Her only path forward was to be honest and hope—not beg—for forgiveness.
She began to dial, her mind going back to the woman standing on the ledge of Kross’s hotel. Was she even a player? Was it possible she was simply trying to escape her violent husband or a dangerous lover she’d picked up in a bar?
No ... she’s involved. It’s not a coincidence. She’s the reason why Kross hasn’t picked up my calls.
Then whose team was she on? Was she with the man who’d taken out her officers? Had she been to Kross’s hotel to kill him? To interrogate him? If so, who had sent her? And why?
Then a thought crossed her mind, and she froze.
Am I her next target?
Chapter Seventeen
Palma
Mallorca, Spain
Through a narrow gap in the curtains, Caspian stood by the window, watching the quiet street two stories below. The studio apartment he and Liesel had found refuge in was tucked inside a nondescript residential building. With only a small LED night-light near the kitchenette offering illumination, it was mostly dark inside the apartment, but it was enough. Caspian didn’t want to silhouette himself.
The apartment was located in a sleepy corner of Palma between rows of aging buildings with wrought-iron balconies. It was the kind of street that didn’t see much foot traffic even during the day, and now that night had fallen, the neighborhood was practically deserted. Across the street, a small family restaurant had gone dark thirty minutes ago. Caspian had watched as the last employee had stacked the terrace chairs on the tables and rolled up the awning.
Samantha Ranger had booked the apartment through an offshore shell company run by the Strategic Support Unit. The building had no front desk, no doorman, and access to its minuscule lobby required a key or a five-digit code. There was one tiny elevator, but it was out of service. Caspian had deadbolted the front door of the apartment the moment they’d walked in. Apart from a two-story jump from the Julietbalcony, the apartment had no secondary exit. Still, Caspian believed he and Liesel were under no immediate threat. They were safe. For now.
Behind Caspian, the room was quiet. Liesel sat slouched on a gray couch. Her body was heavy with fatigue, and she looked at him with hollow eyes.
He’d seen that look many times before, and more recently on Florence Aldrich when she’d realized her dad was dead. He knew the emotions Liesel was going through.
Loss. Shock. And heartbreak.
Caspian felt he needed to say something to break the silence.
“Ranger’s digging into it, you know? The Azimut yacht, Paul Hobb, Hearts United. All of it.”
Liesel shook her head.
“I’m not holding my breath,” she said. “Hearts United has been investigated before. Nothing ever sticks.”
“Maybe that’s because there’s nothing to stick,” he replied.
“My sister wouldn’t lie.”
“I’m not saying she did, but Hearts United? I mean ... Everett Westcott is a highly respected philanthropist. He’s—”
“Did you ever meet him? In person?” Liesel interrupted.
“I haven’t, but my—”
“You haven’t? So, you’ll agree with me that it’s possible it’s all smoke and mirrors, right?”
Caspian didn’t think it was. “Sure. It could be, but what I was going to say is that, even though I’ve never met the guy, Nelson has.”
Nelson Anderson, Caspian’s brother, was an emergency room physician who had joined Doctors Without Borders more than a decade ago. He was now the organization’s medical director in Kenya. The fact that Nelson had met Westcott seemed to take Liesel by surprise, but only for a second. “So what?” she asked.
Clearly, Liesel wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
“Nelson spoke highly of Westcott. And as you know, my brother isn’t someone to throw around compliments if they aren’t warranted.”
“What did Westcott do to impress him so damn much?”
