initial impression of him as an arrogant and self-important jerk had subtly begun to shift over the course of the days they were forced to be together. Yes, he was single-minded and stiffly superior at times, but the realization he presented that face to the world in order to meet the demands of his job was starting to change her opinion of who he really was. A man who, if she let him in, had the ability to destroy her.
Gemma pushed back from the table and lifted her plate. She needed to stop thinking about him as if he were a potential bed-mate. He wasn’t. He was her protector and nothing more. Lusting over his body would get her nowhere, fast.
“I’m making another one?” she asked. “You want?”
He nodded and took a sip from his bottle.
While she fixed the sandwiches, she gave into more of her curiosity. “Tell me about Theo.”
“What do you want to know?”
She set his plate before him and shrugged. “He’s been your friend forever?”
“Since we were little kids. His family lived next door to mine. His parents still do.”
“He seems a little…eccentric.”
Ky nodded. “As good a word as any, I guess.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, then swallowed.
Across from him Gemma pressed her thighs together and squirmed in her seat as she watched his throat work. The overwhelming desire to stretch across the table and lick his neck barreled through her again like a speeding bullet.
“Theo’s a genius,” Ky said. “A real one. His IQ’s been tested as off the charts. He went to MIT at fifteen, had three doctorates—math, physics, and computer science—before he hit twenty-five.”
Gemma’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Wow.”
“I know. Genius doesn’t even really do him justice. His mind works like a computer.”
“He must have been fun at sleepovers.”
Ky’s lips quirked before he took a draught from his water bottle.
“So smart, yet he seemed a little, I don’t know, lost?”
Ky held the bottle suspended in his hand while he gaped at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Why do you think he’s…lost?”
She shrugged.
“He was wearing clothes that were clean about six days ago, his hair’s a few months from a pair of scissors and he looked a little like a kid whose puppy died.”
Ky lowered the bottle to the table with such exquisite precision and controlled timing, Gemma worried she’d said something wrong.
“I imagine being such an astute observer is what makes you such a fabulous photographer,” he said after a moment.
She was too stunned to respond.
“You’re not too far off the mark. Theo lost…someone. Someone very special to him. Violently. He’s never recovered from it.”
Gemma stayed silent.
“He’s pretty much a recluse now,” Ky continued. “Rarely leaves his place. Won’t see people.”
“He welcomed you in pretty fast.”
Ky lifted a shoulder. “I’ve known him for most of his life. We’re like brothers. I’m one of a very small number of people he trusts.”
And she knew how important trust was to Ky.
“What’s up with all the computers?”
With a sigh, he picked up the last bit of his sandwich. “He’s trying to locate something. He’s devoted his life to finding it, in fact.”
“I’m no expert by any sense of the word, but it looked like he had financial stuff on those monitors. Like you see scrolling along at the stock exchange.”
“Some of it probably was.”
“What he’s looking for involves stocks?”
Ky shook his head and then said, “Not the stocks themselves, but the person buying them.”
“That tells me something and absolutely nothing.”
Gemma realized what a good friend Ky truly was, by his silence.
With a deep breath, he sat back in his chair, his hands crossed over his chest.
His naked chest.
Her thighs vibrated again.
Bad thighs.
“Theo met a woman a few years ago when he’d been asked to speak at an international banking conference in London. She was a financial analyst, also speaking at the conference. They…hit it off right away.” A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “She was everything Theo ever dreamed of in a woman, including the fact she was first-generation Greek, something his parents were thrilled about. He proposed within a month of meeting her.”
“Yowza. That’s fast, but not unheard of. Josh asked Kandy to marry him a week after they met.”
“That’s fast. But we all knew Theo and Calista were made for one another.”
“I don’t get the impression this ends well.”
He nailed her with a gaze that was at once sad and angry. “It didn’t. Calista was killed. Murdered.”
“What? By who?”
“That’s what Theo’s been searching for: a name. Calista discovered a huge insider trading scheme within the European and American stock markets. She’d been doing research on certain branches of stock holdings and saw some kind of connection or imbalance, or something. I don’t know the whole story. She told Theo about it and he encouraged her to go public. Before she could, she was gunned down.”
“Oh, good Lord. And she didn’t tell Theo the names of the people involved?”
“No. She died before she could. He’s been searching for the people responsible ever since, because he believes her death is connected to what she’d discovered.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. He’s promised when he finds the link he’ll let me know. I’ve vowed to help him bring those responsible to justice. Justice for Calista. And closure for Theo.”
“When? Not if?”
“There is no if with Theo. If it takes him until the day he dies, he’ll find out who did this.”
Gemma stared across the table at him for a moment. “I think you’re a very good friend and he’s very lucky to call you one.”
When he didn’t say anything else, Gemma realized something else about Special Agent Pappandreos: he was a man who kept his word.
“Okay, well,” she said, rising. “It’s getting later by the second. Thanks for making me the sandwich and not shooting me.” She rinsed the dishes in the sink.
“There was never any danger of that happening.”
She jumped when he came up next to her.
Jesus, the guy moved fast. She hadn’t even heard him rise from his chair.
“Well, okay, but you weren’t the one with a gun pointed at your face. I could have been shot just because I was hungry. I’d like to see you explain that to my family.”
Ky rinsed his own dish, turned sideways to her, laid one hand down on the counter edge, the other on his waist and leveled a serious glare at her.
“What?”
With a shake of his head, his lips pulled into that subtle grin that was beginning to drive her crazy—with need. “I’m too tired to tell if you’re being serious or joking around, but either way, you’re welcome.”
“Thanks,” was all her mind gave her to say.
“Think you’ll be able to get back to sleep now?”
“Yes. I’m not hungry,” her gaze flicked to his mouth, “anymore. The sandwiches helped.”
He nodded. “Good.”
“Well, then.” She backed away from the sink and hugged her arms across her chest. “’Night.”
“Good night.”
She felt his eyes on her until she turned the corner and headed up the stairs. She wanted to look down from the landing to see if he’d moved to watch her, but chickened out at the last second.
Snuggled back under the covers, her rumbling stomach at last calmed, Gemma took a deep breath and closed her eyes, determined not to drift off to the image of a pair of eyes the color of a calm ocean, and a man whose name conjured up thoughts of Greek Islands and warm, white sandy beaches.