by Geri Krotow
“Fine.” She got the message. He’d sent her all the signals that this was going to be business-only, no small talk or getting to know each other’s astrological signs. If Luther wanted her to be the stellar comms expert she was, as well as maintain total professional demeanor the entire time, which in this case meant behaving like a hunter, she could do it.
Only after they’d unloaded the back of the car as well as the gear on the back seat, did she enter the tiny dwelling.
“I suppose we’re lucky to have that.” She pointed at a single electrical outlet that was situated near the minuscule sink and counter. A table stood against one wall and held a propane camping stove and several pieces of comms gear, from walkie-talkie to disposable cell phones.
“It can handle the entire load of our equipment, plus we have a portable generator if need be. The gas for it is buried in a tank outside.”
“Where do we sleep?” She looked around the rest of the space. A beat-up sofa and two chairs she assumed had been part of the set with the table were all she saw. And a woodstove. “The floor?”
“Ye of little faith.” His teasing comment caught her attention after his “we are undercover, darn it” spiel. She watched as he walked two steps to the far wall and reached up to what she’d thought was nothing more than a paneled wall. His fingers moved. She heard a loud click before he lowered the panel and she saw that it held a double mattress, as well as two pillows. It rested on the back of the sofa, which made the bed angle back.
“That looks a little uncomfortable.”
“We’ll move the sofa out of the way.”
“So you get the bed and I get the sofa.” She reached down and grabbed her sleeping bag, tossed it on the sofa as if to claim it.
“We can alternate.”
“So you’re generous, are you?” The teasing comment came out of her mouth without her thinking about it. As if she’d known Luther longer than two days, as if she had no history of being anxious around men. An immediate rush of something warm and wonderful washed over her, and she tugged at the collar of her flannel shirt.
“Still hot?” He’d meant it with the most polite intention, she was certain. But his eyes held a small light in them that she either hadn’t noticed before or hadn’t wanted to see.
Luther Darby was the hot one here.
No, no, no. Why did her libido and need to be with a man decide to appear now, when she had such an important job to do? And when the man in question wasn’t someone she could ever count on. For her life and protection during this mission, sure, no doubt. But for the first man to get involved with, to be there to help her navigate new-to-her feelings?
Nope.
It was a good thing, really. Luther wasn’t someone she had to worry would want anything more from her than she was willing to give. He hadn’t pushed her on any of her past during their conversations so far. She’d revealed only what she was comfortable with.
His hand on her shoulder jolted her from her self-examination. Kit jumped, her calves hit the sofa cushions and she landed on her butt.
“Oof.”
“Whoa, sorry about that. Here.” His hand was in front of her, the offer to help her up like an olive branch. She grasped his hand and did her best to ignore how incredibly strong his grip felt, the calluses on his finger pads evident and hallmarks of a man who wasn’t afraid of hard work when necessary. Nothing like the soft, pudgy hands of her ex. The only time Vadim’s hands had been hard was when he’d hit her.
As soon as Kit was back on her feet, she scrambled to the side, standing near the open door. She rubbed her upper arms. “I’m going to get my coat—I left it in the car.”
“Sure.” To his credit he didn’t ask her what her problem was, or why she was so damn jumpy around him. Why would he? He knew what he needed to know about her.
Her jacket was on the passenger floor, where she’d left it. The chill of the day settled around the mountain and she shrugged into it, wishing she could text Annie that she’d had a flash of anxiety but had managed it. Her friend would text back an encouraging response or funny GIF. But they weren’t to do anything with their personal cell phones while out here, unless it was an emergency. It was too risky they’d be intercepted by ROC.
While Ivanov and his hostage Markova appeared to be operating separately from the main East Coast ROC collective, the LEAs couldn’t be certain. And being on their own didn’t mean the ROC bigwigs didn’t have their own comms equipment. One thing ROC’s heroin and human trafficking trade had done, besides almost decimating Silver Valley’s teens as well as the entire Harrisburg area, was bring in untold amounts of money. ROC’s technology was often more advanced than any legitimate LEA’s.
As she made the quick walk back to the cabin, she spotted a separate building, farther back in the woods, behind a grouping of large boulders. Curious, she walked toward it, wondering if it was an outhouse, or maybe storage facility.
To her delight it wasn’t only a bathroom with what looked like two real toilets as opposed to an old-fashioned outhouse, but it had a generous shower room with both hot and cold handles. Still suspicious, she turned one of the hot water dials and was rewarded with a stream of warm, then hot water.
“Do you need a shower already? We haven’t even gone on our first hike yet.” Luther’s voice made her jump, and she banged her hand on the piping before she calmed herself down enough to shut off the water. Turning on her booted heel, she faced him as her hands itched to shove at his chest and knock him off his feet.
“You really need to stop sneaking up on me.” Anger rushed in where she’d normally be fearful. “It’s not fair to put me in a place where I have to constantly explain why I’m such a nervous mess.”
Chapter 9
Luther wished he had the ability to turn back time, about thirty minutes or so. Before they’d arrived at the stakeout.
Before he’d put Kit back on edge.
