Rand sat down in a large, plush chair and pulled Kira onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” She wiggled and leaned to stand.
“Please? Let me hold you?”
She stopped squirming and settled into him. “Okay. I think I might need to be held.”
He kissed her temple. “And I really need to do the holding.” He closed his eyes and saw the bloody, unconscious man on the floor. His arms tightened around her. “Read the letter to me? I don’t speak German.”
“The writing is stilted, but uses the informal du, not Sie. I think this man was a friend of my father, but German wasn’t his first language. I suspect he’s Russian, which my father wasn’t fluent in. My mother always translated his Russian research materials for him.”
“But your mother didn’t see these letters.”
“I suspect that’s why they were written in German. My father grew up in the US and spoke English without an accent, but his German was pitch-perfect too. He lived in West Germany for a few years before I was born.”
She settled back against his chest and read it silently before reading aloud for Rand. He followed along, recognizing some of the words on the page.
My dear friend, there is movement in the art world you must know about. I have news of interest to our friends.
In addition, the Stoltz treasures have been located. Come to Malta. Once all is returned, our friendship must end. But we will not grieve, for all will be as it should, with treasures once stolen, now returned.
Come as soon as you are able after the summer solstice. You must be here on July 3rd.
When she finished, he asked, “Is he talking about two different things? The movement in the art world and the Stoltz treasures?”
“If this is a coded letter between spies from opposing sides, and the Stoltz treasure was the password, then I think so.”
“You believe Kulik?”
“I sort of do. I mean, I probably shouldn’t, but I think we can take his words at face value first, then look for the truth or lies within them.”
“And you think Reuben Kulik’s father is your father’s correspondent.” This was what Rand believed, but he wanted to hear Kira’s take.
“Yes. One of the previous letters mentioned a dead wife and daughter, and Luka Kulik’s deceased family is in his bio. I looked it up last night before I went to sleep. It’s cited as the reason he decided to live in Malta half the year even before he was able to buy citizenship.”
Rand nodded toward the open laptop. “Yeah, and there’s more on that in Freya’s dossier. Kulik was tight with Yeltsin in the ’90s, and it might be why the Russian president tolerated his oligarch’s lengthy stays in Malta, even though his financial empire was in Russia and Belarus. Kulik claimed it was because he wanted to be near the place where he’d lost his beloved wife and daughter, and it seemed Yeltsin accepted that excuse. That puts Luka Kulik in a prime position—both politically and physically—to inform on Soviet and post-Soviet Russia’s activities to your father.”
“And to pass on whatever intel my father fed him about the US to Russia.”
“Yes. There would have to be a quid pro quo. What did Reuben say about his father?”
“Nothing. He claimed he was warning me because he knew my presence at the gallery had caused a stir. He’d never met Cousin Andre before and wanted to warn me about him last night. But you cut him off.”
“I know it made you angry, but I’m not sorry you weren’t alone with him yesterday.”
She stiffened on his lap. “You think I’d have been foolish enough to accept his invitation right then? I’d have said no.”
He tightened his arms around her. “Let me rephrase. I’m glad I was there to give you a reason and a buffer. You expected to be alone in Malta last night. But you weren’t. Same with today. Kulik knew I was watching you.”
“He thought you were stalking me and warned me you might not be the author you claim to be.”
He laughed at that, and her body relaxed slightly. Then she surprised him by shifting and kissing his jaw, just under his ear. Her soft whisper sent heat to his belly. “I’m very glad you’re here with me. I had no idea what I was walking into.”
Rand tapped the letter. “Between this and the other letters you described, I feel like you were being lured here. This was written after your father was dead. It was supposed to be sent to him, but the woman in Birgu knew of his death, so she didn’t play her part. She knew, but the author didn’t? Seems unlikely. Didn’t you say Cousin Andre contacted you with condolences? He knew your dad was dead within a week of his passing, and he began luring you here. You were the person who was supposed to receive this. I think it was meant for you all along. It even gave you the code word to invoke an exchange, like the previous letter.”
She nodded. “And the previous letter…my father moved it when he was home from the hospital. I—I haven’t told you, but I think the only reason these letters survived for me to find was because I saw you with Staci that night at Morgan’s. I came home early, a mere forty minutes after I’d left, just the time it took to drive there and back. I found my father on the floor by the fireproof safe, and there was a fire in his study fireplace. I think he was burning papers, or about to burn them, but then he heard me come home, and he scrambled to hide what was left in the safe before I walked in on him.”
Her fingers fiddled with a button on his shirt. “If I’d stayed at the party for even thirty minutes, I bet he’d have burned everything. As it is, I don’t know what he managed to burn.”
Rand placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head up to face him. He pressed his lips to hers, then slid his tongue inside. A gentle but far from chaste kiss.
She kissed him back with the same sweetness, and heat unfurled in his belly.
He ended the kiss. Her eyes fluttered open. Those wide hazel eyes framed in thick, dark lashes. Free of makeup now and always beautiful.
“I’ve regretted what you saw that night with every fiber of my being. But now I have to wonder if fate was on our side, because no matter how messed up and dangerous this is, my gut says you need to be here. Even if you were lured here. You need the truth, but also, there’s something big going on.”
“I feel it too. This isn’t just about my parents’ secrets. These are spy games, and Russia is currently at war with an increasingly unstable president at the helm. A week ago, there was a coup attempt. It might have only lasted a few hours, but whoever makes the next attempt will have learned from those mistakes.”
She leaned toward the table and grabbed the second envelope. “So. Let’s see what Luka Kulik has to say to me, assuming this note is from him.”
The letter was also written in German, but it was clear who it was meant for.
It is with great pleasure I learned of your arrival, dearest Kira. We have much to discuss. Be at the Mdina gate noon tomorrow. Come alone.
“I read about Mdina on my flight,” Rand said. “You know they filmed several King’s Landing scenes from Game of Thrones there? I can’t wait to see it.”
“I presume this is your way of saying I’m not going alone.”
