“You won’t kill me?”
“Do you traffic women and sell children to predators?”
“No!” He made a horrified face.
“Do you murder innocent people?”
“No. I’ve never killed anyone. I steal from monopolized corporations and give the money to people who need it.” He rolled his lips. “And I like pretty dancers. But I don’t…I would never hurt a woman. I just like to give them my painted eggs.”
Her chest swelled with hope, but she felt the tension in the car. Everyone was on edge, holding their breaths. There was so much at stake, hinging on an eccentric, fearful teenage boy.
He lowered his feet to the floorboard and leaned toward her, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“I found a back door last year.” He raised his dark eyes to her, his accent thickening. “I’m already inside the mafia’s network.”
Her pulse took off, dancing through her veins. She was so strung out, so anxious and overjoyed she thought she might puke.
“Help us.” She lifted a trembling hand to his hairless jaw and let him see the tears welling in her eyes. “Please.”
“What will you do with the video?”
“Twelve years ago, it was turned into the NSA. I don’t know who saw the footage, but they did nothing. They covered it up and let it fall into the hands of the mafia. I’m reluctant to trust anyone in the government, especially now that Vincent Barrington is five days from becoming our President.” She drew a breath. “I was hoping you could disperse it, broadcast it all over the Internet, make it impossible to cover up. Americans need to know who they voted into office.”
He leaned back and stared out the window, watching buildings and street signs blur by. “Turn left here and head north. There’s a Starbucks up the road. They have a strong WIFI signal.”
As Tiago veered left and followed PaulVer’s directions, Cole called Matias and told him where to go.
“Thank you.” Her ribs expanded with the unstoppable release of years of pent-up emotion.
A tear escaped, running down her cheek, and Cole moved in, gripping the back of her head and kissing away the salty river.
“I’m sorry.” She laughed uncomfortably. “It’s a long time coming, and I’m emotional.”
“A moment I don’t want to miss.” He touched his forehead to hers.
Tiago pulled into the vacant parking lot of Starbucks and parked behind the building. Matias pulled in beside him.
There, PaulVer sat in the SUV with his laptop and dug through the mafia’s network files. She’d given him her father’s name and every keyword she could conjure, which he loaded into his software program to scan the mafia’s metadata.
Then they waited on pins and needles.
Most of them stood outside the vehicles behind the building. Out of view of the street, they watched and listened for the Romanian police.
The sirens never came.
Three hours later, PaulVer stepped out of the SUV and handed her the laptop. “I think this is it.”
She stared down at the paused video, her stomach twisting in knots. “Did you watch it?”
“Yes.” He frowned, his face appearing older somehow. “It’s bloody. Definitely Vincent Barrington committing murder.”
“You don’t have to watch it.” Cole cupped her jaw, pulling her gaze to his. “Once you see it, you’ll carry the image with you for the rest of your life.”
“My imagination can’t be much better.” She pressed play and clutched Cole’s strong hand.
On the screen, her dad walked through a hotel room and opened the door. Vincent stepped in as her dad shook his head, speaking rapidly.
“There’s no sound?” Her voice shook.
“No,” PaulVer said.
Her dad looked calm, albeit a little surprised and annoyed to see Vincent. When the door shut behind Vincent, it happened fast. Vincent pulled a knife from behind him and slashed it across her dad’s throat. A clean cut, deep and fast.
He hadn’t seen it coming, which meant he trusted the man.
If she had to guess, her dad had set up the video recording because he was expecting a visitor. Possibly the Russian informant he was supposed to meet. When Vincent showed up, he probably didn’t want him there because he was expecting someone else.
He wasn’t expecting to die. Richard Pictam had taught her everything she knew about combat fighting, weaponry, and self-defense. No one could get the drop on him. Unless he trusted them.
Regardless, the video quality was perfect, the identities on the footage irrefutable.
“That’s him.” Tears quivered through her voice. “Give it to the world.”
Cole wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her tight as PaulVer switched screens on the laptop and hit a button on one of his software programs.
“It’s sending now.” He bounced a little on his toes. “It’s hitting social media platforms, major news networks, and government agencies all over the world. Inboxes everywhere are receiving the file. It’s done.”
“Thank you.” She pulled away from Cole and flung her arms around PaulVer’s neck. “Thank you so damn much.”
When she pulled away, the kid blushed and stared at his feet.
She turned back to Cole, and he was right there, waiting, smiling with two gorgeous, irresistible dimples.
“It’s over,” she whispered.
“It’s only just begun.” He caught her nape and hauled her in, taking her mouth with pure and vulnerable passion.
In his kiss was heartbreak and risk and choice and chance and a million dreams all condensed into a moment.
A moment hard-won.
In his kiss, she won love.
Dublin, Ireland
Two weeks later
Lydia visited the house in Dublin 22 one more time. She thought she needed the closure, but now she didn’t know. Her heart was a mess.
“I don’t know why I’m here.” She paced through the small kitchen, looking around for anything she might want to keep.
“Do you want to go through his clothes?” Cole sat at the table, watching her steadily.
She and Mike didn’t own anything. No pictures. No clothes worth keeping. Nothing of value. Instead of collecting material objects, she’d collected tattoos. Her memories of him were inked on her body. She had the egg Mike painted, and she kept the image of his lopsided smile safely in her mind. That was all she needed.
There hadn’t been a funeral service. No big send-off. After she had him cremated, she and Cole flew to London, stood on the Westminster Bridge in the moonlight, and poured Mike’s ashes in the River Thames.
She let her brother go.
“I’m still trying to come to terms with it all.”
“There’s no hurry, Lydia. Take your time, and I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way.”
He hadn’t left her side since the night they released the video. PaulVer had done exactly what he’d said. The video went viral, and within twenty-four hours, Vincent Barrington was arrested for murder.
She and Cole had been glued to the news stations for the past two weeks, watching the drama unfold as Vincent was handcuffed and hauled away. The trial would make history. Those in the NSA who covered up his crimes would be named and charged, too.