Instead Rowan Argyros looked like a model straight off some Parisian runway. He was gorgeous. Not her type at all, but her sister Logan would bed him in a heartbeat.

Tall and broad-shouldered, Argyros was muscular without any bulk. He was very tan, and his eyes were light, a pale gray or green, hard to know exactly in the diffused light of the ballroom. His dark brown hair was sun-streaked and he wore it straight and far too long for someone in his line of work. His jaw was strong, but not the thick bulldog jaw she’d come to associate with testosterone-driven males, but more angular … elegant, the kind of face that would photograph beautifully, although today that jaw was shadowed with a day-old beard.

“Mrs. Xanthis,” Rowan said, extending a hand to her.

It bothered her that he hadn’t even bothered to shave for their meeting, and she wondered how this could be the man who would free her father?

Rowan Argosy looked as if he’d spent his free time hanging out on obscenely big yachts off the coast of France, not planning daring, dangerous life-saving missions.

She shook his hand firmly and let it go quickly. “Mr. Argyros,” she said crisply. “I would love to know what you know about my father. Drakon said you have information.”

“I do,” Rowan said, looking her straight in the eye, his voice hard, his expression as cool and unfriendly as hers.

Morgan’s eyebrows lifted. Nice. She liked his frosty tone, and found his coldness and aloofness reassuring. She wouldn’t have trusted him at all if he’d been warm and charming. Military types … intelligence types … they weren’t the touchy-feely sort. “Is he alive?”

“He is. I have some film of him taken just this morning.”

“How did you get it?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.” And her legs felt like Jell-O and she took a step back, sitting down heavily in one of the chairs grouped behind them. Her heart was thudding so hard and fast she thought she might be sick and she drew great gulps of air, fighting waves of nausea and intense relief. Dad was alive. That was huge. “Thank God.”

For a moment there was just silence as Morgan sat with the news, overwhelmed that her father was indeed alive. After a moment, when she could trust herself to speak, she looked up at Rowan. “And he’s well? He’s healthy?”

He hesitated. “We don’t know that. We only have his location, and evidence that he is alive.”

So Dad could be sick. He probably didn’t have his heart medicine with him. It’d probably been left behind on his boat. “What happens now?” she asked.

“We get your father out, take him to wherever you want him to go.”

“How does that happen, though?”

“We’re going to have you call your contact, the one in Somalia you’ve been dealing with, and you’re going to ask to speak to your father. You’ll tell them you need proof that he’s alive and well if they are to get the six million dollars.”