The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит

      Lena blinked and then put the heels of her hands to her eyes in a gesture he knew of old.

      ‘I don’t remember,’ she whispered.

      ‘I know.’

      ‘Then isn’t it time you told me why we’re here?’

      ‘We’re here to find Jared.’

      ‘And then what?’

      ‘And then we leave.’

      ‘Doesn’t sound like much of a job.’

      ‘Finding him’s the catch.’

      ‘Jericho3,’ she murmured.

      ‘I had Damon do some digging. The owner’s a billionaire arms dealer. Russian.’

      ‘Specialising in what?’

      ‘Everything.’

      ‘And that’s where you think Jared is?’

      ‘Best guess. Truth is, I don’t know. He could be undercover. He might not want to break cover. He might not be able to break cover.’

      ‘If Jared’s undercover, why does he want to see us at all?’

      ‘Didn’t say he did. We’re the ones pushing for contact.’

      ‘But why?’

      ‘The old you is concerned for Jared’s safety. He hasn’t been in contact for a while.’

      ‘Are you concerned for his safety?’ Lena asked bluntly.

      ‘Not as concerned as you.’

      ‘Are ASIS concerned for his safety?’ Trig hesitated, and Lena drew a ragged breath. ‘Trig? Tell me Jared’s not working off the grid.’

      ‘Can’t tell you that.’

      She put her hand to her head. ‘But he is reporting to someone. To you.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘How long since anyone’s seen him?’

      ‘It’s been a while.’

      ‘Trig, how long?’

      ‘Nineteen months.’

      ‘What?’ She didn’t understand. Her confusion was visible, palpable, and so was her anxiety. He reached for her and she went to him, still trusting him as he wrapped his arms around her.

      ‘How could we get married without him being there?’ Her words were muffled by his chest but Trig heard them anyway. He could have come clean then. We’re not married, he could have said.

      But he didn’t.

      ‘Copper-haired girl said a woman and kid come in off that floating fortress once a week to attend a hospital appointment, regular as clockwork. They’re due in today. Copper-haired girl said they come with bodyguards. There’ll be someone to pilot the cruiser. I’ve tried to let Jared know we’re here. Someone’s clearing his phone messages. Might not be Jared, but if it is, he knows we’re here and he’ll do what he can to contact us.’

      ‘You think he’ll be part of the crew that’s coming in today?’

      ‘If he can be.’

      ‘And if he’s not?’

      ‘I take you home. Come back alone. Try and get an invite aboard Jericho3.’

      ‘No!’ Lena’s arms tightened around his waist. ‘I’m not losing you too.’

      ‘Lena—’

      ‘No. If Jared can’t get off that boat we put someone on watch here and we go home and pull Poppy and Damon into the picture and plan from there. You don’t get to be the idiot my brother is. I won’t let you.’

      ‘God, I love the new you.’ Trig lifted her and set her gently on the stone wall and she wrapped her legs around him and her arms around him as if she’d never let him go.

      ‘Good, because I’m beginning to think that the old me was a fool.’ Her eyes were grey this morning, a clear and guileless grey. ‘I love you. These secrets you keep from me, they don’t change that.’

      He kissed her so that he wouldn’t have to speak.

      Because the secret he still held... The one that sat like acid in his gut...

      That little revelation was primed to destroy both their worlds and he had no one to blame but himself.

       TEN

      ‘I don’t like it,’ Lena said at nine forty-five a.m. as they stood at the base of the eastern wall of Bodrum castle. Beyond the wall, a wharf teemed with tourists. Beyond that, a dozen tourist boats bobbed gently on the water.

      ‘Plenty of cover,’ said Trig. ‘Lots of exits.’

      ‘Lots of women and kids,’ countered Lena grumpily. ‘We don’t know what kind of watercraft they’ll be coming in on or when. What if we miss them?’

      ‘The craft is going to be ocean-going, expensive, and the woman and kid have bodyguards. They won’t be hard to spot, Lena. They’re just not here yet.’

      ‘I hate waiting,’ she muttered. ‘What time is it?’

      ‘Nine-fifty.’

      They’d been there since seven thirty, playing tourists, finding seats, taking pictures of the castle. The wharf was a beautiful, bustling place to have breakfast, but breakfast was long gone and nervousness was taking hold. ‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ she said. ‘And I don’t even know why. Something’s off.’ She looked up at Trig and didn’t miss the swift flash of humour in his eyes. ‘And don’t say I don’t have enough gut left to have gut instincts, because you’re wrong. Half the touts here haven’t taken their eyes off us for at least half an hour. They can ID us.’

      ‘Why would they need to? We haven’t done anything,’ said Trig, and pulled her to her feet and slung his arm around her shoulder and guided her towards the tourist day boats—the ones that went out at ten and returned late in the afternoon. ‘We’re not going to do anything.’

      Ten minutes later they’d reached the end of the wharf and there was still no sign of Jared. They stopped and looked out over the water. ‘How’s your leg?’ asked Trig.

      ‘Aches like a bitch.’

      ‘And the rest of you?’ Trig had a hand to the back of his neck and he would not meet her gaze. ‘Does that ache too?’

      ‘You mean from the sex?’

      Trig cleared his throat and a slow flush crept up his neck. ‘Yeah.’

      ‘Those particular aches and pains were hard earned and I’m savouring every one of them,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t believe I forgot how truly talented you are. Or how responsive.’

      Trig looked as if he wanted to disappear. ‘Hey,’ she cajoled softly. ‘I’m really sorry I couldn’t remember any of it. I should have been able to, because it was mind-blowing. I’m saying this just in case you happen to have any performance anxiety left and in case it was connected to me not remembering our lovemaking. Trust me, your lovemaking is not something a woman would ever strive to forget.’

      He laughed at that. A curt, embarrassed bark, cut short when his attention snagged on something out in the bay.

      ‘What is it? Is it Jared?’ Nineteen months since they’d last seen Jared, Trig had said, and all of a sudden Lena fiercely needed to see him and know that he was alive.

      ‘Three hundred metres to the left of the tall ship,’ murmured Trig. ‘Six-seater orange power racer. Huge.’

      Lena