Mena said, “Still no word from Michael. Not a call or a text. I talked to Athena this morning, and she got some intel. Apparently, he charted a private yacht and left St. Basil a couple of days ago, but she couldn’t find out where he was headed.”
“Well, thank God for small favors. The last thing you need is to be worried about your H-U-S-B-A-N-D showing up while you’re worried out of your mind for Julian. I checked thePalmchat Gazettethis morning and the police are still baffled by his disappearance and who attacked the prison,” Omar said. He walked back around her desk and plopped down onto the cushioned chair.
“I doubt it’s the first time Julian has found himself captured by an enemy. Omar, the things he did in Kenya went beyond heroic. He’s skilled and smart and relentless. He can get himself out of whatever situation he’s in. He just needs time,” Mena said.
“And so do you. Sweetie, why don’t you take next week off. You’ve been working nonstop through this madness.”
“To do what? Sit alone worrying?” Mena asked.
“Fine. I know that tone. You won’t listen to reason. I guess I should just be satisfied that Regina and I can keep an eye out on you while you’re here. Now let’s talk shop,” Omar said.
“Let’s not. A totem pole carved by indigenous people in British Columbia is arriving this weekend. It was painted black decades ago, covering the original colors. The province wants to see if my laser conservation techniques can remove the outer layer of paint. My entire team will be here working with me through the weekend to see if it can be done,” Mena said.
“If anyone can do it, you can. But before it gets here, can you put a rush on authenticating the Mayan relief Beaujean wants to purchase? The owner will only let us keep it for a few more days to run the tests.”
“I’ll get the report to you later this afternoon.”
“Thanks, hon. Don’t forget, if you need anything, I don’t care how big or small, please let me know. Or Regina. We’re here for you.”
Mena pressed her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss. As Omar walked out of her office, Mena turned her attention back to the computer. The website of the company Athena said Michael had chartered a private boat from was on the screen. What was herhusbandup to? Now that she knew Julian was safe, she turned her attention back to trying to get Michael to sign the divorce papers.
Leaning back in her chair, Mena stared out the large window onto the manicured lawn below. She suspected that Michael had returned to the island to figure out what happened to him over the weekend. Athena had made it clear Michael wouldn’t remember what she’d done to him. Mena didn’t know how Athena had gotten Michael back to New York City. She imagined he was baffled by the abrupt change in location once the drugs wore off.
For a neurologist, the gap in his recall was probably driving him crazy. Why hadn’t he called her to figure out what happened over the weekend? Did he suspect she’d drugged him?
Mena jumped, goosebumps peppering her skin, as her cell phone vibrated on the desk. She reached for the phone and glanced down at the screen.
Private number.
Must be Athena with more news.
Mena answered, “Hello.”
“Go close your office door.” The voice was unmistakable.
Pushing up from her chair, Mena raced to the door and slammed it shut, then pressed her back against the cool wood.
Heart pounding in her throat, Mena whispered, “Please tell me it’s really you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Julian? Are you there?” Mena asked, then glanced at the screen. No bars. She’d lost her cell phone signal at the worst possible time. “Damn it!”
Mena threw the phone across the room. The small device slammed into the back wall of bookshelves, then clattered across the rug. Sinking to the floor, Mena covered her face with her hands and willed herself not to cry. She’d been so close to talking to Julian. So close to being able to tell him how much she missed him and loved him. He’d taken a risk by calling her.
Go close your office door.
That’s what Julian had said to her. But how could he have known—
Mena’s eyes flung open. She stared across the room.
Julian stood in the open entrance to the secret stairwell that led to the basement of the Genesis Gallery.
His seductive brown eyes were cast down toward her, alluring and mesmerizing. A sexy smile played at the corners of his mouth.
Julian looked damn good and not like a man who’d just escaped from a maximum-security prison. His body was relaxed, slouching against the edge of the wall. Dressed in a dark t-shirt and basketball shorts, Mena’s eyes lingered for a moment on the bulge in his pants. She scrambled to her feet and walked toward him.
He put a finger to his lips. Mena slipped her hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of excitement racing through her body. Easing the bookshelf closed behind them, he led her into the stairwell, down the steps and through the steel door. Memories of the first time they’d discovered the basement flooded her mind. The search for Irving Bond and the missing baby. Seeing Quentin Tufa for the first time and overhearing Quentin and Zak Webber talking about Operation X. Back then, they’d had no clue Priscilla Dumay was hiding three kidnapped women in the basement and forcing them to be surrogates.
