by Geri Krotow
“You’re okay with watching Koshka?” She knew her companion for the last couple of years would be in good hands.
Annie nodded. “Of course. I adore that smarty-pants.”
A giggle escaped Kit’s throat. “She sees you coming a mile away.” Koshka always jumped up on Annie’s lap the minute she sat down in Kit’s apartment.
“We’ll be just fine while you’re gone. And so will you, Kit.”
Kit sure hoped so.
“Did you tell Colt or Claudia about your possible stalker?”
“No, but I will. It’s been nonstop for me between my caseload and preparing to go in the field.”
“Have you had any more incidents?”
“No, except I did see Mishka at the diner yesterday.”
Annie put her coffee down. “Wait—you didn’t even call me! What did he say?”
“Nothing. He ignored me, after he gave me a really hard stare. That’s it.”
“That’s creepy.”
“He’s always been a creep, no question. He picked up a to-go order and left, nothing to report.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way. Still, tell Colt.” Annie picked up her coffee and stood to leave. Kit followed, preoccupied with the memory of seeing Mishka yesterday and how she’d not reacted. She wanted to believe it was a measure of how far she’d come, but was it because of Luther sitting across from her?
She made a silent vow not to get too reliant on Luther’s strength.
It’s too late.
* * *
Kit made her way up the steep stairs of her century-old apartment building, silently cursing the planet-killing plastic grocery bags as they cut into her forearms. She’d bought too much for it to all fit into her reusable bags and had hung the plastic bags on her arms to avoid multiple trips up and down the stairs. Living on the top floor was appealing most of the time, affording her a view of the sunrise and sunset over downtown Silver Valley, from her front room and back bedroom windows.
The two long flights of stairs also gave her some decent exercise on a daily basis. But lugging pounds of food upstairs wasn’t fun, no matter how fit she was .
She crested the last rise and stepped on the landing. And froze.
Luther stood in front of her apartment door. The only light was a single overhead bulb and the quickly failing daylight that shone through the high, small window at the opposite end of the hallway. The twilight glowed around Luther, emphasizing the long lean mass of muscle that defined his physique. He leaned against the corridor wall, his phone in hand as if he’d been passing the time while waiting for her. His gaze was on her, as he’d probably heard her footfalls since she’d entered the building.
“You’re early.” It was five forty-five and they’d agreed on six.
His dark brow rose, and in the dim light she couldn’t see what emotions reflected in his eyes.
“Hello to you, too.” He quickly consumed the space between them in a few long strides. Grasping several of the bags, he took them from her.
“Sorry. I like to have things planned to the minute, too much so. It’s good you’re early. I’m planning to go to the Friday night knit and chat at the yarn shop, at seven.” He walked with her to her door and she immediately noticed how natural it felt.
“No apology necessary. I get it. Our line of work necessitates exact timelines.” He faced her at the door. “You’re in good shape, Kit. I’ve only got half of what you’re hauling up here and it’s heavy.” Just as he had in the diner, he complimented her without sounding like it was a slimy means to get closer to her. Not something she’d experienced in her marriage.
She didn’t reply as she shoved her key into the lock. Hoisting a bag onto her hip, she turned the handle and pushed open the door. “Come on in. You can put everything on the counter.”
She felt Luther’s presence behind her, his footsteps quiet but definite. The door clicked closed behind them, and she knew he’d taken care to check it—the hinges were rusty and prevented the door from closing on its own.
A sense of pride filled her as she tried to see her home from his viewpoint. Cream tones on the living area walls yielded to bright sunny yellow in the kitchen, where a skylight positioned over the entire room spilled remaining daylight onto the granite counter. She dumped her bags, and Luther added his by hers while she flipped the switch, immediately illuminating the clean, cheery atmosphere she’d striven for when she’d decorated the apartment two years ago.
“Nice place.” His appreciation seemed sincere as his gaze took in her knickknacks, the potted herbs and the floral monthly planner attached to the refrigerator with magnets. “You’re supposed to be going to the yarn place at seven?” In this light she could see his eyes, and their dark depths yielded to deep, deep blue with specks of gray.
“Yes. Every Friday night that I’m not working. It’s a fun place to hang out.” She looked at her watch. “We’ve got plenty of time to get our work done.”
“I still can’t get over the fact that you knit.” His incredulity struck an old chord, a tight wire she’d thought she’d clipped and thrown out. She crossed her arms in front of her and looked up at him, refusing to break eye contact.
“What’s your problem with fiber art?”
“Fiber...art?” He ran his hand over his face, and if she hadn’t met him while he was a cool and put-together agent back at the station, in Colt’s office, she’d swear he was trying to regroup. Backpedaling, to recall one of her favorite American expressions.
“Do you think that I’m supposed to be working 24/7?”
“No, none of the above. You impressed me as all business, though, back at the department and at lunch the other day. Of course you have outside interests, but I associate knitting with my grandmother. I know it’s more popular again, and I’m not slamming you.”
“Good to know. What are your hobbies?” If she was going to allow her hormones to have their first outing since her hard-won freedom from the enslavement of her abusive marriage, she may as well know something about the man who’d awakened that part of her.