Working with a partner who had combat-related PTSD wasn’t new to him. But a woman whose mental health had been so deeply affected by a husband who’d been forced on her while she was still a kid?
Nope, no experience to draw from there.
Her eyes were still on him, burning through to his soul.
He took a step back and held his hands up. “I’m sorry, Kit. It’s only natural for me to be extra quiet when working. I’ll try to let you know I’m coming next time.”
“I’d appreciate it.” She slapped her hand against the wall of the shower. “I hate being the person you have to worry about, when you’re working something so important.”
Her bottom lip jutted out, and she immediately bit down on it, her teeth in sharp contrast to the ruby red. Out here in the natural light she was more beautiful than she’d appeared at SVPD when they’d met, when she’d been in a business suit and had minimal but still detectable cosmetics on her skin. Now he saw how luminous it was, and understood why his fingers itched to touch her.
It’s more than her skin you want to touch, man.
He let out a long sigh, hoping to demonstrate that he wasn’t frustrated with her but with himself. “We have to get this clear right now. You’re totally within your wheelhouse to ask me to not go stealth when I come up to you, if you don’t make eye contact with me. But you need to do me a favor.”
“What’s that?” The wariness was back in her eyes, her breathing more shallow. Crap, no matter what he did or said it seemed to put her on edge.
“Stop playing the ‘terminally unique’ card. You’re not the first colleague I’ve had who’s dealt with the residual effects of traumatic events. In fact, I struggle with my own ‘old tapes’ of past takedowns and conflicts I’ve been in.”
“Oh.” He watched her digest his confession. And swallowed. He’d never told anyone about his own struggles with anxiety after his involvement with and the murder of Evalina; how he’d thought she’d died
at the hands of one of the ROC players he was tasked to bring in. A year and a half later, Luther still had nightmares.
“To this day I have flashbacks. They’re not nearly as rough as in the beginning and don’t last as long. Now, I’m in a place where I can actually use all those tools they give you when you first get diagnosed. The deep breathing, staying in the present moment, grounding to an inanimate object, or the best—petting your dog or cat.”
A smile spread across her face. Finally, he’d hit home plate with something. “You saw my cat, Koshka. She’s gotten me through an awful lot these past couple of years. I wish I could have brought her with us.”
He nodded. “I get it. Although the coyotes out here make it too much of a risk, if you ask me. Did you have her when you were still with your ex?” He genuinely wanted to know. It was almost a need, the way he tried to figure her out. He held the bathhouse door open for her as they made their way out.
“Heck no. Vadim wasn’t a fan of animals as pets, unless they were stuffed and hung on the wall.” She pushed past him and walked to a large tree, placing her hand on the bark. “I’d asked for a dog at one point, and he’d agreed as long as it was a guard dog, his words for a vicious attack dog. I passed. All I ever wanted to do was go to the local shelter and rescue a puppy.” She rubbed her palm against the rough bark as if it were a dog or cat. He figured the motion was soothing to her. “After I escaped, and was on my own for a while, I realized that my current lifestyle and small flat wouldn’t support a dog. But a cat—that was perfect. Annie knew a neighbor whose cat had unexpectedly had a litter, so I met Koshka when she was only a week old. Even then I knew she was mine, by the way she snuggled into my palm.” Her eyes were on him, looking at him with open speculation. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No.” He took a step toward her but stopped himself before he crossed into her personal space again. From the slight smile that curved her lips, he knew she didn’t miss it—that he’d paid attention when she’d asked him not to crowd her.
“It wouldn’t be out of the ballpark if you did.”
“That’s a strange way to use that expression, and I already told you, I’m familiar with anxiety and depression that’s caused and triggered by trauma. It’s not crazy or insane to react to a life-threatening event. It’s what makes us all human.”
“‘All’ of us?” Her brow rose and the skepticism was back, even after what he’d told her about his own experiences with PTSD.
“Yes.” He turned toward the cabin, their home base for at least the next twenty-four hours, unless by some tactical miracle they intercepted and located Ivanov before then. “I’ll finish setting up. Take your time out here. We’ll be spelling one another—ah, I mean taking turns being on watch, awake, as soon as we get started, so count this as your first break.”
Leaves and small twigs crunched and snapped under his feet but they weren’t loud enough to keep her reply from reaching his ears.
“Aye aye, Captain.”
Good thing he wasn’t facing her as the grin on his face probably made him look far from the competent agent this op required.
* * *
He looked around the room and decided to set up the kitchen area. Kit would handle the comms equipment when she came back in. After a quick look out the small, side window to make sure she was still within shouting distance, he got to work. The minifridge was cold so he shoved their dairy and other perishables on its shelves, then moved it aside and under the table. The portable comms rack set up quickly, the half-a-dozen electronic units stacking vertically.
Next, he focused on setting up the handguns and rifles he’d checked out from the TH weapons locker. Only two items were legit hunting gear: the crossbow and slide-bolt hunting rifle. The rifle met his standards for elk hunting, but the cartridges they’d brought were the best for deer. Not that he intended to take down any animals on this trip, save for Ivanov or Markova if he had to. But he and Kit might be out here for a long while, and it was imperative they keep up their cover. As hunters with deer season opening on Monday, they’d be faced with actually hunting if this op went longer than the weekend.
