She folded her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The pain from her cuts no longer bothered her. Yes, she hurt. But it was the least of her worries.

She held still, her body the smallest ball she could make and hoped if it was Reuben, he’d be too much of a chickenshit to descend into the lower level of the crypt, which, she’d learned when she first descended, was full of human bones.

Valkyries were supposed to guide the souls of the dead to Valhalla. Instead, she’d joined their earthly remains in the underworld.

They used a small explosive to pop the lock. This time, they didn’t find a ladder, but a folding metal staircase. Again, Rand descended first. A wave of rancid odor was the first thing that hit him, and his heart squeezed.

No. Kira hadn’t been here that long.

That kind of stench took time to build or heat to ferment, and it wasn’t hot down here.

It was downright comfortable.

“Kira!” he shouted again.

His voice bounced back at him, but otherwise, there was no reply.

He descended, flashlight beam lighting the steps and path ahead. Red markings decorated the walls and ceiling.

This wasn’t the Hypogeum. That was in Paola, near Valletta, and as far as he knew, the Hypogeum was the only recorded site of that type in the Maltese Islands. Still, this had to be a similar crypt. Was it also Neolithic? And if so, how did Reuben know about it, but not the Maltese people?

They would have to research who, exactly, owned this patch of earth.

He and the team explored the space. There were dozens of passages, some nothing more than a low hole in the wall that could be a long tunnel. Kira might fit through them, but the SEALs would have to drop their gear to squeeze through. They skipped those for now. They’d search the easier-access passages first.

They located the cause of the stench.

“Cousin Andre,” Rand informed the others. From the looks of it, he’d been shot. His body must have been left to the elements for a bit before he was removed down here, because he was more decomposed than this environment would allow given that he’d been alive just three nights ago.

He turned from the body. Kira had to be here. They had drones monitoring the villa. Reuben hadn’t left the estate. He couldn’t have come back and taken her without being spotted.

“Kira!” he shouted again as he turned in a circle, trying to decide which corridor she might have crawled through. Her name echoed back to him in a distortion of his voice, the sound bouncing around the cavern. She might not recognize his voice with the way sound carried. But he could waste a lot of time searching each path. Getting her to respond would dramatically shorten the search time.

He spotted steps cut into the earth. There was another level below this one.

He crossed to the stairs. “Kira! Are you down the steps? It’s me—” He cut himself off, remembering her Star Wars references the other day. “I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”

Her voice came from somewhere below. A low, hollow, echoing sound. “Now that’s just wrong. Sure, Darth Vader was Leia’s father, but Luke? He was her brother. You’d better not be my brother.”

The sudden light after so many hours of darkness exacerbated Kira’s dehydration headache. She squeezed her eyes closed. It was too much at once. Instead of being blinded by darkness, she was now blinded by light. Everything made her head throb.

But she didn’t need eyes to know it was Rand’s arms that surrounded her. His scent overrode that of the rot that permeated the tomb.

He lifted her aching body from her hidey hole and held her tight as he ascended the ancient stairs. She buried her face against his chest and breathed him in.

Rand. Her Rand.

He’d found her.

Was this how it had been last December? His strong arms holding her as she babbled deliriously?

She wasn’t entirely certain she wasn’t delirious now. She was so thirsty. So tired. Everything ached from head to toe. Plus, she was strangely chilled for the hot climate. A cold sweat dampened her skin.

Fever?

They reached a ladder, and there was discussion among the others—SEALs, Rand had said—of placing her in a harness and pulling her up, but Rand instructed her to hold on tight.

She locked her arms around his neck, and he carried her up the ladder into the light of a hot Maltese day.

Past and present merged in her mind. She opened her eyes and met Rand’s concerned gaze as he carried her across the rocky ground. He was so beautiful. And now she remembered her jumbled thoughts from last December. Perhaps it was being jumbled again that unlocked the memories.

She stroked his cheek. “You look like my love,” she whispered. She didn’t mean Apollo this time. No, he looked like Rand. Just Rand. “My one and only love.”

He stopped, the sun kissing his skin and lighting up his gold-blond hair. “Kira.” He closed his eyes. “Oh, thank god. Kira.”

She stroked his cheek again. “I have a question.”

He looked at her, waiting.

She smiled and felt her dry lips split in the heat. “Are you allergic to strawberries?”

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Back on the yacht, the four SEALs took up guard positions while Rand took Kira into the main stateroom to clean the cuts on the back of her thighs.

One of the Fire Team had retrieved the little spider drone while Rand carried her to the car. Once they were on the road, Kira had gratefully held the bug, calling it E.T. and saying it was her hero. 

Rand gave her ibuprofen tablets, which she eagerly took. During the walk, she’d downed a liter of water and ate two protein bars. By the time they were back at the boat, she was moving under her own steam, and Rand was relieved and grateful.

He closed the stateroom door behind him and leaned against it, watching her as she stood frozen, her back to him, a rigid wall.

She hadn’t said much on the drive. He assumed it was because she didn’t know the SEAL driving the car while Rand sat with her in the backseat. But now they were alone, and her body language was stiff.

She’d said she loved him, sort of. But she’d just been through a nightmare, and the last time she’d seen him, he’d been holding and kissing another woman. “I’m sorry. About Nadia. She had information about Little Creek and demanded a kiss⁠—”

“It’s okay. I never doubted you.” She still stood with her back to him. Her shoulders rose with a deep breath. “She’s not your type.”

He smiled at that. “No. She’s not. I prefer shy, sexy historians. Brainy art lovers.” He stepped forward, stopping when he stood mere inches behind her.

Her hair was a dirty mass hanging down her back. Reuben must’ve taken the hair clip she’d been wearing yesterday.

She raised her arms and lifted her hair, revealing the zipper of her soiled and stained sundress. “Unzip me?”