The sexy part.
“Ah, well, I enjoy hiking, rock climbing. Skiing when I have more time. But the last few years have been short on recreation.”
“Because you’re working on ROC?”
He looked at her as if sizing up an opponent. What on earth? How could she pose any kind of threat to him, the seasoned agent who’d won the approval of Claudia Michele and Colt Todd? Kit knew that only the best were assigned to the ROC takedown. All of SVPD worked on the resulting crimes—drug dealing, high-end retail thefts, money laundering, prostitution from the human trafficking that had finally been halted.
“Yes. Ivanov in particular. I’m one of many who’d give their left nut to have him in jail.”
She laughed. “I can’t say I’d give one of my ovaries to catch Ivanov and Markova, but I’m willing to do pretty much whatever it takes.”
The mission to dismantle ROC by eliminating Ivanov was left to only the best of the best.
Kit knew this because, so far, she hadn’t met anyone with her Russian language ability. Not in the Harrisburg area, anyway. There were thousands of Russian-speaking Americans in the Susquehanna Valley but not so many with her background of having been trafficked and then escaping, followed by becoming a law enforcement employee. And Luther had to be the best TH had to offer.
“I need to get these organized, the cold stuff in the refrigerator.” Kit grasped at any distraction from his gaze, her reaction to his nearness too much of a distraction.
“This looks like enough food for a month.” Luther grinned as he methodically unpacked the bags, handing her the perishables and stacking the nonperishables on the counter.
“It’s not all for our trip.” She opened her freezer, a drawer at the bottom of the appliance, and dropped in several bags of vegetables. “
I figure I’ll be tired when we get back and I was low on food. This way I won’t have to go to the grocery store right before I get back to work.”
“Do you always think ten steps ahead?”
She paused and looked at him over her shoulder. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“That sounds like the makings of a good agent to me.”
She slowly straightened and faced him. As she opened her mouth to reply, a shadow passed over Luther’s face. Over the entire kitchen. The words she’d meant to say came out as a loud scream and she pointed.
Luther looked up just in time to see the man with the gun pointed at them through the skylight.
* * *
“Move!”
Luther acted on pure instinct and years of experience. He simultaneously shoved and lifted Kit up and out of the kitchen area, the sound of bullets shattering the skylight piercing the dusky quiet. He motioned toward the door as he pulled his weapon, and Kit bolted for their escape, opening it and running into the corridor with him on her heels.
“Go downstairs and into the coffee shop—have someone call 9-1-1.”
“Where are you going?”
“No time to explain. Just go.”
Her firm request took him by surprise. Other agents usually followed his orders without question. Footsteps sounded over their head, and he ran down the hallway to the other end of the building. Where the steps to the roof were. He’d checked out the entire building before he’d waited at Kit’s door.
Halting abruptly at the foot of the stairs, Kit barreled into him.
“Downstairs, now!” He bellowed at her before he began the climb to the roof. To his relief she turned and ran back down the hall toward the main apartment stairwell. It allowed him to refocus and aim his gun in front of him as he prepared to open the door onto the roof.
His Glock .45 cocked and ready to fire, he opened the door slowly. The winter air hit his cheeks and then his lungs as he came out and did a full 360 sweep of the top of the building. The shooter was gone, the broken glass of Kit’s skylight the only evidence he’d been there. Until a movement caught his eye and he saw the figure, dressed all in black, on the next rooftop.
“Stop! Police!” He began a full pursuit, bracing himself for what he had to do. It wasn’t more than a six-foot gap between this building and the next, but if he missed it—no, he wouldn’t. His rock climbing skills proved worthy as he leaped across the gap, landing on his feet on the tarred roof. He ran to the back, to where the fire escape provided a quick escape for the assailant.
But as he reached the edge of the roof and looked over, he saw the shooter disappear across the street, on the other side of the railroad tracks that ran through downtown Silver Valley.
“Son of a puppy.” He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for SVPD. Detailing where he thought the shooter might be headed, he heard sirens already on the way.
But just like him, he was afraid the units were too late. The shooter had gotten away.
He put the phone in his back pocket and holstered his weapon, climbing down the fire escape, which landed him in front of the back entrance to the coffee shop. When he’d picked the apartment flat he had, he’d had no idea he and Kit were in the same building. Now that he knew they were, he’d thought he’d make sure she was safe throughout all of this op. He hadn’t planned to tell her he was in the same building, not yet. Luther was a man with many targets on his head—the price for being a good agent.
But the shooter had been over Kit’s skylight, and when Luther looked up, they were pointing their weapon at Kit.
Who was after Kit? And was it going to jeopardize the overall mission to bring down Ivanov and Markova?
Chapter 7
“Did you see his face, Kit?”
“No. He was wearing a hood and all I saw was that gun. I know it was a Sig Sauer .22. Vadim used to make me keep one when he was out of the house, and I had to verify it was unloaded and hand it back to him whenever he came home.” She hated that Luther sat on the sofa across from her and Colt and Claudia. They’d left the evidence collection for several other SVPD officers and were debriefing in a small flat across from her apartment. She’d ascertained it was the place Luther temporarily rented. He certainly was a covert operative—she’d never realized anyone had filled the space since the previous renters left two months ago.
