The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит

lira, because I like you. And I’ll tell you stories about Bodrum night life along the way.’

      Lena glanced at Trig. ‘Means I don’t have to walk to the castle. I’m good with this.’

      ‘How are you going to get into the boat?’

      ‘Slowly. Possibly with your help. As in you go first and then when I look like I’m going to fall, you catch me. It’s all part of my asking-for-help-if-I-need-it plan. You like this plan, I hasten to add.’

      ‘How do you know?’

      ‘Because you said so.’

      ‘You remember that?’

      Lena frowned. ‘Not as a specific memory. More of a general knowledge thing. Why? Am I wrong? Are you on a quest to make me more independent?’

      ‘No.’ The girl bumped the boat against the ladder. Trig climbed down and drew Lena down after him, hands to her waist as he lifted her from the ladder into the cruiser. ‘You want help, I’m your man.’

      ‘Nice,’ said the girl approvingly, and winked at Lena. ‘What’d you do to your leg?’

      ‘Stuffed it,’ Lena said. ‘And the hip. And parts of the spine.’

      The girl started the motor. ‘You should sit. I’ll go slow. Even when I’m out of the marina.’

      ‘Do me a favour, and don’t,’ said Lena, coming to stand by the girl. ‘I’m thinking of buying a speedboat. I want to feel how my body holds up to a bit of speed.’

      ‘You got it,’ said the girl, and when they cleared the marina and turned towards Bodrum castle she gunned it. Lena stood beside her, one hand on the back of the pilot’s seat and the other on the top of the windscreen.

      She wasn’t even trying to seduce him, decided Trig darkly. She was simply being her old self—the one who saw opportunity at every turn and seized it. The one who only had to look at him and smile in order to seduce him.

      She was looking back at him now, her hair whipping across her face. That smile. That one right there.

      ‘I can do this,’ she said.

      ‘See how you pull up tomorrow.’

      Her eyes dimmed but her chin came up and he loved that about her too. Never tell Lena she couldn’t do something, because she’d do it just to prove you wrong.

      ‘This is the castle,’ said the girl over the roar of the engines. ‘It was built by the Knights Hospitaller, otherwise known as The Knights of the Order of St John. They called it St Peter’s Castle and it served as a refuge and stronghold for all the Christians in the land and beyond. Later, the castle was surrendered to Sultan Suleiman and became a mosque. That got destroyed by the French in World War One, and then it became a museum. Take a tour. Very special.’

      ‘What about the things you don’t learn on castle tours?’ Trig asked. ‘There’s a lot of money floating in this bay. Where does it all come from?’

      The girl shot him a sharp glance. Trig did his best to look harmless.

      ‘Tourists,’ she said finally. ‘Hedonists. The pleasure seekers of Eastern Europe. You can indulge in anything here, for a price. Many people come to do just that.’

      ‘Is the crime organised?’

      ‘Very.’

      ‘Who are the main players?’

      ‘Turks. Russians.’

      ‘Any Asians?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Ever heard of a boat called the Jericho3?’

      ‘I got no business with anyone connected to the Jericho3,’ their copper-haired pilot offered grimly. ‘I like to keep it that way.’

      ‘Know where we can find it?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t need to know.’

      ‘I can’t help you, man. Little matter of staying alive.’

      ‘No problem.’ Trig smiled easily. Harmless. See? ‘Tell us about the night life. Tourist stuff only.’

      The girl told them about open-air night clubs that backed onto the sea. She told them about the live music and the bars, the street parties and light shows. She dropped them off at the wharf below the castle’s eastern walls and Trig paid her and tipped well, and told her she didn’t need to take them any further and her sunny smile reappeared.

      ‘You had me worried, big guy.’

      ‘Don’t be.’

      Her eyes narrowed. ‘That vessel you mentioned. How much do you know about it?’

      ‘I have a name. I have a friend who might be on it.’

      ‘By choice?’

      Trig shrugged.

      The girl shook her head. ‘It’s a mega yacht, with helicopters, a defence system, and a seventy-strong crew, most of them Russian. Thirty or so guest rooms. Not everyone’s a guest.’

      ‘I don’t see anything like that here.’

      ‘It stays offshore. Nice and private out there.’

      ‘How does it refuel?’

      ‘Tanker.’

      ‘Anyone ever come in off it?’

      ‘A woman and a kid. They go to the hospital here once a week, regular as clockwork.’

      ‘Which day?’

      ‘Tomorrow. Look for a power cruiser coming in to this wharf around ten a.m.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      ‘You seem nice,’ she said. ‘Don’t be a dead man.’ And then she got under way.

      ‘Guess that saves us walking past a thousand small sailing yachts,’ said Lena. ‘Really wasn’t looking forward to that.’

      Trig snorted. ‘I can’t believe you just admitted that.’

      ‘What? That walking more than a mile or so wears me out?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘It’s hardly a secret.’

      ‘I know. But you usually don’t like admitting it.’

      ‘I’m older and wiser now. I also don’t mind admitting complete ignorance as to why we’re here. You do realise that I can’t remember anything about why that yacht is so important? Or who you think might be on it.’

      ‘I realise.’

      ‘Care to share?’

      ‘Not really. Honeymoon, remember?’

      ‘I do remember.’ Lena stared up at the towering castle. ‘That is a big castle.’

      ‘I know. The view from the top of that turret is going to be great.’

      ‘Maybe if I had a week,’ she joked dryly. ‘I used to have a healthy relationship with steps. Now they just send me weak in the knees.’

      ‘I’ll carry you,’ he heard himself suggest.

      ‘That’ll wear you out,’ she said. ‘Let’s just see a bit of the museum.’

      They managed to get through half of one wing of the museum before closing time. They took it easy and avoided steps.

      And Lena wore herself out anyway.

      ‘Aches don’t count if you had fun getting them,’ she told him as they waited for their ride back to the hotel. ‘It also makes relaxing at the end of the day so good. Please tell me it’s the end of the day.’