“I’m alive, and that’s thanks to you, my child.” His voice was thready, weak.
Christos’s PR team had whitewashed the Paris family name. Every international broadcast, newspaper, and Internet site had carried the headlines with photos of Christos in his hospital bed. Quan Chi had been exposed as the arms dealer Ares, while Max had absorbed the full blame for the kidnapping. Her disturbed brother came out a hero, having died “trying to save his father from Max Heros.” Lies. And more lies.
Other than Rif, Hakan, and a few key government officials, including Gabrielle and her boss back in the US, no one knew what had actually happened. Out of loyalty, Hakan and Rif would comply with whatever Christos wanted, and the US government would remain strategically silent to ensure that the United States would have a regular supply of oil. In the face of all that, the truth about her brother and his death didn’t seem to matter to them.
Rif touched Hakan’s shoulder. “Let’s grab a cup of coffee, give Christos a break.”
“We’ll bring you dinner, something fabulous from the cafeteria. I’m sure they have caviar and champagne,” Hakan said with a smile.
They all forced a laugh.
After the two men left, Christos beckoned Thea closer. “Don’t think I’m unaware of what you sacrificed for this selfish old man. But please know that the Nikos we knew and loved died when he was twelve. The boy who came back was someone else.”
“I know what happened, Papa. I read the journal.”
He winced. “He was transformed by his time in that camp into a killing machine who used drugs and shot innocents. And he never lost his taste for it.” Christos grimaced. “He strangled Allison with his bare hands. That was when I knew what he’d become.”
All those years, she’d never understood why their British nanny had left so abruptly without saying good-bye. Allison had been strict and demanding, but Thea had never doubted she cared. She had been a decent and loving woman who set boundaries and standards for her charges. “That’s why you sent him away?”
“Military school in Utah, highly structured. It was the only place I could think of that might help him. But he got into trouble there as well. Started selling drugs, beating up other boys, threatening teachers. He was a manipulator. And smart as hell—they could never prove anything.”
“You should have told me about his past. I deserved to know the truth. And you let Nikos get away with murdering our nanny along with countless others by covering up for him.”
“You’re right.”
“And when you found out he was planning to kidnap you, you decided to beat him to it? What were you thinking? Why didn’t you ask for my help? Or Rif and Hakan’s? Why Max?”
“Remember the day of my party, when I said I wanted to talk about Nikos? I was going to tell you. I’d planned on sharing everything after you finished running the stairs, but Max had a different plan. You know the rest.”
“And we all paid the price.”
“I’m deeply sorry that everything turned out the way it did. Please understand that I thought I was protecting you.” He placed his hand on hers. She forced herself not to pull away. It would take a while to process everything.
“Did Hakan and Rif tell you about Helena?”
Her father looked down at his lap. “Max did. He planned to murder all the people I cared about before forcing me off the bridge. I hold myself fully responsible for Helena’s death.”
“I’m not sure anyone could’ve predicted Max’s actions. He hid his resentment well.” Still, her father had exhibited poor judgment. Trusting the cop as his co-conspirator had resulted in so many deaths.
“I guess it’ll just be the two of us from now on.” Papa’s eyes were sad, heavy.
Yes, but Nikos’s shadow would always be there between them.
Chapter Eighty-Three
Four weeks later
Thea stared into the retinal scanner at Quantum International Security headquarters in London. It beeped, letting her and Aegis into the war room. It was her first day back at work since the trauma on the Victoria Falls Bridge.
Bridges usually took you from one place to another, acting as a gateway to a promised land. But that was when you crossed them, not catapulted off them. The last three Paris family members had hurtled off the bridge. Only two of them had made it home alive.
While she recuperated, Hakan had led a team of local experts on an extensive search of the Zambezi River, scouring the area for any sign of her brother’s body, but the only thing they’d found was a remnant of Nikos’s shirt. The authorities had promised to notify her immediately if there were any updates. Her brother wasn’t the first person to disappear in the croc-infested waters, and he wouldn’t be the last.