Codename: Nightshade (Deadly Seven Strike Force)

by Anderson, S

  It’s amazing. I fought him. I kissed him. I commanded him. But this the first time he’s really let all the guards down and just become Nikolai. He’s not worried about returning to his handler, or that he has to kill someone. We’re talking about movies—it’s so trivial in the grand scheme of things. It’s Nick like I remember him.

  “Well, I bet they stink, too,” I say.

  There’s that smile I haven’t seen since the night he said goodbye.

  My smile. The smile he reserves for the moments like this, with just the two of us.

  I don’t care what it takes or how many trials are ahead of us.

  I make it my mission to keep that smile on his face.

  10

  Two days.

  We’ve been on our own for a little over forty-eight hours. I’m itching to contact Claymore, hit up an internet search for something about Marko’s father, or see if there are any new developments in Countess’ case. I’ve never had to deal with this part of the job, not in total radio silence. I’ve gone underground, sure, but I always knew I could turn to my teammates to keep me informed.

  Claymore is the only one I trust right now.

  Claymore is the only one I’m willing to put in danger right now.

  A big part of me hopes someone finds us soon. I’m so bored I’m looking forward to a fight.

  We settle into a motel just outside of Springfield, Missouri. I know protocol is to keep moving, but something tells me to stay put.

  Nikolai bounces between his various mental states with just as much unpredictability as he has since we caught him. As long as the television is on and he’s watching a movie, he seems to relax. It’s probably the most normal activity he’s encountered since he was tortured.

  Was he tortured? I don’t know. I assume so. He says stuff, passing comments and pleas, that make me think he’s highly aware that someone is fucking with his mind. But then there are moments when I ask him to tell me what he knows and he has nothing but a blank stare.

  That has to be so terrifying. To know your mind isn’t yours anymore.

  We’ve crossed into November, but the cable companies still think it’s Halloween. Nikolai sits on the bed, eating a bowl of cereal and watching Nightmare on Elm Street. This one I know. I’ve watched it quite a few times. It still scares the shit out of me.

  “I fought a guy in Romania who had gloves like that,” I say. “Bastard stabbed me in the kidney.” Nikolai tilts his head as he looks to me. “Thank God we come with two, right?”

  I say it with a smile, even though it’s not technically a joke. I did lose a kidney from that one.

  His lips open and close, his brows knitting together, as he tries to come up with the right words to say. “What?”

  I shouldn’t find that as funny as I do. I fight a smile and explain. “Diamond thief, Vladimir Dalca. Is it just me or are all dudes from Romania named Vladimir?” He’s still looking at me like I’m bat-shit insane, so I add more exposition. “He was stealing diamonds to fund terrorist bombings of government buildings in Bucharest.”

  That’s all I’m going to give him. I don’t discuss missions with anyone except the council. I’ve said more than I should already.

  He stirs the contents of his bowl, shaking his head like he wishes that would rattle some sense into what I’ve just said. “She would’ve been the one I sent on that mission, too.”

  He says shit like that a lot. I’m still working on letting it roll off my back. It’s only been two days, but when everything I say, do, think, don’t say, don’t do, is judged and weighed against the me in his head, it’s hard to not let it get to me. I get that he doesn’t believe I can be me. In so many ways, he really did die ten years ago. But he’s giving me a complex.

  I want to beat myself—prove to him that I’m the best and the Penelope in his head was a kid who still had a lot of growing up to do. I’m not her anymore. I’m better. It’s ridiculous. A decade later, I’m still trying to prove myself to this man, and the only way I can is to convince him that I’m better than myself.

  I glance at the door. Boy, it’d be nice if some ninjas just descended on us already.

  “Yeah, well, she wasn’t available,” I say, pretty damn snippy even to my own ears. “So I had to take that one.”

  He’s done eating, done talking. His knees bend in front of him, and he hides behind his leg cage.

  Two giant steps back, Penelope.

