‘You are the enemy!’ she screamed – and pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot ricocheted around the cave, deafening, amplified. She dropped the gun like it was hot, staring down at her captor with horror and relief.

‘Nene!’ Santi cried, running over to her and enfolding her in his arms. ‘Don’t look, don’t look,’ he said as she began trembling violently. She had killed a man.

The sound of voices, of footsteps, made them both turn, as Sindo and Quincy burst into the cave, pistols pulled, faces set for battle.

‘What the hell . . . ?’ Quincy cried, seeing the two of them standing there, Miguel’s slumped corpse on the ground, blood soaking into the earth, the metallic smell of it already filling the confined space.

Marina felt her terror heighten. This was it, they’d both be shot now, killed for treachery when they’d only just found each other again. ‘He was . . . he was . . .’ she stammered, but she was too shocked to form the words.

Slowly, the two men dropped their guns, Sindo replacing his in his belt.

‘We know what he was,’ he said quietly, his eyes meeting hers in perfect understanding. ‘Come. We need to get rid of the body.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

Madrid, October 2018

‘It’s a triumph, Marina,’ Charlotte smiled.

They stood together, looking back at the party. Guests were mingling, talking and laughing as they moved around the exhibition, admiring the photographs, poems and artworks and reading the brief histories that had been compiled for each one. Marina and Mateo had worked tirelessly together trying to find the best material to sum up the project’s theme – Love and War – and it had been a particular coup getting the rival Reina Sofia museum to lend Picasso’s masterpiece Guernica as the centrepiece; Katerina had pulled in more than a few favours to make it happen and she had been key in helping draw the whole show together, not least in enabling the party to be held here, at the museum. Such was the power of the Mendoza name.

‘I can hardly believe it is happening,’ Marina said, watching as the catering staff attended to the guests as per her instructions. This was her fledgling company’s first big event, and with such a high-profile guest list, she needed it to go off without a hitch; between setting up the company and compiling the memorial exhibition, she had been working fifteen-hour days for the past few months and Charlotte knew that was, in part, a way to fill the void left by her grandmother’s death.

‘Well, you’ve worked so hard for this. You deserve the success. Enjoy it. Let your team take it from here now.’

‘You’re right, it’s –’ She bit her lip anxiously. ‘It’s just hard to step back, that’s all. I’m so used to doing everything myself, I’m not good at delegating.’

‘It’ll come. You’re doing brilliantly,’ Charlotte said reassuringly. ‘You’re learning to be the boss. A Mendoza.’