Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

R and watched Kira exit her cousin's hotel, thankfully alone. He let out a sigh of relief and texted Freya that she was fine.

Everything about Freya's plan felt wrong. Again, he questioned whether he should play along. It seemed cruel to keep this intel from Kira. It had taken everything in him not to march into the hotel and yank her out of the guy's suite. But he'd known that would anger Kira, and she was the person he was here to protect.

To do that, he'd need her cooperation.

Now Freya wanted him to deceive her. She didn't believe Kira could maintain the fa?ade necessary to extract intel from "Andre Stoltz" if she knew the truth. And for now, Freya believed—and Rand agreed—they'd learn more by playing along than they would by confronting Andre directly.

Rand entered the bookstore where Kira had agreed to accidentally run into him and perused the shelves. As a writer doing research, he should probably pick up some books on local history. There was no shortage of those online, however, so he approached the clerk to ask what she would recommend. Which books were gems in the minds of locals?

"Which period are you most interested in?" the woman asked.

"World War II and the Cold War."

"Our WWII section is extensive, but you'll find it harder to find books dedicated to Malta's history with the Cold War, as this was a Crown Colony for much of it. However, The Malta Summit will be of interest, and we do have a book on that."

"The Malta Summit?"

"In 1989, then US President George H. W. Bush and Soviet General Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev met in Malta just after the fall of the Berlin Wall. During the meeting, the two leaders declared an end to the Cold War."

"Where did they meet? Here in Valletta?"

The woman pointed to the south, which revealed nothing but bookshelves, and said, "They met on a Soviet cruise ship chartered to a West German tour company. It was anchored near Marsaxlokk, which is a small fishing village. The seas were rough in December, and it was dubbed the ‘Seasick Summit.'"

Rand remembered reading about the summit on his flight—but he hadn't focused on that because he hadn't known of Kira's dad's efforts to find stolen art during the Cold War. He'd been more focused on the Malta Conference, a meeting in 1945 between US President Franklin D. Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, prior to their Yalta meeting with Soviet leader Joseph Stalin. That one also had a catchy name—from Malta to Yalta.

It appeared Malta was a place where US presidents came to end wars.

Now he had to wonder if any of this was somehow related to Kira's dad's work that began in a divided Germany to recover items stolen in WWII. Or was Malta just convenient for the German American and his Russian counterpart?

Rand was in the process of purchasing two history books when the shop door opened, and the tap of shoes told him Kira had arrived.

"Mr. Fallon, fancy meeting you here."

Her smooth-as-silk voice sent a ripple of pleasure through him, even though he'd been expecting her. He picked up his purchases from the counter and turned to face her. "Dr. Hanson, I insist you call me Rand."

She grinned and took a step toward him. "And you must call me Dr. Hanson."

He laughed.

She nodded toward his purchases. "Research for your novel?"

"Yes. Malta is an interesting crossroads for summits. I like the political intrigue. And you really can't beat the setting. What brings you here?"

"I hear they have a good selection of books on art and architecture. I figured as long as I was walking by…" Her voice drifted and her gaze strayed to a table of hardcover new releases.

Rand's heart thudded as he saw the title her gaze had landed on. He reached for the book. "You like this author?" He picked up the book. Hardcover with a glossy dust jacket, it had heft. He felt warm in the air-conditioned store.

"I started reading the author's first book on my flight. I haven't finished it, but I was thinking I might get the new release if I like the ending."

"So you're enjoying it?"

"Yes. It's a bit choppy in places. You can tell it's the author's first book, but it's also a fun escape, which I desperately needed on my flight."

He turned and placed the book on the counter. "This is my gift to you, then."

"But I haven't finished the first book. What if I don't like it?"

"You will."

"You've read it?"

"I have. It's quite good. And the second book is even better."

"The military details hold up?" She tripped a bit on that question, and he knew why. His military background was not to be discussed in public, but the bookstore clerk was safe enough.

"Yes. One of the best I've read in that regard."

"I'm going to be pissed if the female lead ends up dead."

He ran his fingers over his lips as if he were zipping them closed. "No spoilers from me."

He was eager to hear what she thought of the woman's ambiguous fate.

