Page 105 of Risky Obsession

“This is the same,” Kane said, gliding his finger over the line drawing of the lion’s mane.

“Did you know this drawing was made by Hitler?” I said, shifting my attention to the lion’s eye.

Kane blinked at me. “Really?”

“It’s true. Hitler wanted to be an artist.”

“I knew that about him.” He huffed. “If only he’d followed that path.”

“Right? Keep looking.” I leaned back over the maps but felt the heat of Kane’s gaze on me. I cleared my throat. “Did you know Hermann Goering had lions for pets during the war?”

“What?” Kane scoffed. “Now you’re making things up.”

“It’s true. He used his position with the Nazis to get pet lions. He borrowedthem from the Berlin Zoo and kept them at Carinhall or in his house at Obersalzberg in Bavaria. He received small lion cubs and raised them until they were too big to handle, then he’d return them to the zoo.” I leaned further over the maps, studying the lion’s face. “He had several lions during the early 1930s.”

Kane remained silent but I could feel him watching me.

“You’re staring,” I muttered, examining each line of the lion’s ear.

“It’s just . . . I’m sorry I doubted you.”

I cocked my head at him. “What?”

“When I was told you had knowledge of this gold, I doubted you could know more than me. I’m sorry for misjudging you.”

My chest nearly caved.

“I’m really impressed,” he said.

I wanted to correct him and tell him that my knowledge came from four days of intense studying of Yasmin’s father’s journals. My information was real, but none of it was mine.

Can my guilt get any heavier?

Kane released a tiny noise that dragged me from my mental cesspit. He pointed at the map. “Do you see this?”

I leaned with him, peering at the map. Inside the lion’s eye was an X.

“That’s not on the embossing on the gold bar.” I pointed at the page with the photo. Each of the two maps only had one stroke of the X. Without the two maps overlapping, the symbol was invisible.

“X marks the spot,” Kane said. “Where is that?” He used his phone to search Google Maps. “Looks like Cuxhaven. You heard of it?”

“No. Where is it?”

“It’s situated at the mouth of the Elbe River where it flows into the North Sea.”

“Oh my god.” My heart thundered as a piece of our puzzle slotted into place. “Three hundred of these gold bars were put onto a submarine called theKashaletwhich was reported to have sunk in Leningrad, January 1945. But theKashaletbriefly resurfaced in the Elbe River near Hamburg in March 1945.”

“The Elbe River,” he repeated. “Holy shit, Tory. That can’t be a coincidence. This has to be the clue.”

I tugged my lips into my mouth, trying to hold back my excitement. My heart raced as I faced him. “This is amazing.”

His gaze locked on mine, and the desire in his eyes made my heart soar. “You’re amazing.”

“Kane . . .”

We stared at each other for one heartbeat too long.

He pulled me toward him, his hands firm on my waist.