Page 66 of Doyle

“Yes. I was...”

“Seriously injured.”

“My knees were shattered—had to get them replaced, learn to walk again.” His mouth pinched. “For a long time, I thought she’d died in the blast. But... that was her, in Barcelona.”

“You’re sure?”

He drew in a breath. Sometimes he could still hear her laughter, taste her kiss on his lips, the tug on his heart to believe.Yeah, so well played.“Yes, sir.”

“And she staged the accident in Barcelona?”

“Seems like her MO.”

He nodded. “To get my blood. To get into my vault.”

“That’s my theory.”

“And now she’s followed us here?”

“I think she broke into the vault area and escaped into the tunnel.”

Declan’s mouth made a grim line.

“What is she after, sir?”

“I don’t know.” Declan glanced up at the house.

And Stein read his mind. “If I were going to try to rob you, it would be tonight, when everyone is away.”

“Zeus and the team are there.”

“They don’t know about the smugglers’ tunnel,” he said. “Or do they?”

“Zeus does, but the rest are locals. He decided to keep them need-to-know.”

Stein held up his hand. “I get it.” He directed his attention to Declan’s house too, the lights glowing around the perimeter, a beacon on the hill. “Maybe...”

“Yes. Go.”

He turned to Declan. “But, sir?—”

“I’m fine here, Stein. We have the Jones, Inc. guys, and if you’re right, she’s not after me but my program.”

His gut said the same thing. “Leave it with me, sir. Enjoy your evening.”

Declan nodded. “Thank you, Stein.”

Stein headed for the four-wheeler on the beach.This time, Phoenix, I’m onto your game.

Except, even as he drove, she walked into his memory and tugged him back to the safe house three years ago in Poland. To the night pressing into the windows. She came into the office, her gaze on the screens attached to the office wall, having just checked on Luis.

Stein had been trying to contact his team, to no avail.

“We can’t stay here.” She’d set a container of ramen noodles on the desk. “I made us dinner. I’d prefer some fresh pierogies, but I don’t want to go back out.” She’d taken off her tactical gear, wearing only a tank and a pair of camo pants.

He spotted the poached egg, the cheese and milk. “You doctored it.”

“Black Swan special. I stocked the fridge two days ago.” She sat in the other chair, blowing on her noodles.

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