  “What do you want from me?” he asks. His eyes are on the TV, but I know he’s talking to me.

  “Nothing. You’re free. Figure out what you want to do and be. I’m just keeping you safe until the guys who had you are exposed.”

  “This is an all-time low, even for Heinrich.”

  Heinrich. “Who?”

  His cheek twitches. “I know you’re not her.”

  Great. This bullshit again. “My mother would disagree with you.”

  “I’ve never heard of that man. I never sent her on that mission.”

  Sent her on that mission. I forget that Nikolai used to be more than just a team member. He was team leader. The council gave him the authority to assign our missions. He knew all the details of everything each of us did. After his death, the council deemed that too dangerous. They speculated part of the reason Nikolai had been targeted was his intel. We gained a new Russian operative after that, but we never regained a team leader.

  “You’re right,” I say. “You didn’t.”

  We shut up and watch the movie. For the first time, I’m not scared watching it.

  He falls asleep a few hours later. The TV and the lights are off. I sit back at the window with my gun on my lap and my feet propped up on the AC/heater unit. I’m facing the glass, but my mind keeps floating behind me to the man on the bed.

  Heinrich.

  The name rolls around in my mind. I’ve never heard it before. I can’t place him in the military or with any of the missions I’ve been on. I can’t even place him as some bad guy out in the world. He used it so flippantly, like I should automatically know who he was talking about because that’s the dude pulling my strings.

  I need to know more.

  Research will require tech of some sort. That’s not advisable at this juncture. Even a TracFone can be hacked and traced. I’m ready for a fight, but I’m not stupid. I don’t need to go borrowing trouble when I have plenty sleeping on my bed right now.

  I think of Claymore, wonder what he’s found out. I wonder where he is.

  I know these things take time, but day three is dawning, and I have a bad feeling in my gut.

  This is low, even for Heinrich.

  “No,” Nikolai says in his sleep. It’s not the first nightmare he’s had. Usually he works the terror out on his own if I just leave him alone long enough. “No… not her. Please, anything, but don’t hurt her!”

  Another complex he’s giving me. I know I love him. I know he was… is everything to me. But I feel like my commitment to him is inferior to his for me. I would have gladly taken any punishment to keep him safe. I would have jumped in front of a bullet for him. I still would. I mourned him, am still mourning him. But at some point in the past ten years, I had to make myself move on, keep living. Every time he says it, it cuts me. He’s hasn’t moved on. He put me up on this pedestal, this perfect angel he doesn’t want the demons to touch.

  I let the demons take him and didn’t doubt when someone told me he was dead.

  I’m no angel.

  He starts thrashing around. “No… stop…”

  That’s my cue.

  I lay the gun in the chair and walk to the bed. He kicks his legs, swinging his fists as he fights something I hope I never understand.

  “Nick?” I don’t touch him. It’s a rule that can keep you alive around people who like to snap necks and ask questions later. When we’re freaking out in an unconscious state, we’re going to wake up and react violently. Keep your distance. “Nick, wake up. It’s a nightmare.”

  “No.” He mo
ans as I turn on the lamp next to the bed. His bangs cling to his forehead, and his cheeks are shiny with sweat. “No… Poppy, get out of here!”

  He would never have a damn dream where he’s only concerned with getting himself out.

  I’m about to break my rule. My hand’s halfway to his shoulder when he says, “If you hurt her, Heinrich, I’ll tear your head off.”

  Heinrich.

  That solidifies my theory. He’s involved with Nikolai’s torture. I gently rest my hands on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him, and lean in close to his ear. “Who’s Heinrich?”

  His body tenses as he bares his teeth with a hiss. “You promised,” he says to the ghosts in his head. “My life for hers. My freedom for hers.”

  The words are sharp daggers driving through my heart. “Who is Heinrich?”

  He’s breathing hard, ready to fight, as he shouts, “Go to Hell!”

  “Who is Heinrich,” I shout in my commanding voice. “Tell me, soldier.”

