“I enjoyed Conrad’s company and was stuck in the DDR. Your mother had a difficult pregnancy with you and insisted we stay in the DDR instead of going back to Russia for your birth as we did for the others.”

Others. Kira had wondered if her mother had miscarried or even had a stillbirth. She wanted to ask about that, but it could wait. Right now she needed to know about his and Conrad’s spy games. “So it was while my mother was pregnant with me that you and Conrad began your information exchange?”

“I don’t know how it came about for Conrad, but I suspect MI6 or CIA were monitoring one or both of us. He was granted entry into East Berlin and other parts of the DDR for his research. I was an important figure in the party. High ranking with even higher-ranked friends. I would guess MI6 or the CIA or both instructed him to gather intel for them. He started nudging me in that direction about a year into our acquaintance. I received approval from my superiors in the party, and the spy games began.”

He made it sound so very much like his role was on the up and up, but she highly doubted that. Neither man would risk so much if there wasn’t meat to the intel being traded.

But her father—dammit, Conrad—wasn’t here to ask.

Her mother must have known, of course.

Then Conrad Hanson stole mother and daughter away, but continued with the spying, probably because Luka would get suspicious otherwise. “What happened—officially—to me and my mom?”

“When you were almost four, you were out on a boat, paddling around the harbor, with Alesya and Reuben. Just the three of you. You fell in. Your mother jumped in after you. You both disappeared, never to be seen again. Your brother, nine years old, screamed and cried for hours. When we found him, he was sunburned and dehydrated. Nearly dead himself.”

She imagined that brother she’d adored, so young and terrified. She might not like the man he was now, but her heart ached thinking of what he’d gone through.

He easily could have died that day.

Instead, he’d been abandoned by his mother.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The look on Kira’s face was painful to see. Rand couldn’t imagine what she was thinking and feeling as she swiped at more tears. He knew she likely wanted more answers, but first, they had to process what they’d learned.

A maid entered the room rolling a cart laden with food and drinks. Rand took the opportunity to rise to his feet. “That’s enough for today. Thank you for your hospitality, but we’re leaving now.”

“I insist you stay. I have two guest rooms made up. You will move in.”

“No,” Rand said. He might be making a mistake in making this call without consulting Kira, but she was distraught, possibly not rational. There was no way this house was safe.

To his great relief, she stood as well. “No. We must go.”

“But we have years to make up for, baby sister.” The words were delivered with a cold edge.

Reuben Kulik entered the room via the arched doorway to the main corridor, another man by his side. The stranger’s face niggled at Rand’s brain. He’d seen this man before. Or at least a photo of him.

He was probably ten years older than Reuben. Tall, with gray-speckled dark hair, he moved with authority and had the hard edges of a man who knew power. When he stepped closer, Rand spotted a wristwatch that cost the same as a luxury vehicle. Another oligarch.

Probably another proud owner of a Maltese passport. They could be in the middle of a neighborhood of oligarchs, for all he knew. He shuddered at the thought of what the homeowner’s association dues might be.

He offered his hand. “Randall Fallon.”

The man hesitated, then accepted the handshake, which was firm and brief. “Grigory Laskin.” His gaze scanned Kira from head to toe, then glanced toward Luka. “This is your wayward daughter? The American?”

The hair on the back of Rand’s neck had gone up at hearing the man’s name. Years of training ensured he gave no outward sign of recognition. Or alarm.

He took Kira’s arm. “Come, my love. We’re done here.” He used the endearment to piss off the men in Kira’s newfound family. He didn’t care what Laskin thought. They just needed to get away, now.

“Stay, sister. I want to hear all about our dear mother.”

If Reuben wanted to run her off, he couldn’t make his voice any creepier. But then, Rand suspected he absolutely wanted her to leave. She was a threat to his position as sole beneficiary of the Kulik billions, and Luka Kulik didn’t look well. His skin had an unhealthy yellowish tone.

Given that Kira was innocent in her parents’ deceit, there was a very real chance she could claim the aging oligarch’s heart. If he had one.

Kira cocked her head. “I’m sorry for what she did to you. I didn’t know.”

“Right. But you conveniently showed up as soon as your dear, thieving dad bit the dust.”

“I’m not going to defend myself to you. I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Not even spreading your legs for some dumb fake author who followed you to Malta so he could cash in on billions?”

Rand wanted to grab him by the throat, but he really didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to toss him in a Maltese jail cell and leave Kira unprotected, so instead he simply stepped into the prick’s face and puffed himself up to let the man see the SEAL in vacation clothes. “You will treat Kira with respect.”

“I’m not afraid of you, but she should be. The gallery manager never heard of you, but you suddenly show up—practically straight from the plane—the night Kira is there, and you were staying in the same hotel. Why are you stalking my sister?”

Rand caught the past tense on the hotel. Reuben knew they’d moved.

“Because she’s incredible.” That was true enough, and it didn’t deny the truth that Rand’s arrival in Malta wasn’t a coincidence. They could believe whatever they wanted about him. Reuben Kulik was no longer Rand’s biggest concern.

“She’s back in the Kulik family now. There’s no place for you. Laskin probably won’t want her now that he knows you soiled her, but we have other friends.”

Kira was already walking toward the archway. Rand stepped around her brother and caught up with her. A hand on his shoulder had him spinning around. He didn’t draw his weapon, but he would if necessary. “Don’t fuck with me, Kulik. She’s not your prisoner nor is she your property. Now, we’re leaving. Let us go quietly, and we won’t even report all the stolen art displayed in this room to Interpol.”

“How did you know the art was stolen?” Kira asked as the gate closed behind their rental car, and relief settled in. She’d half expected them to be detained at the gate.

“A hunch. I figure your dad had to be giving Kulik something for the intel, or if not that, he had to have a reason to believe Kulik had stolen art to begin with. Plus, the second room we were in, it wasn’t for the public, not like that impersonal first room. The second room is Luka Kulik’s domain with his comfy chair and all his treasures.”

“I recognized a few pieces. Missing since World War II. They’re in the Monuments Men and Women Foundation deck of cards. We could claim a reward if they’re returned.”

“I’d do it pro bono, but no way will Interpol seize anything from Kulik.”

“Yeah.” She huffed out a sigh, then whispered, “I can’t believe I’m related to that.”

Rand’s phone must’ve vibrated, because he pulled it out of his breast pocket and took the call on speaker. Kira saw the name on the screen as it connected. Freya.

“Take me off speaker if I am. We need to keep this conversation between the three of us.”

Three. Freya assumed the car was bugged, but didn’t want to say it aloud to whomever was listening in.

Kira snatched up the phone and hit the button to switch off the speaker as Rand cursed at his mistake. To Freya, she said, “I’m reminded of the line in Star Wars, when Princess Leia said, ‘Our getaway was too easy.’” She didn’t say aloud the important line: They must be tracking us.

Who knew Star Wars trivia could be so useful?