Lap of Luxury (Love Don't Cost a Thing)

k door. Before I jump in, I swipe a pair of binoculars that have fallen out of a dead guard’s hand.

Mikhail guns the engine. As we speed along the drive toward the road, I peer through the back window with the binoculars. There’s movement up in the dunes. I focus on the dark shape, and see a man. I recognize his healing face. The last time I saw him, Damir was beating him to a pulp.

Ciara’s breathing is rough and frightened. “He found us already. I can’t believe he found us already.”

“It’s not Damir,” I tell them hoarsely. “It’s Lucan Navarro.” He survived, and he’s followed Damir right to Mikhail. We’ve got not one but two revenge-obsessed maniacs out for our blood. I should enjoy the sunshine while I can, because this is the last day I’ll ever see.

Mikhail thumps the steering wheel and curses out his brother. The sniper raises his gun again, and aims right at us. I gasp and drop the binoculars.

“Get down!” I dive for Ciara and flatten her across the back seat, just before a gunshot explodes in our ears.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Damir

There’s gunfire on the beach.

Boris has brought the yacht as close to shore as possible and I watch through binoculars as Mikhail, Ciara and Bethany jump out of the SUV, crouch low and run back into the house. A sniper up in the dunes has blown their tires out. The belting I gave him several weeks ago is still evident on his face.

I want to kill Mikhail and Ciara with my own hands, and now Lucan Navarro is going to get there first.

“Get me a sniper rifle,” I call over to my shoulder to Boris, and he sprints off down the deck. I peer through the binoculars once more, my hands sweaty.

Cold dread formed in my belly the moment I woke up this morning and saw that Bethany wasn’t in bed beside me. She might have just been out by the pool or sitting at the breakfast table, but somehow I knew she was gone. She was squeamish about Mikhail and Ciara. I knew it, and I should have locked her in, for her own protection. If she’d died getting to Mikhail…

I take a deep breath, pushing away the terrible thought. She’s still alive, and I’m going to get her back.

Boris puts a sniper rifle into my hands, and I load it and look through the scope. Motherfucker. The sniper in the dunes has disappeared, probably ducking down behind the cresting sand. I pan slowly to the left, across the house with all its curtains pulled closed, and to the dunes on the other side. There’s movement there. A sniper who hasn’t concealed himself. He’s right in my crosshairs. I breathe out slowly, and depress the trigger.

The gunshot cracks loudly over the water. The sniper goes rigid, and disappears from view.

One down. Now, where the fuck is Navarro?

As I pan over the house, I see that there’s one window where the curtains haven’t been pulled quite tight. My finger leaps for the trigger, but I realize I can’t fire into the house because I might hit Bethany. I’ll have to get closer. I switch out the sniper for a more durable AK-47 and strap it to my back. I’m going to have to swim for it.

“I’ll come with you,” Boris says.

“No,” I growl, tossing him the sniper. “You and the men stay on the yacht, and cover me. There’s still at least one sniper up in the dunes.”

I take off my shoes and socks, swing my legs over the side, and jump. The water is warm and clear, and I break the surface. It’s several hundred yards to the beach and I set off with a strong freestyle stroke, heading a little to the west so that I approach via the dunes with the dead sniper. There’s a scrubby hillock, and I hurry toward it, and then creep low through the bushes toward the house.

A magnolia tree is growing close to the house, and I climb the branches and pull myself quietly up onto the roof. From here I can reach the bedroom windows. Bethany is inside. Once I go in, will she come to me, or will she cower behind Mikhail for protection? Will she try to protect Ciara, and beg for their lives?

I pull the AK-47 rifle off my back, smash the window in and climb quickly inside. I’m in the master bedroom by the looks of it, and I crouch behind the bed for a moment, wondering if the breaking glass has alerted them. There are no shouts or footsteps, so I creep toward the stairs. I can hear Bethany and Mikhail talking downstairs.

“…the hell are Navarro’s men doing here?” Mikhail asks angrily.

“They must have followed us out through the Suez Canal. I told you Damir robbed his villa for those jewels. This has been his grand tour of revenge, and it started with killing Georgios for jilting Nataša.”

Another female voice asks, “Did someone kill Nataša? And why didn’t you ever tell me you had a sister?”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the guts. It’s like he’s wanted to erase our entire family from his memory. If none of this had happened, I wonder how long it would have been before he erased me from his life, too. I can’t wait any longer to come face-to-face with my dear, beloved brother.

Keeping low, I edge out of the bedroom and along the short hall, walk slowly down half a dozen steps and sit on the staircase. None of them notice me. Bethany’s standing on the far side of the room, looking sickly and afraid, her black curly hair wild with salt. There are scrapes on her forehead and cheeks. Mikhail and Ciara have their backs to me.

Mikhail utters a growl of rage. “It all happened so long ago. My fucking brother just had to pull off that scab.”

I speak lazily from the stairs. “Your fucking brother just wants people who’ve wronged him to pay.”