  “No,” he screams, awakening and grabbing my shoulders. He throws me on the bed in a flash, pinning me under him. His eyes are wide, his nostrils flaring as he stares down at me.

  I can tell sleep still has him in its clutches. He doesn’t really see me.

  I lie there without fighting, or even talking. I just watch him.

  Slowly, the tension eases from his body. His breathing becomes more even.

  I worm my hand under his shirt, pressing it to his chest where I feel his heart hammering hard and fast against his ribs. “Get this under control, Nick.”

  The words, the situation, everything kindles a memory in me. I see the exact moment it triggers in him, too. He lowers his lips toward mine, swaying at the last second. He’s a millimeter from my mouth, his breath hitching as he whispers, “Poppy.”

  “It’s me,” I say, grabbing the sides of his face to guide him back.

  I don’t get a chance to initiate the kiss.

  He does it for me.

  This isn’t that dead fish kiss I got in the bathroom the other day. This is what I remember. This is Nick and me as we always were. His tongue slides into my mouth, and I moan. His knee presses between my legs, and I rock against him. I haven’t been shy about my body since I lost my virginity to this man a decade ago. It took a few years after he died before I wanted to do it again, and once I did, I embraced it. I needed it. Sex with Nick helped me balance this darker part of me that the job required. Without the outlet, I became too withdrawn, too violent, and even unstable. I drank. I started fights. I planned out assassinations for fun. It feels ridiculous to admit that until I got good and laid again, I was a live wire ready to burn the world down. I found some good partners over the years, Marko being one of my favorites.

  But nothing compares to this.

  He bites my bottom lip, and I squeal. I’m giving it up like I’m an inexperienced, eager Girl Scout again. So much for convincing him a mature woman is what he really wants now.

  “I’ve missed you,” I say when he breaks away to catch his breath.

  “Where have I been?” he asks. His finger traces my lips, and I’m captivated by the easy smile on his. His fingernail scrapes the middle of my bottom lip—along a scar I often forget I have. Marko gave it to me during a rough night of play. He bit me so hard I needed a few stitches. I realize now that’s probably what keeps reminding Nikolai that I’m not his Penelope. I didn’t have that scar before.

  As if on cue, the sight registers with him, and the last bit of sleep clears from his eyes. He blinks a few times, licking his lips slowly.

  God help me, but that only turns me on more.

  He doesn’t say a word. He pulls away, taking all the warmth in the room with him. I hear the bathroom door slam, and I roll on to my side.

  It started out promising, but this was nothing like that night we both remembered.

  I tap on his window, watching the grounds in the dark. It’s after midnight. Curfew was four hours ago. The only people walking around are the nightshift, and they rarely make it all the way to the old barracks.

  Nikolai is the only one crazy enough to sleep in them. They say they’re haunted. Nikolai says he doesn’t mind sleeping among ghosts.

  I raise my hand to knock again and hit something softer than the glass.

  “Come on in,” Nikolai says with a laugh.

  He offers me his hand, but I tell him I’ve got it and grab on to the windowsill to pull myself in. He stands back and lets my ass topple over with an ungraceful thud.

  “Thanks,” I say, rubbing my shoulder.

  He shrugs, damn cocky smirk on his lips. “You said you had it.”

  I bounce up, hopping from one foot to the other with excitement. “Well? Well?”

  He leans his ass against the windowsill, arms crossed in front of him. “Well what?”

  The bastard is playing dumb, and I find nothing attractive about it.

  Although, his fitted black tank and black boxer shorts almost make up for it.

  “You know what,” I say, smacking my right fist into the palm of my left hand. “Did you hand in the rankings?”

  He holds that confident smile in place, but I can tell he’s trying hard to not laugh out loud at me. “Maybe.”

  Maybe. Damn him. He knows I’m too wound up about this to be patient. “And?” I prompt more of a response with a wave of my hand.

  “And… they will post the results in the morning, at breakfast.”

