“A coin.”

“See this guy on here, the one wearing the laurel? See this name? This is Augustus Caesar, founder of the Roman Empire. And this cow on the back—it’s a heifer. This coin? It was made somewhere between 27 and 18 B fucking C. It’s worth millions.”

“Of dollars?” Sawyer managed.

“There are only a handful of these known to exist. One went up for auction a couple years back. Went for, I think it was about fifteen, and yeah, brother, that’s freaking million.”

“It will buy hiking boots.”

Riley stared at Annika as if she’d grown gossamer wings. “You could buy a small third-world country with what’s in this sack, and I’ve only skimmed over a part of it. Where the hell did you get this?” She shook the gold coin.

“I found it.”

“You . . . found it.”

“Yes. It’s fun to find things, and I like pretty things. Do you like it?”

“I freaking love it.”

“You can have it.”

“Say what?”

“You can keep it. A gift.”

Seeing Sawyer about to speak, Riley held up a finger. “You’re going to just give it to me.”

“You like it, so a gift. For a friend.”

“Riley, you can’t—”

She cut Sawyer off with a look. “What do you take me for? Can I have another one instead?”

“One you like better? Yes, you pick. Everyone should pick one, the one they like better.”

“I’d like this.” Riley picked an old drachma. “Ten, maybe fifteen bucks,” she told Sawyer. “I’m going to keep it with me, for good luck. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Sawyer, you pick! You came for me. Pick something pretty.”

He kept it simple, picked out a U.S. quarter. “For good luck.”

“Sasha is next. Pick one!”

“Take one of the pieces of eight,” Riley told her. “You know you want to.”

“It’s too—”

“Believe me, she can spare it. Go ahead.”

“For luck then. Thank you, Annika.”

“Now, Bran. Breakfast was very, very good. Pick one.”

For sentiment, he took an Irish punt, then kissed her cheek. “You’re a fine, good friend, darling. Now, will you trust me with your coins, as I’d like to put them somewhere safe.”

“I trust my friends. You’re my friend.”

“And you’re a rare flower. Let’s get these back in the bag here.”

“The Augustus,” Riley began.

“It’s handled it so far. I’ll put these away, Annika, and today we’ll buy you your hiking boots and whatever else there is. A gift from us.”

“Oh, thank you.”

He hefted the bag, looked at Sawyer, Riley, Sasha. “Trust me with it?”

“You wouldn’t break her trust,” Sasha said.

“Make it right and tight, Irish.” Riley blew out a breath when he nodded and walked back into the house. “Hey, Sawyer, how about you and Annika handle the KP. Sash and I will deal with the chickens today.”

“Sure. Let’s clear the table, get the dishes done.”

“Then we’ll go shopping?”

“Looks like.”

Riley gestured to Sasha, walked out of earshot. “Is she, you know, challenged?”

“Oh, no, it’s not that. She’s . . . I don’t know how else to describe what I get from her. She’s pure.”

“It’s more than that. I’m not saying she’s not pure, but she’s evading. People just don’t find priceless coins on the floor, on the ground, in the back of a drawer. And she had hundreds of coins. Hundreds, and the couple dozen I saw? Even taking out the heifer, she had a tidy little treasure there. Where’d she get it?”

“If you think she stole it, I have to say I don’t think she’s capable of that sort of dishonesty.”

“I don’t think she stole them, but, Sash, I make my living finding things, and I’m damn good at it. Nobody’s good enough or lucky enough to just find coins like that.”

Riley paused at a little shed, pulled out two buckets, scooped feed into one of them.

“She would’ve given it to me. She’d have been happy to give me that priceless coin, so money doesn’t mean a thing to her. There are secrets in there, and likely major ones.”

“I know. I know it, but I just don’t want to push her to tell us. I’d rather she told us when she’s ready to.”

Riley angled over a look as they walked past the garden to the clucking chickens. “A lot of people, probably most, get pissed when someone holds something back, then lets it spill.”

“I think we’re all entitled to judge for ourselves when and if we’re ready to tell our secrets. Everyone has them.”

“Let’s all remember that. Okay, do me a favor?”

“If I can.”

“I’ve got that five riding with Bran that I can get our new girl in, outfitted, and out inside twenty minutes. Help me keep it moving, will you?”

“Sure. What are friends for?” Frowning now, she watched the chickens strut around—and stare at the humans, she thought, with tiny eyes. “I don’t know how to feed chickens. Or get eggs from them.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Riley lost the bet. Despite the team effort, it took twice the time she’d calculated to outfit Annika in practical hiking-wear. She figured she could’ve gotten herself in and out in a fraction of that time, but then again, she didn’t insist on touching every freaking thing first.

Bran simply held out his hand, and she slapped five euros into it. And found it hard to bitch too much as he took out a credit card to pay for Annika’s boots and shoes, and the hat he’d snagged for Sasha, as it matched the one she’d drawn on herself in her dream sketch.

“You rich, Irish?”

“I’ve enough to cover this. And with what we’ve locked away, she’s more than good for it.” He glanced over to see Annika holding up a bright pink rash guard, turning this way and that in the mirror while Sawyer just grinned at her.

“Better get her out of here before she decides she needs to try on another two dozen things.”

“God, you’d think we were trolling at Saks instead of a sporting goods store. Hey, princess! Let’s move out.”

“Can we get more? Do they have earrings? I like earrings.”

“Some other time. Some help here, Sawyer.”

They flanked her, maneuvered her—now clad in boots, cargoes, T-shirt, vest, and hat—to the door.

“I can pitch in with this.” Sasha moved up behind Bran.

“Quicker this way, and we can sort it all out later.” He picked up the hat, settled it on her head. “Suits you. Why don’t you go make sure Annika doesn’t drag them into another shop?”

Maybe he was the fáidh, Sasha thought as Annika was indeed trying to negotiate her way into a gift shop with a display window full of trinkets.

“We’ll come back.” Going the direct route, Sasha grabbed Annika’s hand and tugged.

“I like shopping. There are so many pretty things.” She frowned down at her boots as they walked to the car. “The boots are not pretty.”

“Neither is twisting an ankle on a rough trail,” Riley declared, and let out a whoosh of relief when they piled in the jeep with Sasha and Sawyer sandwiching Annika between them in the back.

Bran came out, stowed the bags, dropped into the passenger seat.

“Thank you for all my things, even the boots.”

Riley punched it, headed out of the village.

“We may have to look into a bigger ride,” Sawyer called out over the wind.

“I’ve got plenty of room.” Riley flicked a glance in the rearview mirror, smirked.

“If we do find the guy in Sasha’s sketch, no way he’s going to fit in here.”

“We haven’t found him yet. Any feel on that, Sash?”

“I just know we will.” She watched the world rush by, and thought how quickly she’d grown used to Riley’s speedy driving. “He rides a dragon.”

“A what now?”

Sasha shook her head. “I don’t know where that came from or what it means. We’ll find him, or he’ll find us.”

Riley turned, headed inland. The land rose into hills and forests with bright splashes of wildflowers, a blinking flash of a small settlement. Lambs, fluffballs of white, played in olive groves. She could no longer smell the sea, but instead the warm, sunstruck green of cypress and olive.