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“Apologies, I find myself feeling quite fatigued. I thought I might take a quick nap.”
When he didn’t respond, I expected him to move to another seat. I peeked over my shoulder and saw his eyes were closed too. If only I could turn around and rest my head against the broad expanse of his chest and feel his powerful arm around me as he drew me into his embrace. I longed to know what that would feel like. I’d give anything to experience it. I scrunched my eyes at the thought.Anything?My God, what a hypocrite I was.
5
MAGNET
Something was up with Schön. In the past, I’d been able to get a read on her fairly quickly. In fact, one leveled gaze from me, and she’d spill the beans, as they say, without my needing to ask.
It had to be my reaction when Verity had first suggested she help with my disguise. But if that was the case, why had she stepped in to do it when Verity asked Ehren and I help one another instead?
I glanced over at her, wondering if she’d already drifted to sleep. Seeing her huddled against the window, I wanted to put my arm around her and pull her close, giving her a more comfortable place to rest her head.
Before I could shut my eyes again, I saw Rogue approaching. I put one finger in front of my mouth and motioned with my head in Schön’s direction. His forehead scrunched when he put his hand on the back of the seat in front of me and looked over at her.
“I thought she and I?—”
I shook my head and shushed him. “Let her sleep,” I said just above a whisper.
While his expression remained perplexed, he turned around and took a seat two rows in front of us. It was closer than I would’ve preferred. In fact, I would’ve been much happier if he sat in the front of the plane, near Ehren. It wasn’t as if he and Schön needed to be undercover as a couple when the four of us were the only passengers on the plane.
Since sleep eluded me, I mentally reviewed the objectives of the op in front of us. While it seemed simple—get close enough to Francesca Vella and Charlene Vella-Borg to acquire something that could be used to test their DNA, any mission element that appeared too easy usually meant it wouldn’t be. No doubt, obtaining something useful from the mother would prove less of a challenge than the daughter.
However, when Rile DeLeón was asked about gathering samples from the cottage on his compound, where Francesca and Charlene had stayed, he’d responded that it was cleaned so thoroughly by the women before their departure, he and his team hadn’t found as much as a single hair that could be used for testing. That was unusual enough to mean wiping any trace of themselves was intentional. Obsessively so.
Which meant Xavier Vella had to have known we were onto him, then. Or at least, that we were growing suspicious. When Zeppelin and I spoke while he was still in St. Moritz, he’d raised the question of Vella’s motives in killing Mithras. I had to admit I’d wondered the same thing. My curiosity about it increased when DNA proved Mithras was Xavier’s half brother. Yet the former had both kidnapped and beaten Selene Pavia, the woman the latter clearly loved. Sociopathic sibling rivalry?
Or had Xavier committed murder because he feared that, if captured, Mithras would expose him as a member of AMPS? After hearing Selene scream, “Sheka,” when Xavier was shot and presumed to be dead, we’d, as a team, concluded he was mostly likely who the S in the acronym represented.
Knowing Xavier and Pharaoh were siblings explained certain things that had happened over the course of our investigation, but also resulted in more questions.
I thought back to the night I’d almost lost my life on Oleander’s yacht, thePernicious. Two members of the Albanian task force had died. Frick “Zig” Zigler and Drita “Qetë” Hoffman were killed when the mega yacht we were on was attacked from all sides.
Our working theory was that whoever had staged the onslaught was tipped off by Pharaoh, who was then working at the US embassy in Malta. Godwin’s connection to AMPS explained how she’d come to be there.
I shook my head and pressed my index fingers against my temples. How could either Francesca Vella or her daughter be involved in all this? It just didn’t add up. What I did know was that getting the DNA samples was the only way we could figure it out.
Pharaoh and Xavier were siblings. Salvatore was their father. Who in the bloody hell was their mother? It couldn’t be anyone other than Charlene Vella-Borg. But why was my gut telling me she wasn’t?
Not wanting to disturb Schön, I pulled out my mobile and read through my previous notes about the woman we were initially told was Xavier’s aunt.
Previously, we’d believed her brother, Marco, was Xavier’s father. He and his wife were killed in an automobile accident when “their” baby was two years old. At that time, Charlene had just divorced Tommaso Borg. The two hadn’t had children of their own, so she and her mother, Francesca, had raised the boy.
But what had happened to Charlene’s ex-husband? Was he from Gozo? Did he still live there? While we were on the island, I’d do my best to track him down. If he was still around, we needed to talk to him.
Also, what about Francesca’s husband? We knew nothing about him, either. I pressed my temples with my fingers a second time.
“What are you so deep in thought about?” Schön asked.
“Xavier and the rest of the Vella family.”
She turned toward the window, but within a few seconds, her eyes met mine again. “What about them?”
“Pardon?”
“What were you thinking about the Vellas?”
“My gut is telling me Charlene is not Xavier or Pharaoh’s mother.”