He’d brought his grandfather’s vintage rifle for Kit to carry when they conducted their faux hunting activities.
Work kept his hands occupied, but since he’d done so many similar ops, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering, alert for Kit’s return. He knew the basics; she’d been lured to the States by some bad guys, forced into an arranged marriage to a man old enough to be her grandfather. Anger steamed his thoughts and he clenched the rifle barrel as he set it next to the door.
“You look ready to kill a bear.”
He snapped his gaze to her face. “Your turn to sneak up on me.”
“I wasn’t sneaking. Just practicing. How do you walk so quietly when there are dry pieces of wood everywhere?” She motioned at the ground. A puff of her breath crystallized in the air.
“Practice.” He stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. “Come on in. The sun’s on the other side of the mountain and the temps are dropping.” He ignored the scent of her hair—strawberry something?—as she moved inside and took stock of his quick work.
“You’ve done a lot in ten minutes.”
He shut the door and put the barrier beam across it. “We don’t have a lot and there’s not much room, so...”
“I’m going to need a place to sit with the laptop. I can used the sofa, but do you have any problem with me taking up some space on that table?”
“I have something better.” He pulled a beat-up TV tray from under the couch. “As long as you don’t mind eating from paper plates on our laps, this is yours.”
She took the pale pink aluminum apparatus from him and looked at it as if it were an alien spaceship. “What on earth is this?”
“A TV tray. Let me guess, they didn’t use these in Ukraine?”
She shook her head. “No, we lived in an apartment that wasn’t much bigger than this.” He must have looked confused because she set the tray down and gave him an understanding smile. “I lived in a very large house—you’d call it a mansion—with my ex since I came here almost ten years ago. But before that I grew up in a block apartment building left over from Soviet times. It’s what most people in the cities in Eastern Europe still live in.”
“I’ve seen one or two.” He couldn’t explain those missions, not to anyone. They’d been at the highest level of security clearance with need-to-know limited to him, Claudia and the highest levels of government. Because of his limited Russian skills he’d worked with another agent. An agent who’d been killed as they’d freed an American agent held hostage by the Russian mob in St Petersburg, Russia.
“Have you?” She nodded. “Of course you have. You wouldn’t be working against the ROC in this particular op if you didn’t have that kind of experience with them. So you really understand their global reach.” Kit wasn’t asking a question; she seemed bemused, maybe even impressed.
“I do.”
“Wow. Few Americans do.”
“I’ve found that unless you’re working in the military, law enforcement or cyber intelligence, there’s no reason to know what all the threats are. That’s the burden we accept when we take our oath.”
“I didn’t have the same oath as you.”
“Just because you’re unsworn doesn’t make your role any less important. You know that.”
She nodded. “I do. I just wanted to make sure you did, too.” Her saucy grin made that unfamiliar thing happen in his chest again—the start of a belly laugh. As he let the mirth out, he met her sparkling gaze. A zap of awareness, right to his crotch, reminded him of the potency of their chemistry.
And they’d never so much as kissed.
* * *
Luther’s grin caught her off guard, even though she’d been engaging in banter with him just like she would with fellow
SVPD and TH officers and agents she worked with. Kit’s breath caught, and that warm swirly sensation lined her gut again.
Did Luther know how attractive he was?
“You’re complicated, Kit. I like it. Let me set up your laptop tray and then we’ll figure out what to eat.”
As he snapped the frame together, she decided she liked the femininely styled table. Although it was a bit rickety and rocked when she put the laptop on it.
“This will do, thank you.”
“Why don’t you get everything going, and I’ll heat up our meal?” He fiddled with what looked like a briefcase but was in actuality a propane powered ministove.
“There’s a microwave in the corner over there, under the bedding on the shelves next to the bathroom.” She motioned to the far side of the cabin, past the woodstove. The bathroom was in name only, with a tiny sink and toilet crammed into a closet. The minimal privacy made her grateful for the bathhouse.
“A microwave is a lot easier, and safer.” Relief reflected in his tone and she smiled at this uncharacteristic side of him. Super secret agent, concerned about how to make a camping dinner. “Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”
“I forgot. We were too busy bringing everything in.” As her screen lit up and the comms software launched, she cracked her knuckles. “It doesn’t look like there are a lot of hunters out here yet.” Her screen reflected no more than a dozen blips, indications of cell phone use.
“There won’t be until Saturday, Sunday night. The season officially opens on Monday. Everyone’s with their families for Thanksgiving tonight and tomorrow.”
That’s right. It was only Wednesday night.
“Last year Annie and Josh had me over to make pumpkin pies on Wednesday night. Colt and Claudia had all of SVPD who were alone on Thanksgiving to their place for turkey dinner on Thursday.” She hadn’t told him she’d baked them a pumpkin pie for tomorrow. Thanksgiving was one of the American holidays she’d taken to since moving here. She wished she could be with her family today, but this was more important, to ensure their forever safety. They’d accepted that her work schedule wouldn’t allow her to visit New Jersey this Thanksgiving.
