“They killed her?”

In answer she says, “She was only a kid.”

I feel nausea coming on. I can put up with so much awful shit in this world, but only when it’s not my actions that caused it. This? This child getting murdered, others getting raped?

It’s on me.

Guilt can cripple you. Or it can be a driving force. Only your internal strength decides how you respond to your failures.

I fight my stomach into submission with a couple of deep calming breaths. “I’m sorry” is all I can say.

She rubs tears from her eyes as she says, “I’m glad you killed that man. The Serbians had been raping the girls, anyway. That is not your fault. And the girl ran because she thought she had an opportunity. Who knows? She might be the luckiest one out of all of us.”

Once more I try to get her to listen to reason. “Not if you come with me right now. I can protect you, Roxana. Trust me.” But I see a resolution in her eyes that is so similar to what I’ve seen from her sister for the past few days that I know it’s futile to fight her.

“Tell Talyssa I love her.” She breaks down in fresh tears, and I can read it all on her face. She knows this is her one decent shot at survival, and almost definitely her only chance to get out of this situation without being brutalized by her captors.

But she is steadfast in her decision.

And I know when I’m beat. “I’ll tell her. She thinks you blame her for what happened.”

Roxana wipes her eyes again, shakes her head. “No. I did this. I did this on my own. And I’m going to continue my mission until I find out where this all leads. I’ll contact her, and then she . . . and you . . . can come and tear this whole thing apart.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” I offer my hand to her and she looks at it. With a beautiful little smile that takes me by surprise, she says, “I haven’t had a man want to shake my hand in a while. Other things, yes, but not that.”

I feel bad for what I’m about to do, but I do it anyway. She offers me her hand finally and I take it in mine, and as I shake it I say, “I’m going to have to make this look good. You’ll thank me later, but probably only much later.” I add, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

I pull her up from the bed towards me and, at the same time, I fire out a left hook to her temple, knocking her out cold, and then I catch her and gently lay her down on the floor in a heap. I tear open her sleeveless blouse and position her next to the bodies.

I couldn’t leave her sitting here in this stateroom untouched with two dead guys lying around. Even if I ran around this boat till everyone saw me and all on board knew an assassin had schwacked this perv and his shithead bodyguard, it would look damn suspicious that I didn’t at least hurt her in the process. If she looked in any way complicit in what happened, I couldn’t imagine what they’d do to her then. And even now, leaving her lying here on the floor feels wrong on every level.

But it was her call to make.

I hear the tender on the port side motor away, probably back to the rear of the vessel so it can be winched out of the water, and this tells me everyone is on board. I head to the door, now wondering if I can even get myself out of here before getting killed.

* * *

• • •

Jaco Verdoorn climbed up the ladder and stepped onto the deck. Behind him the eight women he and the Greek mafia men picked up on the coast of the Croatian city of Rovinj ascended, one by one, until they all stood there with him, squinting in the bright light.

Though there were eight in this shipment, only seven of them would be generating revenue for the organization. One of them, and Verdoorn eyed her as she climbed aboard, was a special-handling item. A beautiful Hungarian blonde, Cage had seen her at the ballet in Budapest with his wife several months earlier, and he’d demanded she be pulled into the pipeline.

She’d be taken along with Maja to the West Coast, used by Cage and his friends and business partners at Rancho Esmerelda, and then cast away after Cage found a new crop on his future trips abroad.

When all the women stood on the deck, Dr. Riesling gave her little speech to the new arrivals, they were promised food and a shower, and then the guards began leading them into the saloon to go down the stairs to the lower deck.

As they descended, Verdoorn stepped up to Riesling. “Where is Kostopoulos?”

“He had Maja brought up to his room fifteen minutes ago. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s lasted this long. Usually he’s done with them in ten.” Verdoorn’s eyes narrowed, and Riesling added, “Don’t worry. I told him, no permanent marks.”

One of the Greek guards came out of the saloon, looked around, and then spun away as he spoke into his walkie-talkie. Verdoorn noted the mannerisms of this man, and when a second one of Kostas’s force came running up the main deck, himself showing worry and purposefulness, the South African grabbed him by the arm. “What is the problem?”

In English the guard said, “One of our men. We no can find.”

Jaco had his pistol out of his coat an instant later, and he looked to Dr. Riesling. “Get the product below! You stay with them!”

The American woman began ushering the girls into the saloon, but to Verdoorn she said, “What’s the matter?”

Verdoorn was already moving into the saloon, his pistol out in front of him, searching the area as he headed for the circular staircase. But he called back behind him in answer to the doctor’s question. “The Gray Man . . . he’s on board.”

“How do you—”

“Because I can feel him!”

THIRTY

   I take stairs up to the open sundeck and then, after checking the area below for armed goons, I kick a leg over the rail and slide down the slick white side of the vessel, landing hard but quietly on the main deck. This portion of the boat is well lit, and I see movement up near the bow, but it’s only a deckhand facing away from me, far enough forward on the one-hundred-fifty-foot vessel that I’m not worried about him.

My goal is the aft deck and the scuba equipment I’ve staged there. Once I get it on, I plan on using the sea stairs to make my way into the water silently.

I begin heading aft in a low crouch along the starboard-side main deck.

I don’t make it far before a voice comes over the loudspeaker. He’s speaking Greek, and he’s agitated, shouting commands. I forgo the crouch and haul ass the last twenty-five feet, pretty certain the reason this guy has his panties in a twist is that he just found out some asshole is killing people on his boat.

Sure enough, the man switches to English and says words to that effect. “Alert! Trespasser on board. He is armed! All security to the main deck.”