Page 55 of Don't Look Back

Her brain was spinning, and she wanted more than anything to talk to Rand. But dammit, he was taking orders from Freya, who wasn’t even part of this.

“You’ve opened Pandora’s box by coming here. Many think you’ve taken up your father’s mantle.”

“Are you one of thosemany?”

“I was, but your surprise appears genuine. Which makes me wonder what else your father didn’t tell you.”

“I’m here because I was hoping to find the Stoltz family art.”

“But that, right there, is the problem.”

“How so?”

“That was the code your father used when he had information to share.”

ChapterTwenty-Seven

Kira remained in her seat, sipping her second cocktail long after Reuben left. Rand showed good judgment and didn’t approach her. She didn’t want to talk to him in public.

And she didn’t want to go back to her room, where they could talk in private.

There was too much hurt for her to be able to trust him just yet. But she feared she’d have to trust him because she was more certain than ever that she was in over her head and she needed help.

After twenty minutes, she rose to her feet and wandered up the street to the main road with all the shops and more restaurants. Rand followed her, but as long as he kept his distance, she wouldn’t complain.

It occurred to her that two boozy cocktails weren’t the best dinner, and even though she wasn’t hungry, she needed to eat. She stepped up to the host stand of the first restaurant she saw and requested a table. The heat of the day had lessened as they entered evening hours, but the sun wouldn’t set for another hour and a half, so it was far from cool, and this part of the city lacked the Mediterranean breeze.

My next trip to Malta won’t be in summer.

She tripped over that thought. Would she really come back? The country itself was stunning. The locals were kind. But from the first vaguely threatening text message to learning it was possible her father was a Russian spy, she couldn’t say she was enjoying herself.

Her first European vacation wasnotgoing as planned.

She’d really thought her father was a hero, recovering art that belonged to Holocaust survivors.

It was a pretty fantasy. She’d wanted to find proof that her mother’s secret life in the US—Kira’s very existence—had some sort of noble purpose behind it. She’d spun fanciful tales about her mother fleeing the USSR and then working with her father to translate communications for her father that helped him pinpoint which oligarch was living large with someone else’s treasure.

But it was all just fantasy. Her father had been doing something noteworthy, for sure, but exactly who he’d been working for remained a mystery.

Sometimes, history was better left buried.

Her mother had been prone to lengthy periods of depression. There were many half-finished canvases in the basement that had empty cradles or other symbols for a lost child. When Kira was in her late teens, she’d realized her mom must have experienced several miscarriages.

Once, she’d asked, and all her mom had said was,“Don’t look back.”She’d gripped Kira’s hands and repeated the words then added,“Regret is the sharpest knife.”

In two months, Kira would turn forty, an age when having children became increasingly questionable. Once upon a time, she’d fantasized about having children, but as the years passed, she’d realized it wasn’t something she wanted to do intentionally alone. And that was fine. She wouldn’t live a life of regret if motherhood wasn’t in the cards for her.

She’d seen her mother’s sadness due to biology beyond her control. At times, she’d felt inadequate—she hadn’t been enough for her mother.

She didn’t want any of those feelings to haunt her own future.

Rand settled at a table in the same section of the restaurant as hers. She ignored him as thoughts of a future that would never be and a past that made no sense consumed her.

Don’t look back.

The words took on ominous meaning with all the secrets and lies her parents had maintained.

Now she wondered if her mother had meant the words as a directive, not poetry.

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