The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(39)



“Hard to say. Given your mettle, you may have weathered it better than your brother.”

They arrived at the front entrance of the Grande Bretagne. Rif handed the car keys to the parking valet, and they entered the vast marble-clad foyer. The hotel had breathtaking views of the famed Acropolis and Parthenon, the regal Constitution Square, the parliament buildings, the lush Lycabettus Hill, and the original Olympic stadium. History-steeped Athens felt like a second home to Thea, but right now her heart ached for her father.

Inside the hotel, a striking couple hurried toward them. She recognized the barrel-chested policeman who was helping Hakan with the forensics on the yacht, but she’d never seen the woman before. Rif stepped in front of her.

The man reached around him to shake her hand. “Ms. Paris, Maximillian Heros. I haven’t seen you since that fund-raiser your father sponsored in Milan.”

She clasped Max’s hand. She remembered that evening: Maximillian Heros had worn a gold Rolex, a designer tux, and won the live auction for a limited-edition Ferrari.

“Olives, right?” Thea said, referring to his family’s business. Papa had dinner with Max occasionally, two wealthy men sharing their fondness for Scotch and cigars.

“I’m also an inspector general with the Hellenic Police. This is Gabrielle Farrah from the Hostage Recovery Fusion Cell in Washington, DC.”

The woman had large brown eyes and a strong jawline. HRFC. They did good work, but they had to paint inside the lines in a way that independent contractors, like QIS, didn’t.

Thea indicated Rif. “This is my colleague Rifat Asker.” She gave Gabrielle a firm handshake. “We’re running late, so I hope you’ll excuse us.”

“Ms. Paris, can you give us a few minutes to discuss your father’s kidnapping? All of Greece is in an uproar about his abduction, and we just saw a news report about you saving the compromised oil tanker.” Max’s dark eyes lingered on her face.

Her skin reddened. Dammit, another leak. Could it actually be someone on their team? “We appreciate your interest, but Quantum is handling the kidnapping. Too many cooks, and all that. I’m sure you understand.” She turned to leave.

Gabrielle gently touched her shoulder. “I want you to know I’m here to help. And because you’re in the business, I trust your discretion, which is why I’m sharing the following information. There’s a SEAL team executing an extraction mission tonight somewhere in the Middle East. We have intel that there’s a prominent American being held in the camp.”

“What country? What makes you think it might be my father?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you more. But the moment I hear an update, you’ll be the first to know.”

Skepticism overrode hope. “Thanks. Why no negotiation? There are huge risks in extractions.”

Gabrielle shook her head. “Classified, sorry. I used to be CIA stationed in the Middle East, and all I can tell you is that the decision for the mission is a well-reasoned one. I can’t imagine the hell you’re going through, but like I said, I’m here to help. Here’s my card.”

Thea glanced at it, then dug into her purse and handed the HRFC agent a card with her private cell number on it. It was probably too much to hope that the SEALs would rescue Papa, but even if they didn’t—or if the captive they found wasn’t Papa—Gabrielle’s access to resources could still help bring her father home.

She would need to tread carefully. As courteous as these two law enforcement agents were, they also clearly had their own agendas. Her father’s kidnapping would naturally be of great interest to both Greek and American authorities because of his financial support and connection to oil. The last thing Papa would want was to be caught up in a political maelstrom connected to his abduction.

The front doors opened, and a burst of sunshine blinded her around the contours of a familiar silhouette striding toward them. She blinked. Nikos.





Chapter Twenty-Eight



Nikos recognized the brunette standing next to Thea immediately. Gabrielle Farrah, his very own stalker. The Hostage Recovery Fusion Cell agent had recently been interviewed on CNN about the upswing in kidnapped CEOs. She’d mentioned her suspicion about Ares financing many of the abductions. Well, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade—unless he could figure out a way to squeeze lemon juice into this relentless woman’s eyes.

In a few long strides, he joined his sister, who must’ve just returned from the sideshow at the supertanker. He was impressed by the way her team had neutralized Jorge’s men. It made him optimistic about the future—if brother and sister worked together, they’d be unstoppable.

The diversion had given him time to head to Corfu, where he’d discovered that the plane transporting his father had been flown to Kanzi, landing on an abandoned airstrip on the southeast coast, near Zimbabwe. And that was where he was headed in about an hour. First he’d wanted to check in with his sister to see if the real kidnapper had made any further contact.

“This is my brother, Nikos Paris.” Thea gestured to the brunette and her well-dressed companion. “You probably remember Inspector General Maximillian Heros from Papa’s charity board. And this is Gabrielle Farrah, from the Hostage Recovery Fusion Cell.”

Nikos leaned close and held Gabrielle’s hand longer than necessary. “Pleasure to meet you.”

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