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But even as I sneered at the overly sappy thought, my heart banged a mournful beat in my chest. I could deny it all I wanted, but there would always be a part of me that wished that scenario could be real. My stomach clenched.
I should stop the pretending. He’d hate me in mere hours.
By the time I finished shoving my clothes in the bag and had swiped all my toiletries from the bathroom sink as well, the computer was done. I clicked on the program to see just what Rafe had deemed important enough to keep under lock and key.
I understood why it had taken so long. There were so many files. Names, dates, account numbers. My mouth fell open as I accessed document after document.
Classified files.
I covered my mouth as I read through profiles on foreign dignitaries and notorious crime lords from around the world. These files contained everything about the person in question, including their family members and their routines. What was all this?
As I kept reading, my stomach seized up. The people in these files were not good men. Certainly not the kind of men I wanted to have information on.
Drug lords, murderers, terrorists and human traffickers. Why would Rafe have profiles on these men? If Rafe associated with these kinds of people, he couldn’t be the man I thought he was.
Then I opened another file, and my father’s face filled the screen.
My head spun.
I gasped so loudly I wouldn’t have been surprised if it woke Rafe, but I was too riveted to even notice. I stared back into my father’s eyes, confronted with the face I hadn’t seen in so long. Tears filled my eyes as that awful night came back.
It was one thing to think that Rafe had information about my father’s death, but this was too much, seeing the evidence that he’d studied my father, looked for an opportunity to hurt him. A choked whimper escaped my lips, and I was on the verge of closing the file when something stopped me. I’d come this far and wouldn’t back down now. It was time to find out exactly why Rafe had done this. What had he wanted? Was it politically motivated, or had my father just pissed off the wrong person and paid the price with his life?
I took a deep breath and forced myself to start reading. Just like the others, it detailed all my father’s information along with his family at the top. That was the only part that was familiar. As I read, heat flushed my body and my stomach roiled.
What the hell?
Who had written this report? The man they described was not my father. A drug trafficker? Human trafficking? My stomach protested and bile rose in my throat. I clapped a hand over my mouth, afraid I’d vomit right then and there. My father would have never done those things.
Then I moved to the next page, and my heart sank again as I scrolled through pictures of my father standing with armed men, looking for all the world like he belonged there. Then there was a picture of him with Uncle Boris, and the notation next to his name indicated that he was also a wanted criminal in several countries.
That was when I realized thatnothingwas as it seemed.
I closed my eyes. Of course. How naïve I’d been. My father was one of these men. The men whom people feared.
One line on the page had me frowning. It was the report of an exchange of funds from Boris Klinkov to my father. Idon’t have time to go down this rabbit hole.But I couldn’t help myself. I clicked the file name.
Boris Klinkov was a family friend. I’d grown up calling him Uncle Boris. He was involved in these horrible things too? Was anyone who I thought they were? Had my mother known?
Too sick to keep reading and too afraid to not continue, I scanned the page. Boris Klinkov had given my father twenty million dollars. In exchange, on my twenty-fifth birthday, I would be married to him, giving him the Jewel of the Sea.
I couldn’t hold the bile back anymore. I barely made it to the toilet in the hallway bathroom. Even as I emptied the contents of my stomach, my mind reeled. My father had sold me. To Uncle Boris. The man was older than my father had been.
I can panic later. Time to run.
With shaking fingers, I took out the thumb drive and put it in my pocket. It felt like I was underwater or moving in slow motion. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to get my legs to go any faster. All I could see were the horrible things written in that report, and a million questions would start swirling in my brain. Images and memories kept coming back, things that hadn’t made sense before but suddenly had whole new meaning in this context.
Suddenly I felt like I had a target on my back. I shivered at the thought of being at the mercy of men like my father. Rafe wouldn’t be able to protect me from someone like Boris. From what I’d seen of him and on the files, he was no longer an assassin.
I can’t wait for someone to protect me, I need to protect myself.
This whole time I’d assumed Rafe’s past was the obstacle, but I was the one related to criminals. And I’d brought them right to his doorstep. All the contacts I’d used to get me ready for this mission—my brothers’ contacts. Criminals. Maybe Uncle Boris had even helped. After all, I was soon to be his property.
I closed the computer, stowing it in the duffel. Once it was securely zipped, I slung it over my shoulder. Pausing in the doorway to his bedroom, I took one last look at Rafe sleeping on the bed. My eyes took in his dark hair falling over his brow and the muscular body that was everything dreams were made of. I stared without blinking, hoping to commit the sight to memory, to burn it into my mind so surely that I’d never forget what almost was.
I needed that memory to get me through what was to come.
* * *