He completed the purchase and added the book to his bag. "Do you want to look at the art and architecture books?"

She shook her head. "Actually, I want a break from art and research. I want to do something touristy. I was thinking of heading down to the water and paying for a ride on one of the historic boats—luzzu, I think they're called—that cross the harbor to Fort St. Angelo. Care to join me?" She nodded toward the paper bag stuffed with books. "We can drop the books at the hotel on the way."

He wanted to believe this was a spontaneous request, but nothing about Kira's plans was spontaneous. Still, he was glad she was taking him with her. He couldn't protect her from across the water, and the revelation that an impostor had presented himself to Kira as her cousin convinced Rand she was in very real danger.

T he breeze on the water was heavenly. Kira took off her sun hat, unclipped her hair, and let the wind tangle her shoulder-length strands. They shared the small vessel with a British couple and their two teenage children, and they all paid extra euros for the full "harbor tour," which was an extra fifteen minutes or so on the water before disembarking in Birgu on the other side of Grand Harbor.

On land again, Rand settled Kira's sun hat back on her head and looked down at her in a way that made her belly flutter. She fought the urge to lean into him and forced herself to step away. She had a decision to make when it came to Rand. Was he here for her or for Freya and the Navy?

He wanted her, sure, but where were his orders coming from? What if her father was guilty of something that would make it impossible for Kira to pass a background check and get the security clearance needed to work for FMV as more than a consultant?

The man was dead, but that didn't mean his hidden legacy couldn't hurt her.

They set out toward Fort St. Angelo, and Rand's hand caught hers. It felt so natural, it took her a moment to remember she needed to put distance between them.

Consultant and client. Those were their roles.

She slipped her hand from his. "How was your morning?"

"Lonely. Yours?"

"Lovely."

"You didn't miss me like I missed you?"

She snorted. "Since when do you miss me? You don't even know me." She had to remind herself of that. Even though she felt like she knew him, it didn't make it true.

"I've made no secret that I want to know you. I have since the day we met."

She knew that was true, but still, she had to poke at him. "I'm sure Staci would be hurt to know that." That should buy her the distance she wanted.

He came to a dead stop and faced her, unflinching. "She does know. I dropped her off at her place that night and went right back to Morgan's after I spotted your car."

Her flush had nothing to do with the heat. "You saw me?"

"I did, and I'm glad you brought it up, because I want to explain."

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Lieuten—Mr. Fallon. Your sex life is your business. You don't owe me anything.

"Rand. And you brought it up."

She resumed walking. "Because I want distance between us. And sure, you were interested in December and now. But in between, I wasn't on your radar."

"I didn't ghost you."

She paused, then resumed walking again. He was right. She wasn't being fair. "I know you didn't."

"Good. And as far as Staci goes, she and I dated for several months about two years ago. It didn't take long before we both realized it was just a friends-with-benefits thing that was going nowhere. After a time, we became friends without benefits. At Morgan's baby shower, she was hurting after a bad breakup, and I was…there. She asked me if I wanted to take her home, and stupidly, I said yes. Outside, she kissed me and made it clear that all she wanted was sex, like old times. And for a moment, I thought I could do that. Then I saw your car."

They'd walked uphill from the marina and had been working their way toward the fort. Now they were in an alley, thankfully shaded due to the narrow width and angle of the sun.

She continued walking, then realized he wasn't beside her. She stopped and faced him, meeting his piercing blue gaze.

He stepped toward her. She took a step back, coming up against a limestone brick wall. He planted his right hand on the wall and leaned into her. "The truth is, I haven't even gone on a date since we met. I haven't wanted to because no one else was"—his voice dropped to a whisper—"you."

He planted his left hand on the other side, trapping her. "So now that I've confessed how I feel— again —I have a question for you. Who is Apollo, and am I in competition with him?"

Of all the things she might have expected him to say, that wasn't even in the same universe. Her throat went dry. Or maybe the heat of the day simply caught up with her. "What did Freya tell you?"

His head tipped back, brows furrowing. "Freya? Why would Freya say anything? Is he someone who works for FMV?"

"If it wasn't Freya, then who told you about Apollo?" Had her father emailed him?

"You did. When I found you last December. You were out of it and said I look like your love, Apollo."