Page 21 of Gabriel (Legacy of Heathens #4)

Amara

I stepped onto the yacht, running on fumes while dirt crusted on my skin and sweat dried like a second layer. All I wanted was a shower hot enough to burn and a bed cold enough to soothe my aching muscles.

But first, I had to see Elira.

I found her in the office, hunched over her tablet, glasses sliding down her nose, brow creased in deep concentration. The light from the screen carved sharp angles into her face.

I stood in the doorway, studying the mess surrounding her.

There were cables snaked across the floor like vines, maps pinned to mahogany paneling, and a computer screen glowing on the wall.

The air smelled of salt, metal, and stale electronics.

The low hum of the engine vibrated faintly through the floorboards.

Out of the small, salt-flecked porthole, dusk had begun to paint the sky in smudges of lavender.

“Hey,” I said, my voice rough as gravel.

Her head snapped up. She blinked once, took me in, then grimaced. “Hey, you. Christ, you look like hell.”

“Appreciate the warm welcome,” I muttered, dropping into the seat across from her. “Turns out I’m not in as good shape as I thought.”

She scoffed, pulling off her glasses and tossing them on the table. “What are you talking about? We backpacked across Europe for months.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t compare to a goddamn jungle and coming face-to-face with Gabriel.”

She leaned back in her chair, the corners of her mouth twitching. Her hair was pulled into a tight, no-nonsense bun as she sported one of her many “don’t screw with me” looks.

“Well,” she said dryly, “guess the jungle won. So how did the encounter with the Colombian go?”

I tilted my head, studying her. “As you might expect.”

“What did you learn? Any clues about Jet?” she questioned. I reached inside my pocket and handed her the device, the decoded message still on the screen. She read it, then lifted her head. “What does it mean?”

I shrugged. “I guess we need to get to that location with Santos.”

“And where is that location?”

“We need to trace it on the map,” I said, standing up and making my way to the wall.

She stood as I crossed the room to the map pinned to the far wall. My finger slid along the faded lines, tracing the latitude and longitude until it landed at its target.

A long exhale left me. “No way.”

She was suddenly behind me. “Where?”

I stepped back. “South Albania. Coastline.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Albania,” she repeated, like the word tasted off.

I nodded. “Why the hell would Jet send us into Kian’s territory?”

Elira gave a low scoff. “Kian’s influence stretches past Albania.”

“Sure, but that’s where he lives. And Jet knows that. For fuck’s sake, you two grew up there.”

She didn’t flinch. “Maybe that’s the point. Jet knows every back alley and hidden route in that country.”

My gaze stayed on the cracked map.

“Yes, I guess that makes sense.” I turned to her. “Did you get anything while I was gone?”

She shook her head. “Nothing solid.”

“Nothing?” My brows drew in. “Come on, not even a lead?”

She shrugged. “Nada. Zip.”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. I could barely think straight. “Well, then we’re left with no other option but to kidnap Santos. Then we’ll figure out what he’s up to with Jet and get him to the coordinates that Jet left for us.”

Elira’s tone shifted and her expression turned sly. “Speaking of Santos…”

“Oh boy.”

“I have an effective method of kidnapping.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“You want to hear it?”

“Not really, but go on.”

“I kiss Santos with a poisonous lipstick. Unfortunately, it won’t kill him, but it’ll paralyze him just long enough for extraction.”

I stared at her, images of Elira kissing Santos flashing through my mind like a nightmare. My stomach churned with revulsion and I knew I’d never allow it.

“What do you think?” she asked eagerly.

“No.”

“What? It’s efficient.”

“It’s psychotic.”

“Thank you.”

I sighed. “I have dinner with him”—I glanced at the clock—“in a couple of hours. I’ll handle it without involving deadly lipstick.”

She gave a theatrical eye roll. “Boring.”

“Effective,” I shot back, already walking toward the door. “We’ll talk about the details after I get some shut-eye.”

Without waiting for her reply, I headed to my cabin, peeled off my boots, and collapsed face-first onto the bed.

“Just a minute,” I mumbled to the empty room. “One minute, then I’ll shower…”

Sleep swallowed me whole before I could finish the sentence, shower forgotten.