Page 82 of Locked and Loaded

“Son of a bitch,” Dragan growled. “I don’t need a keeper.”

Mick grinned. “I don’t know. You did get shot, so maybe you do. All joking aside, I think he’s worried about you. He says there’s something about all this that has him on edge. He asked Mitch to dial up the threat level.”

Dragan wanted to be angry that his friend had reached out to his employer. Hell, he didn’t even know they knew each other. Maybe they didn’t. John would reach out regardless. And the fact that he did solidified Dragan’s gut feeling about this ticking time bomb. And Dragan feared that when it went off, it would take as many people down as possible.

Putting all those thoughts aside, he asked, "You get the picture I sent?"

"Got it," Mick said. "Cute girl. Looks like she's having a good time."

"That's the problem. She's having a good time right before she wasn't."

Mick grunted. "Sometimes beauty is a negative. Makes you a target."

Dragan wasn’t going to argue that point. It was far too valid. "Look at the background."

Mick leaned forward and studied his screen. "Well, well. Is that who I think it is?"

"Katya Ivanova and Nikolai Rostov. Standing on the back of the yacht. They’re too far back to make out details, but the awkward way she is standing tells me they just met. What do you think?”

“Agreed. Wait, so you think this was taken at the auction?"

"Yes,” Dragan replied. “Lennox didn’t notice Katya in the background. She thinks the picture was taken a few days before Chloe disappeared. But I think this picture says Katya was already purchased by Rostov, but Chloe’s still happy. Still thinks she's at a party. Maybe earlier in the evening." Dragan leaned back in the chair and stared at the canvas wall without seeing it. "She didn't know what was coming."

"None of them do," Mick said. "That's how they get them."

Dragan didn't answer. He was thinking about Lennox. About the way she'd looked this morning, waking up next to her in bed, her hair tangled and her guard down. About the way she'd said I can't lose anyone else, as if the words were being pulled out of her with pliers. She had no idea what she had this entire time. Blinded by the guilt and anger over her missing sister, she didn’t recognize Katya in the background. She should have after meeting her. This is why he worried about her. Her tradecraft was just good enough to lull her into a false sense of security and then get her killed.

He refocused on Mick. “Can you get the metadata from the picture?”

Mick started clicking away on the keyboard. “I can try. Give me a minute. This thing's got layers."

Dragan waited. The tent was quiet except for the faint hum of the solar charger and the distant sound of wind sweeping over sand. Through the canvas walls, he could hear Hassan's voice somewhere in the camp, and then Lennox's laugh, light and surprised. She was still with Hassan. Good. Hassan would keep her occupied while Dragan did the part of the work that might hurt her.

"Okay," Mick said. "Metadata says the picture was taken three months ago. Nine twenty-three p.m. local time."

"Location?"

"That's the interesting part. GPS coordinates put it at a private residence on the southwest coast of Ibiza. Not a public dock or marina but someone's house."

"A mansion,” Dragan offered. “That makes sense. Away from prying eyes.”

"Pulling it up now.” Mich whistled. “A very big mansion. The kind of mansion that comes with its own gated drive and several outbuildings. It also comes with its own jetty.”

Dragan sat forward. "Who owns it?"

"That's going to take longer. Property records in Ibiza are a mess. Shell companies owning shell companies. I can trace it, but it's not going to be fast."

"Do it." He paused. "And the yacht. Run the name. It’s hard to make out, but it seems to start with M-A-R."

"Already added to the list. Anything else?"

Dragan looked at the map on the wall. The Sahara stretched across it in shades of brown and cream, vast and empty, millions of square miles of nothing. Somewhere outside, Lennox was trying not to feel guilty about eating lunch.

"Get me the owner of that mansion," he said. "And the yacht. Whoever owns that dock hosted the auction. Whoever hosted the auction knows who took Chloe."

"Which means they know where she is," Mick finished.

"If she's still alive."