The Negotiator (Professionals 7)

“Code?” I asked, brows furrowing.

“Yes, code. For a situation such as this. My crew and I all have turns of phrase, little sayings that, when said in a high-pressure situation such as kidnapping or hostage-holding, we can use to communicate details of the situation.”

“Unfortunately, I had not thought of that before.”

“When he gets home, that is something you will want to implement. Even if you plan to ramp up security. This is the nature of your business. It comes with certain risks, and preparing for them is important. Now, what are you willing to give him? Because, Mr. Adamos, you are going to have to give him something.”

“Athens, Mykonos, and Lindos.”

“You would give up Athens with your brother schooling there?”

“My brother will learn to endure homeschooling in the future.”

“Probably smart. And those are a good start. But you know he is going to want Santorini. It’s one of the biggest tourist spots.”

“He can’t have Santorini.”

“Because you live here? Because it will make you look weak to everyone who answers to you?”

“Yes. You want to see chaos, let the employees think the boss will let them do whatever they want. My brother will not stand a chance. Neither will I. Some order must be kept. He can’t have Santorini.”

“Okay,” she said, exhaling hard. “I will see what I can do. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Chernev will not forget your face,” I warned her. “And he makes one hell of an enemy.”

To that, a slow, cocky smirk pulled at her lips. “Haven’t you heard, Mr. Adamos? I’ve made powerful allies all over this world. I’ve had Easter dinner with the likes of men that would make even Atanas Chernev piss his pants. He puts a mark on my head, he puts a mark on his own.”

“Is that a threat, Miller?” I asked, feeling my lips twitch up ever so slightly.

“It is an important piece of information to have.”

She reached across the table, taking my frappe that I hadn’t touched, taking a long sip of it herself.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I reached for it, finding a message.

“What?” she asked, reading my reaction.

“Bellamy. He says he has a job. And has bought me a week with your boss.”

“He left me here.”

It wasn’t a question.

I answered anyway.

“It’s just you and me.”

It was supposed to be a threat.

It sounded a hell of a lot like a promise.

FOUR

Miller

I guess I couldn’t have expected a nice little bed and breakfast. Or even to move further from shore and stay at a hotel.

Nope.

I probably should have anticipated being grabbed by the arm again and led up the endless stairs of Santorini, feeling my thighs burn mercilessly while Christopher seemed not to notice the strain on his muscles at all.

“Okay, enough,” I grumbled, yanking my arm roughly away, surprising Christopher enough to release me.

I worked out.

Grudgingly.

Not nearly as much as some of my teammates.

But I did it.

I made a promise to my poor, aching lungs to do more of it once I got back home.

Because I was sweaty and half-bent forward, hands on my knees, trying to get some air.

“Don’t give me that look,” I demanded.

“You can’t even see me to know what look I may or may not be giving you.”

“I can feel it,” I insisted.

“You’ll get used to the stairs,” he assured me, a hint of what seemed suspiciously like humor in his voice.

“I understand the donkeys now,” I said, having scoffed at them just twenty minutes before.

Really, I just needed a minute. I was still dehydrated and hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. I wasn’t in my best form.

But either Christopher doubted my abilities to pull it together, or he simply grew impatient.

Because the next thing I knew, an arm was under my knees, another across my back, and I was yanked up off my feet, and pulled to Christopher’s chest.

“Put me down,” I demanded, but I wasn’t entirely sure how much conviction was even in my voice.

Now, whether that was from exhaustion or that it was surprisingly nice to be held in a strong, gorgeous man’s arms was anyone’s guess.

But, of course, I was going to assure myself it was the former.

“You won’t make it up another set. And we have five more to go.”

“You live at the very top of the hill, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do,” I mumbled, trying not to get too mesmerized studying his jaw. It could cut glass, it was so sharp.

“It has tactical advantages.”

“Like your enemies dying of heart attacks attempting to reach you.”

“There is that,” he agreed, lips twitching. “And me and my men can see everything going on below us. No one can sneak up. It is the safest place on the island.”

If I was going to be a hostage, at least I knew I was going to be safe from outside threats.

And, let’s face it, men who meant you harm generally didn’t carry you up several flights of stairs.