Chapter Three

Oscar's initial Intel report – the one that had triggered his sending Steve to Greece – had been vague, sketchy and, unfortunately wrong. Steve figured out almost immediately that his captors were not the original buyers Michael had arranged to sell Jaime to. They knew his name – which the original group did not – and although they were asking questions about 'the woman', their knowledge of Jaime seemed very limited....at first. Without any accurate Intel to guide him, Steve was flying solo – and blind. Very carefully, he tried to figure out a way to not only save himself but to bring this group into custody without any more bloodshed.

He'd tried to give them a fake name (the one on his equally fake passport), but they weren't buying it. "We know who you are, Colonel Austin," the leader told him with a sneer. "Now you will tell us about the woman."

"What woman? You saw me get off the plane – I came alone," Steve asserted.

"This time perhaps. But several weeks ago, you were also here – and with a woman our associates were ready to pay an obscene amount of money for. We need to know who she is, what makes her worth such a sum...and where we can find her." So there could be no doubt of whom he was speaking, the man thrust a picture into Steve's bound hands. It had been taken the afternoon that Jaime and Steve were eating gryos on the hotel veranda (right before Michael took her away). The photo left no doubt that they were together, and Steve fell silent as the man shoved a second picture toward him – a close-up (taken with a strong zoom lens) of Jaime's face.

"Who is she?" the leader demanded again.

Steve shrugged. "If ya do find her, let me know – she owes me money!"

"What money?"

Steve did his best to feign embarrassment. "Well, I sort of...hired her. You guys know what I mean, right?" He gave the gunmen that surrounded him a conspiratorial wink. "Pretty girl, hangs around a hotel....we made a deal, then when I went to the john, she took off with my money!"

"She tell you her name?" the leader asked gruffly.

Steve pretended to concentrate. "Lisa Something-or-Other....I think. She didn't seem American or British – didn't speak English too well – but she knew what I wanted." He grinned lasciviously. "Guess that's what you call a universal language, huh?"

- - -

Jaime stepped off the plane and into a taxi with absolutely no idea where to start looking. Without Interpol backing her up, she might be safer, but she also had no Intel to guide her way. Like Steve, like was flying blind. She decided to go back to where the trouble had started – the hotel that had been the place of origin on their first trip to Greece. The driver carried Jaime's bags into the hotel, but she didn't even get a chance to go inside before a slightly-familiar voice greeted her from the beach bar.

"You're back again?" the bartender called to her. He'd been the one who'd tossed Jaime a coin for the pay phone when Michael was gunning for her, then ducked behind the bar and crawled to safety as Jaime was shot. Jaime didn't know it, but he'd also witnessed her abduction by Michael a few days later, accepting money from Michael to keep his mouth shut and then telling all to Steve and the police any way.

Jaime didn't know whose side he might be playing for, but he seemed very eager to talk to her, so she approached the bar. "Couldn't get enough of the place, I guess," she said, leaning casually toward him. "So I came back for more."

The bartender looked nervously in every direction before turning toward Jaime again. "I sure hope you don't mean that literally, Miss. 'Cause if I was you, I'd be layin' low right about now. There's some pretty nasty people lookin' to hunt you down...."

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