Page 16

Mia

“First thing’s first,” Dillon says matter-of-factly. “Let’s get you set up with a new phone.” I watch him as he extracts a rather industrious looking black container from a storage area toward the front of the plane. Inside are a handful of new iPhones, various cords, and chargers.

I’d almost forgotten about my phone completely. I hadn’t missed it to be honest, but without it, how would I be in contact with the kidnappers if and when we find the cuff?

While Dillon is working to download my data, I glance at the team. I half expect them to be openly judging us; it’s no secret Dillon and I slept together last night. However, each one of them is acting in their usual manner. Midas is on his laptop, Legion has a GPS at the same table where Phantom is cleaning his handgun again, and Blaze is, well…being Blaze. He’s eyeing me in an indiscernible way. I can’t decide if he’s trying to assess me medically, but the way his brow wiggles, tells me he’s more interested in details about last night.

Finally, he speaks. “Shoulder still giving you shit, Mia, or was our boy here able to uh… slide things into place?”

So, both then .

Dillon pauses mid keystroke and shoots him a deadly glare.

Warmth consumes my cheeks, but I have to give him credit with his innuendo. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I ask, unable to keep a smirk off my face.

He places his hand over his heart, scooting to the edge of his seat. “As the resident medical professional…” he says studiously, “I’m just wanting to know if you need any additional treatment.”

His earnest efforts to exude his qualifications come across as ridiculous.

“Thank you, Blaze, but I’m fine. Nothing a little ibuprofen can’t take care of,” I say.

He seems unconvinced. “Okay…but if you need—”

“Dude,” Legion says, glancing up from his device. “Shut up. Arch handled it. No need to be butthurt over someone else administering basic first aid.”

As Blaze turns to argue with his brother, Dillon hands me my new phone. “Give it a go,” he says.

“Oh. Titanium? And here I was hoping I’d get the yellow one.” I stick my bottom lip out in a mock pout. Dillon’s jaw tics and I rethink my approach. “Kidding. I appreciate this, really. Thank you.”

The generic screen and icons stare back at me while I check to see if the basics have transferred over. Sure enough, my photos, contacts, and everything else from the cloud has been restored. Not bad for a makeshift mobile kiosk at thirty-thousand feet.

We still have several hours before we reach Cyprus, so I settle into the buttery leather of my seat and open my texts. I haven’t texted Ashlee in two days and I know she’s probably worried.

Hi.

OMG it’s you. I tried texting you and I kept getting delivery failures. Are you ok?

I decide to tell her about Carl and the crypt, but I keep it vague.

I’m ok now, yeah.

Then I think about last night and just how okay I really am.

Dangling a damn bone in front of me? Rude. What do you mean ‘now’?

I knew that wouldn’t pacify her.

A little misunderstanding, but Dillon found me, and now I’m chatting with you. What’s new?

Bubbles appear. They disappear, then reappear.

Found you? What, like you were a jacket someone left out on the playground and he went to the lost and found and picked you up? Jesus, Mia…

It was nothing to worry about. We were in a crowd and got separated and Dillon tracked me down.

I don’t want to get into the details regarding who Carl is, nor how I spent a portion of my evening bunking with a five-hundred-year-old skeleton. That’s a conversation better had in person.

You slept with him.

For the second time in less than a half hour, my cheeks heat.

We might’ve shared a moment or two…

It’s all I’m willing to give her right now, because I’d rather gush about him to her face to face.

You’re not getting off this easy, or hell, you’re obviously getting off easily enough LOL. I amuse myself… You owe me DETAILS later.

Fair. Stop skirting my question. What’s new, how are things at home?

Really, what I want to say is, have you noticed anyone stalking you or have you been threatened by anyone recently , but the logical part of my brain—and the one that knows Ashlee all too well—tells me she would’ve opened with that.

Nothing’s new. I go to work. I come home. Cook. Sleep. Repeat.

I can picture her running through the motions of her day, and I’m struck with something that I can’t quite pinpoint. Sadness? Or perhaps it’s just me missing home, or the idea of her rattling around the house alone. What would I be doing if I weren’t currently crossing the Mediterranean right now? I’d be at work. And then what? Come home and make art out of various fruits and vegetables? How in the span of less than a week, do those things—that routine—seem lackluster suddenly? Have I become a thrill seeker? Someone who no longer finds the rigidity of a nine-to-five as appealing as before?

Sounds…normal.

Yeah, not like I’m somewhere exotic like Colombia.

Colombia was a few days ago. A lot has happened since then.