“Have you ever been targeted like this before?”
She met Luther’s gaze as she fought against the churning in her gut. “No, not since my divorce, months before, actually. And why do you think I’m the one the shooter was taking aim at? The window shattered right above where you were standing.” She didn’t want to talk to him about Mishka, or about any part of her past. She’d have to mention it to Claudia, though. And Colt.
His dark brow rose, as did one side of his mouth. “I’ve been in this town less than forty-eight hours, and I utilize the best counterdetection skills I have. To include technology.”
She knew he meant that he had all of his cell phone signals scrambled and switched out SIM cards regularly.
“Wait.” Claudia spoke, and they both returned their attention to her. “There’s a good chance that this is another one of ROC’s diversion tactics. Last month they made it look like they’d set up human trafficking again, and both TH and SVPD dedicated bodies to the case.”
Colt nodded. “Only to find out that it was a false alarm. In the meantime, ROC managed to get another million dollars’ worth of heroin onto our streets and the entire Harrisburg metro area.”
Kit remembered the catastrophe, and how much Colt and Claudia had berated themselves for falling for the criminal organization’s bait. She and the other SVPD employees had been just as upset. It was infuriating to be duped by the lowest of the low.
“It could be a warning about going into the woods.” Kit thought aloud. “If they have any idea that we’re on Ivanov’s tail.”
Claudia shook her head. “No, it’s not that. As Luther said, he’s taken all necessary precautions. He hasn’t left any indications that he’s on to Ivanov’s whereabouts. The two of you never met alone together, for this op, before recently, correct?”
“Correct. Just earlier today at the station, and at the diner for lunch.” Kit looked from Claudia to Colt. “If this is about Luther and I going undercover, there’s no one who knows about it.” A memory tickled her conscience. “I mentioned that I was on an op to Annie at coffee earlier, that’s it. And when we were at the diner, I saw Mishka. Vadim’s son.”
“Mishka’s been given enough warnings to know that if he even appears to be communicating with his father again he’ll be behind bars. I don’t think he’d risk it—he’s worth more to ROC on the outside. It could be random.” Colt looked at all of them. “And I’d be willing to accept it as such, but not when it’s your apartment, Kit.”
“My apartment?” But as soon as she asked, she knew exactly what he meant. “You don’t think Vadim still has people coming after me?” Her ex had been prosecuted to the fullest extent and was serving a life sentence in a federal prison out of state. The earliest he’d be eligible for parole was in twenty years, and the chances of him living that long after such a hard-core ROC lifestyle was slim. An alcoholic, Vadim had shown signs of being near the end of his disease process. Only by having to be sober in prison was he still alive, she figured.
“Not Vadim. The chances of it being him, running ops from a federal pen, are slim. But we always knew that the higher echelons of ROC might come after you. You’re solely responsible for the dismantlement of their entire trafficking ring from Ukraine to Silver Valley.”
“Solely? Hardly. The excellent work of Annie and SVPD are what saved those women.” And her life, too. “And they don’t usually go after LEA. Why me, why now?”
“You’re an easy target, unsuspecting with all the other activities ROC is involved in at the moment.”
Luther’s quiet assessment was detached, void of emotion. So why did it stir up resentment in her?
“Wait a minute—are we getting to a place where I don’t go on the op with you? Because I’m too much of a risk?”
“No, you’re still going. It’s safer to have you out of Silver Valley for now. We’ll do what we can to find out about the shooter.” Claudia’s determination reflected in her voice. “There’s no way they know you two are working together. In fact, I’m thinking that if it was a way to scare you, Kit, the shooter may not have noticed Luther, and if they did, they don’t associate him with LEA.”
“That’s true.” Kit rubbed the tops of her arms.
“Cold?” Luther’s query cut through her racing thoughts.
“Yes, but I’m not in shock. Relax.” She saw the way he looked ready to leap to her aid. What would he do? Throw a blanket around her? “I may not be an operational officer but I’m no shrinking violet.”
“‘Shrinking’ and purple flowers aren’t something I’d compare you to.” Luther looked amused and she quickly glanced at her two bosses. But they were oblivious, in a quiet conversation, whispering with grim expressions. It tugged at Kit’s heart that ROC was affecting the couple. They were professional titans in their own rights, but also a married couple who clearly adored one another. As a cop or any type of LEA it was tough to come home and force the day’s work out of your head. It had to be especially difficult when you both worked for the same department or agency. Kit knew that Annie and Josh sometimes had trouble keeping work at work. Claudia and Colt probably did, too.
She looked at Luther to find him gazing at her bosses, a puzzled frown on his face. So it affected him, too.
“What are we going to do moving forward?” She needed to know if it was still a go at 0-dark-thirty tomorrow, or if she was to continue her regular police work as if nothing had happened.
“We’re going.” Luther spoke up, his voice resonating in the small space. Even with the open floor plan and generously sized kitchen, his apartment was still very modest, similar to hers. The thrum of the officers collecting evidence in her apartment sounded across the hallway, and drowned out Colt and Claudia’s conversation.
