Chapters (96)
- Cover
- Berkley titles by David Ricciardi
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- CHARACTER LIST
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EIGHTY-FIVE
- EIGHTY-SIX
- EIGHTY-SEVEN
- Children of Fallen Patriots Foundation
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“We aren’t criminals.” Athena smirked. “Quite the opposite. Greece is a waypoint and a destination for the Eastern European and African sex trades. My mother started several shelters in Athens two decades ago so the girls would have a place to stay if they were able to escape the traffickers. It gave the girls hope and safety, but my family has lived with death threats, and an occasional attack, from the organized crime syndicates ever since. So thank you for your concern, but I think I can handle the agent.”
TWENTY-FIVE
JAKE WORE A black suit and tie as he drove Athena’s silver Jaguar sedan along the congested Akti Miaouli boulevard. He stopped outside a five-story office building in the port city of Piraeus and opened the rear door.
Athena stepped out wearing a silk Armani suit with a leather Hermès bag on her arm and took the elevator to the top floor. It was half past six, and most of the employees had already departed for the evening, but the receptionist greeted Athena and escorted her to the agent’s office. It was furnished like a British bank from the 1800s, with dark wood paneling and tufted leather furniture.
“Miss Romanos, you honor me with your presence,” said the agent. He was in his midforties and wore a gray sharkskin suit, a shiny gold chain around his neck, and matching cuff links.
“Please, call me Athena,” she said with a smile. While she would have liked to break his outstretched hand, she took it and gave it a polite squeeze.
He held on for several seconds.
Athena liberated herself and walked to the windows behind his desk. The city was built on a gently sloping hill and the office overlooked the port. Before her were half a dozen large ships, bathed in the port’s work lights. It was an imposing view, but Athena thought only of her dead brother.
Until she noticed the agent checking out her ass.
She turned around. She had no desire, and no need, to use her looks to get what she came for.
“How is your father?” asked the agent.
“His memory ebbs and flows, but his brilliant mind is still there.”
“Which you’ve obviously inherited.”
Athena tuned out the agent as he droned on about how his business had grown and how he could give her guidance as her father continued to fade. She ignored her burning desire to cut out his tongue and started her mission—strolling around the office and mentally cataloging everything in sight.
In ten minutes, she was ready to leave. The agent armed the alarm system and locked the door as they passed by the night cleaning crew on their way to the elevator.
“Dinner?” asked the agent on the ride down.
Athena’s gut tightened, but she kept her composure and smiled.
“That’s very kind of you, but I already have plans.”