With her eyes on the ceiling, she focused on the sound of Draco’s steady, deep breathing.
* * *
Grey light filtered through the slits of her eyelids, nudging her awake enough to smell the rich aroma of coffee and hear the low murmur of strained voices.
Cate opened her eyes as Draco entered the room, carrying two mugs and a paper bag.
“It was all I could do to keep Frau Bieri from busting in to see if you were alive,” Draco said.
Cate sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Why would she think otherwise?”
Draco handed her a mug. “I told her you’d had a rough night. She thinks I was the cause.” He set the bag on the bed beside her. “She’s not the touchy-feely kind of woman. She’s more like the kind you want on your side in a brawl.”
Cate curled her hands around the mug, absorbing its warmth. “I think I like Frau Bieri.”
“Apparently, everyone likes Frau Bieri. She just doesn’t like me.” Draco dropped into the chair and took a sip of his coffee. Despite having slept upright in a hard wooden chair, he appeared disgustingly sexy, his hair only slightly mussed and his chin sporting a heavy beard shadow.
Cate finger-combed her hair in a hopeless effort to smooth the tangles but gave up after her fingers caught for the fourth time.
“Frau Bieri sent up some kind of strudel thing.” He tipped his head toward the bag on the bed. “You should eat it so you don’t insult her.” He sipped more of his coffee and pinned her gaze with his. “And then you can tell me the part you left out.”
She frowned. “What part?”
“The part you left out when you briefed all of us about what happened in London.” His gaze didn’t waver, giving her no escape. “You followed an address, never made it there, and suddenly, you’re in Zurich. You said something about poking around and thinking your supposedly dead man might be alive in Europe.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “What did you find in London, before or after, that you haven’t told us?”
Cate set her mug on the tiny table beside the bed, her brow furrowing, unsure what to say or whether her hunch was even valid.
“You can’t lie to me,” Draco said softly. “Even by omission. It was your rule.”
“My rule was for you not to lie to me,” she said in a pathetic attempt to deflect his question.
“Hmm.” His eyebrows rose. “Seems that rule should go both ways.”
She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a cell phone.
Draco’s brow dipped. “Where did you get a cell phone?”
She gave him half a smile. “When you stepped into the restaurant hallway, Dmytro handed it to me. It’s loaded with numbers to Hammer, Dmytro, my father, you and other members of the Brotherhood Protectors International. The nice thing is that it’s a smartphone. I was able to connect to my email account.” She ran her thumbs over the screen’s keyboard without looking up.
“Are you calling someone now?” he asked.
“No,” she said and continued going through different screens. “Like I said in front of everyone at Hammer’s office, I never made it to the freight office in London. I was in the car park when I was taken.” She frowned at the cell phone and focused on what she was doing. “They took my cell phone, passport, wallet, laptop and luggage...basically everything.”
“And?”
She gave a twisted smile. “I’ve been a private investigator for several years. I learned a long time ago that pictures, documents and any kind of evidence can be lost or stolen. First thing I do when I find something is to take a picture of it, make a copy, store it in my database and send it to myself in an email. Sounds like overkill, but it’s saved me a number of times.” She touched her thumb to a button on the cell phone and held it up to Draco. “I did that with the bill of lading I found in the photo frame in Dana’s house. I took several pictures of it from all angles, front and back, stored it in my database and sent it to myself in an email. What you see is the image of that bill of lading from the email I was able to access once Dmytro handed me the smartphone.”
On the screen was a photo of the creased document laid flat across Cate’s kitchen counter.
Draco leaned close to study the image.
Cate moved and enlarged a portion of the image by touching her fingers to the screen. “The shipper is the company in London that forwarded the freight, the one on the bill of lading’s letterhead. The consignee is Alpenhorn Relief Logistics.” She moved the document to display a different part. “The description of the cargo caught my attention.” She pointed at the words. “Emergency shelter units. Water purification tablets. Field medical kits.”
Draco shrugged. “Humanitarian supplies. So?”
“Marcus Calloway had signature authority over that specific category of supplies. He was in charge of contracts for humanitarian supplies—writing specs, approving vendors and certifying delivery.”
Draco’s gaze met hers. “You think he moved the cargo he contracted through a freight company he had personal contact with?”
