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Jasmine didn’t have to open her eyes to know whose hand it was.
The electric shock ripping across her nerve endings told her it was Ace.
“Are you okay?” He spoke softly, the rich timbre of his voice melting into her skin and her heart.
“No,” she admitted. “My son has been kidnapped, time is running out and I don’t know where to find Demopoulos to get back what he stole from me.” Her lips twisted. “And, yes, I realize the irony. He stole what I stole from the museum and the people of Jordan.” She shook her head. “And I’d do it again to save my son.”
He covered her hand with his. “I’m waiting for Swede to get back to us with information on Demopoulos’s location.”
Her brow dipped. “We need an insider in the criminal underground. I might know someone who can help.” The first time she’d been back to Athens, she’d been hired by a wealthy Greek shipping tycoon to follow his wife to see if she was cheating on him.
The tycoon had introduced her to a man with connections throughout the city and beyond who could help her with anything she needed, from access to elite country clubs to entrance into exclusive gambling halls.
Jasmine pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts to Dmytro, hoping he still had the same number since the last time she’d contacted him had been over six months ago.
A lazy, gravelly voice answered in Ukrainian on the second ring. “Moya lyubov, yak spravy?” My love, how are you?
A smile spread across Jasmine’s face. “I hope you, your wife and your daughter are well,” Jasmine responded in Dmytro’s native Ukrainian. “I need your help.”
“Anything for you,” he said.
Jasmine’s chest swelled. She’d spent some time with the man after her job had ended with the tycoon. He’d invited her to his home for dinner and poker with his wife and daughter.
She’d learned how he and his family had escaped Ukraine when Russia had ravaged his hometown in an attempt to bring Ukraine back into the Russian borders. They’d lost loved ones and had to start over in a country where they hadn’t spoken the language. Dmytro had done his best for what was left of his family.
Jasmine suspected she’d reminded Dmytro of his daughter Ana. He’d taken her under his wing and helped her get her feet on the ground as an international freelancer and entrepreneur.
He’d even hooked her up with a man who made fake passports. By the time she’d returned to Israel and Eli, she’d had passports for Russia, Italy, Greece, Spain, Germany and the UK. And she had a friend she could count on when she was in Athens.
“I need to get to Athanasios Demopoulos. He stole something from me that I need to get back.” She paused for a breath, then continued, “My son’s life depends on getting the items back.”
“Does Demopoulos have Eli?” Dmytro’s voice went from lazy to tight.
“No. Someone else does. If he doesn’t get the item Demopoulos took from me, he will kill Eli.”
“No, no,” Dmytro said. “We cannot let that happen. You need to know where you can find Demopoulos. I will text his address. He has a compound just outside Athens. It is heavily guarded. You will not get past his security.”
“Does he leave the compound often?” Jasmine asked. “Is there a place he frequents daily? I don’t have much time.”
“No, but his son, Christos, is a gambler. You can find him at the Olympus Casino every afternoon. His father has threatened to disown him for the debts he accrues.”
“I need to get to the father,” Jasmine insisted. “Not the son.”
“The son lives on the compound with his father,” Dmytro’s voice softened. “A cunning woman could find a way to be invited into the compound by the son, especially if the son is known to have a great love for all women. You will find him in a private poker game. You play poker, yes?”
Jasmine nodded with a grin, though Dmytro couldn’t see. “I have. With you.”
“Then you learned from the best. I will arrange for you to play to win. You will have to take it from there.”
“It has to be today,” Jasmine urged. “I don’t have much time.”
“I will ensure it happens. Christos will be there within the next two hours.” Dmytro chuckled. “The boy cannot resist a high-stakes poker game with an elite player he has yet to match his wits against. I’m sure he’ll be eager to test his skills against the notorious daughter of a wealthy Italian family.”
A grin quirked at the corners of Jasmine’s mouth. “A certain Francesca Giordano?”
“Si, bella mia,” he said in his flawless Italian before switching back to Ukrainian. “Now, let me set it up. Can you be at the casino in two hours?”
“We can be there in fifteen minutes,” she said, her jaw tightening.