I’m about to text her that we’re on our way to Cyprus, when my fingers stop, hovering above the screen.

“Don’t tell her where we’re headed.” Dillon is leaning close to me, not even looking at my phone.

“How did you—”

He holds up the sat phone and it clicks. Back at my house, he cloned my phone so that it was synced. The texts I sent Ashlee about him…about “catching feelings” for him, the absurdity of needing the clay…all of it. He’s been able to see every word. And I was so distracted and blindsided with the entire situation to remember.

“If the kidnappers believe the cuff is in London, I don’t want anything in writing about Cyprus. Even if they could hack your phone.” Understood, but my realization is still settling in my stomach like I sipped sour lemonade. Then, in a whisper, he says, “Don’t worry. I caught feelings, too.”

I turn, looking at him. This time, my stomach does a summersault, erasing the embarrassment from a moment ago.

When I look back at my phone, Ashlee’s responded.

As long as Adam and the guys are keeping you safe, that’s all I care about.

My reply is honest, and this time, I hope Dillon sees it.

I’m their number 1 priority, don’t worry. I’ll text you later.

You better.

Each of us is on a laptop or a phone. There’s no eye contact amongst us, just furrowed brows and deep thoughts. For the last hour the guys have been trying to help connect the dots and narrow down not only the reason for Cyprus being our next destination, but where the cuff (hopefully) is. It’s a huge leap of faith to discern the island from a dove and olive branch, but it’s the best hypothesis we’ve got.

We’ve exhausted the history of the Knights on the island. The ones that were able to flee from Israel after the fall of Acre, came to the island and made it their new headquarters. The location was ideal, situated between three continents, and thriving trade routes resulted.

I look at the notes I’ve been taking on my phone. Links to KT and Cyprus: crusades, headquarters, expanded their footprint, castles.

I sigh, frustrated that I’m coming up with a whole lot of nothing. “You guys come up with anything?” I ask, running my hand through my hair.

“Negative,” I hear in unison.

Legion stretches his arms above his head. “Kind of hard to pinpoint anything when we’re looking at an island that’s slightly smaller than Connecticut. Thirty-five hundred square miles is a lot of ground to cover.”

I agree with him. Because, it is.

Blaze takes his hair out of his man bun, pulling on the ends. He looks like he’s been electrocuted. “If I were a knight, where would I hide something important?” He’s muttering, but his train of thought isn’t wrong.

“A castle,” I say to myself. “Or a fortress, but we’ve been over that…”

“And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re already on day five, and I don’t think that timeline allows us to search the eighteen castles on the island—still standing or in ruins,” Phantom says, crossing his arms.

He’s right. Time is running out faster than I’d like to admit. And even if the assumption of hiding the cuff within the walls of a castle is correct, we don’t know where to start.

“Well, let’s say it is in a castle,” Blaze says. He’s smoothing his hair back now, twisting it atop his head. “Limassol Castle could make sense; it’s a popular tourist attraction, it’s open to the public… Hell, it’s right on the water, even.”

But something about Blaze’s point makes sense. “Water. That might be it.” I’m silenced by my thoughts until they’re interrupted.

“Mia…?” I look up to find the team staring at me, patiently awaiting my explanation.

“Let’s backtrack, shall we?” I say. “We know the island was sold to the Knights Templar.”

“By the lion guy from Robin Hood,” Blaze says, looking very serious.

I shake my head to dispel the cartoon image. “Richard the Lionheart, yes. When his fleet was scattered and shipwrecked on Cyprus on their way to the Holy Land in 1191, the ruler of Cyprus, Isaac, plundered the English treasure from the ships that ran aground and took the survivors as prisoners. However, the ship that carried Richard’s sister and fiancé was unscathed. They sought safety in Limassol Bay, but were refused fresh water by Isaac. He essentially kept them as prisoners on the ship. That is, until Richard showed up a week later. After negotiations went south, he laid siege to the island. Isaac fled and Richard rescued his sister and fiancé.” I take a second to pause before the next part, because, like the Love Cuff, its meaning is romantic. “And the story goes that Richard married his betrothed in Limassol Castle before he made it to Jerusalem.”

“So, you’re thinking that Limassol Castle is where we should start?” Dillon asks.

“Perhaps,” I say cautiously. “But first, I think we do as the Romans do, or in this case, the English.”

Legion scratches his head. “I think you lost us.”

“We approach the island like the English did,” I say.

Midas finishes my thought. “By boat then.”

“Exactly.”