The crooked smile returned, doing funny things to Kairo’s heart, but he ignored it. While he didn’t mention anything to Isidore, this had become about more than getting the Panopoulos siblings free and to safety. This time would also give him a chance to look more closely at Vanko. It wasn’t enough to simply escape. He wanted to make sure Vanko and his goons never troubled Isidore again.
4
ISIDORE PANOPOULOS
Isidore bolted uprightwhen their door banged open. He’d been lounging in bed, waking slowly as his mind turned over the memory of spending the previous day talking to Kairo. He’d rambled for hours, spilling everything he knew about the house, grounds, nearby town, and Vanko’s men.
Okay, so maybe some of his slow waking had been passed in idle daydreams about his new friend. Even though Kairo still refused to call him Izzie, he was sure they were going to be great friends.
At least, he wanted them to be friends after he convinced Kairo to forgive him for dragging him into his mess in the first place.
Those first minutes of consciousness had been filled with visions of Kairo’s warm amber eyes as they watched him so very closely, hanging on his every word. Kairo was the best listener he’d ever met. He made it feel like the entire world had fallen away and there was nothing outside their little room. Just the two of them.
Isidore also thought about the lock of wavy hair that had come loose from where Kairo had secured it earlier in the day. It’d taunted him all while they spoke until he was forced to sit on his hands to keep from reaching out to touch it. More than once Kairo had brushed it aside and tried to tuck it away again, but it always returned. Izzie was dying to touch that lock, to rub it between his thumb and forefinger to discover if it was silken or coarse.
But all those thoughts and questions were put on hold because Vanko had decided to start the day in a mood.
Isidore tossed aside the light blanket he’d used and jumped out of the bed a second behind Kairo. The man stood in front of him, protecting him, and this was not good. Isidore’s heart went from lazy to racing in the blink of an eye. If Kairo wasn’t careful he was going to piss Vanko off, and that only led to pain.
Stepping up close to Kairo, he placed a hand on his arm and tried to tug him so that he could step around him, but Kairo was not budging. He even threw Isidore a warning look.
Vanko stormed in with three bodyguards right on his heels. A gun was clenched in his fist and held out in front of him. He kept marching forward until the muzzle nearly touched Kairo’s forehead, stopping Isidore’s heart. Vanko didn’t give him a reason for it to restart.
“Where is she?” Vanko roared in English.
“What?”
“Where is she? Where’s that bitch sister of yours?” Vanko demanded, spittle flying from his lips in his rage.
“Wh-what? What are you talking about?” Isidore stammered. His heart began to hammer against his rib cage again. He took a step forward, hitting Kairo, who only threw out an arm to keep him in place and possibly upright. “Where is she? What did you do to my sister?”
“What did I do?” Vanko’s voice rose in volume and pitch with each word. He moved the gun to point at Isidore rather than Kairo, but the mercenary only reached behind him and moved Isidore so he was still positioned between Isidore and the gun. “She’s disappeared from her room. Where did she go? Did you tell her how to escape?”
“What? No! I haven’t seen my sister. If you’ll recall, you haven’t allowed me to see my sister for more than two days now!” Isidore shouted back at him. What had happened to Athena? Where could she have gone? Did one of Vanko’s men do something to her and then hide her to cover up his crime? “Have you asked your men? Have they touched my sister?”
“Whoa! Hold on!” Kairo shouted above both of them. He thrust his arms out to his sides to keep Isidore from climbing around him to get at Vanko. Isidore didn’t give a damn about guns or that he was horribly outnumbered. He would kill anyone who laid a hand on his sister.
“He—” Isidore shouted, but Kairo cut him off.
“Listen!” Kairo turned his head to glare at Isidore over his shoulder. Those bright eyes held him still. With it, some of the panic receded so he could breathe again. “Vanko knows that it’s not in his best interest to hurt Athena. We also know that you haven’t spoken to your sister, so you didn’t tell her to escape.”
“No. No, I wouldn’t do that. It’s too dangerous out there for her alone. Vanko promised she wouldn’t be harmed so long as I cooperated, which I have,” he finished through clenched teeth while pinning Vanko with the darkest stare he could muster. Unfortunately, the evil bastard didn’t seem to be moved in the least.
Kairo turned his attention back to Vanko. “And I feel like it’s a safe bet that she wouldn’t leave here without her brother.”
Vanko watched Kairo for a couple of tense seconds before lowering the gun to his side. “True.”
“Then that means she’s pissed that you aren’t allowing her to see her brother and she’s probably found a damn good hiding spot somewhere in the house. Your men need to do a better job of searching the house. You can even start in here.”
Vanko’s twisted lip curled as he motioned for the men to search the room, but it took only a few seconds for them to peek into the tiny closet and to glance under the beds. There was nowhere else for an adult to hide in that room.
Once they were satisfied, Vanko grunted and ordered his men to search the house again. He barked some threats at them, but Isidore paid no attention. His mind was filled with thoughts of Athena. Where was his sister? What could have happened to her?
A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and he blinked, somewhat surprised to find that he was staring down into Kairo’s worried expression as the man moved him back toward his bed. With a shove, Isidore sat on the thin mattress with a squeak of the springs. His nervous fingers instantly snatched up the blanket he’d been using and twisted the worn material.
“Where is she? Do you think Vanko hurt her? Or one of his men?”
Kairo didn’t answer right away. He picked up his jeans from where he’d draped them over the foot of the bed and pulled them on over the dark-red boxer briefs he’d worn to sleep in. Isidore knew he should get dressed as well, but he couldn’t get himself to move. It didn’t seem as important as his current problem.