The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(31)

“Thank God.” Raptis’s head slumped forward in relief. “My family th-thanks you.”

“No thanks are necessary. Who hired you?”

Raptis looked down at his shoes, his face darkening in shame. “I play the horses, can’t seem to stop. I owe a lot. Thousands. The bookie told me my debt would be erased if I did this one favor for him.”

“Pick up people on a yacht.”

He nodded. “It seemed harmless enough. Two men who looked like bodyguards escorted Christos Paris—I recognized him from the papers—onto the chopper, and then off we went. I thought maybe he was having a secret meeting, needed to fly under the radar. Rich people can be odd.”

“How did you know where to go?”

“I was given a helicopter and GPS coordinates, on standby for hours before the call came in.”

“Did you see anyone else on board the yacht?”

“A smaller racing boat was moored to the side, and two men and a guy dressed like a chef were in it. They left before we took off. I didn’t know it was a kidnap, I swear. I only learned about it afterward on the news.”

“And you told no one about your involvement.”

“Not a soul. My family wasn’t even home. I’d told my wife to take the kids to her mother’s place for the holidays, since I had to work.”

Stupid man, revealing where his family was. “Who carries your debts?”

Raptis winced, squirming in the chair. “Alec Floros.”

“Where did you take Christos Paris?”

“Corfu. A Dash 10 was waiting on the runway, and they took off from there.”

“Any markings on the plane? Did you get the tail number?”

“No markings that I recall. I just did my job, minded my own business.”

With a quick movement of his hand, Nikos reached down and grabbed the ten-inch hunting blade from a sheath strapped to his left calf. The razor-sharp edge slashed through skin and cartilage on both wrists before the pilot could react. A blood-curdling scream echoed in the cave, followed by a moan and whimper. Nikos wanted to be sure he’d gotten every last detail.

“Tell me everything, and I’ll stop the bleeding. Last chance.”

“B-but I already did. Please, help me.” Raptis’s eyes bulged as he stared at the blood pooling on the cave floor. “My family—you promised I’d see them again.” His voice was reedy, desperate.

“Family is what this is all about. But mine comes first.” Nikos slashed Raptis’s throat. Blood spurted from the severed carotid artery, splattering the cave wall. He wiped the blade on the pilot’s sleeve and replaced it in its sheath. Raptis’s eyes were empty and unmoving.

His men could clean up the mess later. He hurried back to the secret entrance and collected his gear. Energized by the success of the interrogation, he scaled the wall with speed and skill, finding anchor after anchor, rocketing his muscular frame to the top. He needed to shower, change clothes, and track down the plane that had left Corfu.

And since it was Friday, he’d text Thea a photo. No matter where he was in the world, even if they were in the same country, he sent her a selfie, and she wrote a warm, loving note back. Thea was always there for him. He counted on it.





Chapter Nineteen



Thea and Rif strode into the Hotel Grande Bretagne in Athens. Time was ticking by, and the uncommunicative kidnapper remained in the shadows. Not knowing where the search would lead them, she’d asked Hakan to take Aegis to Quantum’s London office. Helena wasn’t a dog person, but Aegis was slowly winning her over. Peter Kennedy had begged off from the ride to Athens, saying he’d catch up with them soon. She wondered if he was trying to dodge her more insistent questions.

The familiar surroundings of the landmark hotel reminded her once again of Papa. She’d passed through the ornate lobby with him countless times—the Doric columns, coffered ceilings with stained-glass insets, gilded mirrors, sumptuous velvet couches, and intricately tiled floor were all as familiar as they were luxurious. Today, though, it felt hollow and empty without her father’s presence. Papa stayed here whenever he visited Athens, paying a monthly stipend so the presidential suite would be available if he showed up unannounced.

Before she and Rif could take the elevator to the sixth floor, where the butler check-in desk was located, a familiar face greeted her. Stavros had been the hotel manager for more than twenty years. “Ms. Paris, I heard about your father. Is there anything I can do?”

“If you could kindly prepare the suite, that would be wonderful.”

He reached into the breast pocket of his suit and passed her the keys. “It’s ready for you.”

“Well, thank you, but—”

“I figured you were on your way when this letter was delivered.” Stavros handed her a manila envelope with her name typed in block letters.

She’d strategically chosen their usual hotel in case the kidnapper wanted to reach her. Or perhaps it was something from Hakan? Better to play it safe. She reached into her backpack and grabbed a pair of vinyl gloves.

She opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of white paper.

CHRISTOS PARIS AND THE DAMOCLES ARE UNDER OUR CONTROL. DROP TEN MILLION EUROS IN UNMARKED BILLS ONTO THE DECK IN WATERPROOF CONTAINERS BEFORE MIDNIGHT TOMORROW. EVERY HOUR AFTER THE DEADLINE, CHRISTOS WILL LOSE A BODY PART, AND OIL WILL BE LEAKED INTO THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA. NO NEGOTIATION. NO CALLS.