Anna didn’t wait for the door to close behind the woman before she walked into the suite’s living room. She moved in on him—silently, quickly—and didn’t stop until her chest was a few inches from his back.

“Look,” he said, hypnotized by the screen. “There has been an explosion of some kind.”

She could sense his body heat through the bathrobe. She recognized his smell.

“Mossing,” she whispered quietly, almost exhaling his name.

The sound of her voice caused his shoulders to rise with a start, and he started to turn his head toward her.

CHAPTER

49

THE EVENING TRAFFIC slowly crawled along the palm-tree-lined Boulevard de la Croisette, where the beachfront promenade was lined with stalls selling knock-off sunglasses and neon-colored plastic jewelry.

A young African man wearing at least twelve hats on his head stepped out in front of Anna. He flung out his arms and flashed her a radiant, toothy grin.

“Ten euros, miss,” he said, and removed the stack of hats from his head. “Pick one, pick one!”

Anna laughed in consent. She got out her money and pointed to a sand-colored straw hat with a black band.

She continued on toward the casino and the carousel, which gleamed golden at the end of the promenade, and enjoyed the sensation of the evening breeze on her bare shoulders and legs.

She had reached the marina by the time sirens sliced through the air.

With great difficulty, the cars on the road pulled off onto the shoulder to make room, and people along the road stopped to rubberneck. A convoy of police cars and ambulances lit up the evening twilight as they raced by.

Anna proceeded down the dock. Her footsteps felt light now, bouncy.

She stopped at the end of the dock and looked back over her shoulder. She looked for the hotel’s white facade at the far end of the bay. The EMTs were hurrying in vain, she thought. The noise of the sirens would soon fall silent.

There was nothing they could do.

She took the hand that was offered her and stepped onto the narrow gangway. The yacht had been in the marina for several weeks, waiting, and was now ready to sail on.

“Ready for Mallorca, miss?”

Anna nodded. “Let’s go.”

The man in white pulled up the gangway and nodded at the terrace on the upper deck. “He’s waiting for you up there.”

Anna jogged up the stairs as the big ship rocked very gently.

She stepped out onto the deck just as the foam overflowed, spilling over the edge of one of the champagne glasses.

Kenneth hastily took a sip as he looked up from his wheelchair. He grabbed the stem of the other glass and held it up to her.

“Is a toast in order?” he asked inquisitively, raising his shoulders ever so slightly.

Anna smiled and reached for the glass.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY