While I change into new clothes, I think about all the people who could be targeting me. The list of names I was given several years ago had twenty-three people on it.
Then, of course, there is the final name: Richard Coleman.
At first, I immediately dismiss the name. If it really is my father after me, I would be dead right now. Heaven knows he didn’t bother taking his time with my mother. I spent exactly four days at that convent before Sister Clara came back to me with the news that I was an orphan.
Then again, he is my father. Maybe he’s playing the sort of long game that I’ve been playing for the past several years, biding his time while he fucks with my head. Also, he wouldn’t be this mysterious. The vicious man I’ve learned about mostly through reputation, which only added to the violent act I witnessed myself, would want to make sure I knew who it was that killed me.
Either way, I now have a seven-day grace period to figure all of this out.
Correction, we have a seven-day grace period.
I can’t very well ignore the leverage the woman used against me to make sure I show up at this meeting: Leira.
They’ve obviously been watching us. But why would they think that some woman I’ve spent a total of twenty-four hours with would be any kind of a bargaining chip?
I think about everything that’s happened since I first found her in that lagoon. The idea of them so much as thinking about her makes my fists curl. Yes, there is a part of me that feels responsible for her welfare. And yes, she has a way about her that sets my senses on fire. And yes, I absolutely would happily kill the man who she would ever think of first giving herself to.
“Hostia puta,” I curse to myself.
I grimace and run my fingers through my hair, pulling hard so the pain erases my frustration.
Of course they know.
I all but gave it away when the woman in the car mentioned her. That smug smile that touched her lips as soon as Leira was dangled in front of me as bait.
It seems she’s stuck with me for a little bit longer.
But the first thing we need to do is get off this damn island.
Chapter Thirty-Two Leira
When I see Enrique zooming down the street on his scooter, I nearly faint with dizziness. When he gave me the phone, I had expected the worst.
The question again is, why do I care?
His leverage over me is gone, completely deleted. Him being dead or taken would have snipped my final tie to him. I had no reason to still be standing here by the time he returned.
Yet, here I am.
When he parks the bike on the street, I’m not sure if I want to punch him for causing so much worry, or kiss his stupid face if only out of relief.
Instead, I fall into him, throwing my arms around his waist and holding on tightly. I cling to him like he’s an anchor, the only sure and steady thing in this sea of craziness.
I feel him go stiff with surprise underneath me.
“Está bien,” he whispers, bringing his arms around me as well.
We stand there like that for a moment until the awkwardness sets in. I’m the first to let go, pulling away and self-consciously smoothing down my skirt as I try to reclaim some of the pride I just swallowed.
“You’re back sooner than I expected. What happened?”
“They just wanted to talk to me.”
“Really?” I ask, scrutinizing him closely. For such a short, apparently harmless meeting, he looks surprisingly troubled.
“Yes. Their employer wants a meeting with me seven days from now in Barcelona. They didn’t tell me who he is.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it? That means he doesn’t want to kill you.” The expression on his face doesn’t give me hope. “Right?”
“Not yet,” he says, giving me a resigned look.
“What does he want to meet about?” I ask hesitantly.
“They didn’t tell me.”
Enrique just shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair in that way he does when he’s frustrated.
“What is it?”
His dark gaze comes back to me. “No one who just wants to talk goes to this much trouble.”
“So, you think someone you targeted is now after you.”
He nods in agreement.
“But…just to talk?” I say with skepticism. It doesn’t make sense.
“Exactly,” he says, obviously reading my mind. “Which is why I want to get out of Ibiza…now.”
I look around, suddenly paranoid.
“Whoever it is, is giving us seven days until I have to meet him.”
Which only compounds my bewilderment. What the hell is going on?
I’m all set to get on the back of his bike without hesitation, but Enrique is the one to stop me.
“You have a choice, Leira. I’m giving you this chance to go home to safety. You can use that phone to call your father and have him send someone to come and get you. I suspect he has the resources to do so. I also assume he has the capability to keep you safe from these people. If you come with me, you’ll only be putting yourself in danger.”
I realize his phone is still in my hands. My fingers grasp it, thumbs sliding up along either side of it.
He’s right. One phone call to my father, and I’d probably be in safe hands before the day is even done.
Enrique would be out of my life for good. Nothing more than a brief memory.
Or, I could go with him.
I stare hard into those obsidian pools, trying to read them for clues as to what he wants. He’s good at hiding it, but I see a tiny flicker of…something.
He doesn’t want me to leave, despite everything.
He doesn’t want me to leave!
“I’m going with you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three Enrique
“We aren’t taking your boat?” Leira says when I park in the lot for the ferries that go to
