Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“That sounds so final when you say it like that.”

She hesitated, not wanting to leave him with any sense of false hope. “Maybe if we’d met at a different time in our lives, things might have been different.”

“So, my timing was off?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s the argon laser, right? The moment I bring it up, the women run,” Sam said, a forced smile on his face and sadness in his eyes.

“No, no, I wish you good luck with that.” She blinked back her tears. “I’m sorry we didn’t find that treasure. You could have invested in yourself.”

“You never know. Maybe I’ll win the lotto. Which reminds me. When I do, I owe you a new wardrobe.”

“Don’t you have to buy a ticket?”

“I knew there was a catch. Buy me one when you get back to the States?”

She laughed, then stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Goodbye, Sam Fargo.”

He placed his finger beneath her chin, lifted it slightly, and kissed her on the lips. “Goodbye, Remi Longstreet.” Then, kissing her once more, he let her go, his brown eyes somber. “Safe travels.”

Remi, feeling as if there was so much more she should’ve said, watched him walk off. When he looked back, she tried to wave, but a crowd of tourists rushed into line behind her, blocking her view. With a sigh, she entered the line for security.

A white-haired woman in front of her turned a knowing gaze in her direction. “So hard saying goodbye to someone you love.”

It took a moment for Remi to realize she was talking to her. “Oh, we’re just friends.”

“Are you?” The woman’s eyes held a hint of disbelief. “I’m not sure he knows that.”

A much younger woman glanced back, and in Greek, said, “ Mána , mind your own business.” Then, in English, to Remi, said, “If you haven’t guessed by now, my mother likes to insert herself into everyone’s lives.”

Recognition hit as Remi looked from the younger woman to her mother. “You were both at Tassos’s funeral. Helena?”

The older woman smiled. “That’s the beauty of these smaller islands. We’re always running into someone we know.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I should probably catch up with my daughter.”

The younger woman had already turned away, putting her carry-on and her mother’s onto the conveyor. Remi did the same, then passed through the metal detector, collecting her bag and purse on the other side. Items in hand, she looked for a quiet spot to call her own mother.

“You’re actually at the airport?”

“I’m heading to the gate now.”

“It’s probably a good thing. I’m not sure this young man you’ve met is someone you should be spending so much time with.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sam Fargo. Olivia told me he followed you to Greece.”

Remi wasn’t sure who she was more upset with. Olivia for telling her mother, or her mother for inserting her opinion into Remi’s relationships. “Well, then. You should be happy. We broke up.”

“Oh . . . Remi. I’m sorry. Let me know if you want to talk about it. In the meantime, your father and I were thinking, why don’t you just come back to Boston? We’ll have your car shipped, your furniture put in storage, and you won’t have to worry about anything but flying home. I probably should have asked, but I changed out the colors in your room. It’s so much brighter.”

It was moments like this that reminded her why it was she’d moved all the way out to California in the first place. Their idea of how her life should run differed vastly from hers. “Mom. I’m not moving home.”

“Yes, yes. You say that now. Don’t worry, dear, we’ll talk about it when you’re back in the States.”

Trying to discuss anything with her mother once she’d set her mind on something was futile. “Boarding the plane now. Love you, bye.”

She disconnected before her mother had a chance to interject anything else.

At the gate, Helena saw Remi, and walked up. “I recognize that look,” she said.

“What look?”

“The same one my daughter gives to me when she doesn’t like something I tell her.” Her dark eyes sparkled as she reached out, clasping Remi’s hand. “You’ll make the right decision. I see it in your eyes.”

Helena’s daughter walked up at that moment. “Ignore her. When we get on the plane, she’ll find a new friend to torment.” Then, in Greek, added, “ Mána . Don’t do this at the wedding. Please.”

Remi glanced at the woman, who seemed unfazed by her daughter’s mild rebuke as she gathered her bag, then followed her to two available seats in the waiting area.

With almost an hour to go until her own plane boarded, Remi settled back in her chair to wait. The longer she sat there, however, the more she heard the woman’s parting refrain: You’ll make the right decision.

What decision? Definitely not about moving home. That was never going to happen. Thirty minutes later, a loudspeaker overhead announced her flight. She got in line, handed over her ticket, then walked out the door to her plane.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

Once Remi was safely on her way, Sam spent the next several days being interviewed by Interpol agents about every aspect of the case involving Adrian Kyril—from the time Sam arrived on Fourni after receiving Remi’s call to the moment they were trapped in the tunnel on Megalos Anthropofas after Minerva Kyril’s helicopter appeared.

At least there was some good news. With the death of Minerva Kyril, and the cooperation of her husband, not only were the Greek authorities finally able to shut down the drug empire, but they’d figured out how Minerva, the brains behind the operation, had managed to transport the heroin. The key had been those glass tubes Sam had reported seeing in the warehouse. The heroin was sealed inside the tubes, then placed inside the tins, which were filled with olive oil. That, in turn, made a nonpermeable barrier around the drugs, preventing them from being detected. So, while her husband was running the legitimate olive oil business, she had been smuggling drugs right beneath his nose.

After more than a week, with the close of the investigation, they informed Sam he was free to return home, with the stipulation that he and Remi would both need to return to testify when the case went to court.

None of that mattered to Sam. His mind had been on Remi. After she’d left, the cottage, the island, everything seemed far too quiet. It gave him too much time to think about what he might have done to change the way things ended between them, or what he might have said that would have made a difference. He’d called a couple of days after she’d departed, just to check up on her. When she didn’t answer, he left a voice mail asking her to call back. Two days later, after no response, he decided to send a text: Did you make it home?

She texted back two words: Yes. Thanks.

His instinct was that he needed to let her be. And so he did. Remi had his number. She’d call or she wouldn’t. The choice had to be hers.

When the day finally came for him to leave Fourni, he slung his backpack over his shoulder, grabbed his carry-on and walked down to the port. Though he shouldn’t have been surprised, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness when he saw Manos, Denéa, Zoe, Dimitris, and Nikos waiting for him on the dock. He shook hands with Manos, then smiled at Denéa. “Thanks for all your help and with Remi.”

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll miss her. And you.”

Dimitris gave a sheepish smile as he held out his hand. “If not for you . . .”

Sam shook the young man’s hand. “Glad I could be there for you. Take care of Zoe.”