  I bat my lashes. “But you can tell me now.”

  “Cannot.”

  “Can,” I insist.

  I walk to him, swaying my hips with each step. “Come on, Nick, I know you want to tell me.”

  “Doesn’t matter if I do,” he says, his face dead serious now. “I can’t tell you, Penelope. Rules are rules.”

  Rules are rules. Unless the rules are about fraternizing with your colleagues, sleeping with your insubordinates, or just about a billion other things that he and I have done together over the past year. I’m pretty sure what I let him do to me in the custodial storage bunk last week is illegal in more than one state.

  But this rule he abides by.

  I frown. “Really?”

  “Really, Poppy. This rule is the only thing that keeps this,” he says with a wave between us, “from being an incident. If you knew information early, they would ask how and why and investigate. And if this is ever exposed—”

  “I know.”

  It would be a scandal and a black mark on both our records, but he would bear the brunt of the punishment as the older party, the officer, and the one who had a responsibility to follow the rules. They’d call him things that could never be erased all because of my age and rank.

  No one would understand this the way we do.

  “So it’s best that we not lead anyone to speculate that I’m sleeping with you.”

  I roll my eyes. “But you are sleeping with me. And a lot of help it’s doing me.”

  He takes a step away from the window, clucking his tongue. He knows I’m teasing him, and he’s taking up the challenge of teasing me back. “Are you saying you’re only sleeping with me for intel, Recruit Vincent?”

  “No,” I say with a pout.

  He taps his finger against my bottom lip, mirroring my pout. “But you figure because you are, you deserve to know before your team?”

  Truth is, I don’t think I deserve anything more than Nikolai. Sleeping with him is already a bonus. Just having him as a friend is more than I could ever expect in this world. On a very serious level, I would never ask for anything extra than just these moments with him. I’m not greedy.

  I’m acting like a child. He’s right. It’s too risky and not worth it. I’ll know in a few hours what the results are. “No.”

  “So you can wait?” he asks, resting his hands on my hips.

  I nod, pressing my hands to his chest. “Yeah.”

  “Think of it like Christmas morning.”

  Christmas morning. The one time of y
ear when my mother and I were most aware of how little we could afford in our lives.

  I know he’s thinking of a nicer version of that holiday than what I grew up with, so I just shine him on. “Sure.”

  “So,” he says.

  “So.”

  His arms wind around me, hands brushing over the curve of my ass. “Is that the only reason you came here tonight?”

  His lips touch my throat, and I hook my arms over his shoulders.

  “Yeah, pretty much,” I say. I’m distracted by the idea of what the results will be, mentally calculating how many minutes until breakfast is served. I worked my ass off for this team. If I don’t score high enough, I won’t be able to serve as the American operative. I want to know now if my best is good enough.

  He pulls back. “Really?”

  I’m confused by the look on his face, so I run his words back through my mind.

  “Oh.” I blush, “No, I wanted to see you, too.”

  His smile melts the awkwardness away. “This really is bugging you, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  He pulls me back into his arms, nuzzling my neck. “And how can I help take your mind off it?”

  I rest my head on his shoulder. “Dunno. I tend to get tunnel vision when I’m focused on a goal.”

  “Hmm.” He works his hands under the waistband of my pants, squeezing my ass. “I think that was a challenge.”

  I try to remain composed. We’re having one of those banter-leading-to-hot-sex moments, and I want to be cool like the chicks in the movies who pull off being all sarcastic and snippy before the dude fucks her senseless. It’s not working, though. We’ve done this a lot over the past few months. So much so that some days I’m surprised people haven’t caught on that we’re an item. I can’t look at him and not picture him naked. I can’t be in the same room with him and not fantasize about what we would do together if no one else were around. I never knew how horny I could be until Nikolai kicked down the door and let this part of me out.

  I want to play the part of the calm, collected badass who can hold her own against this man in the bedroom as well as she does in a fight.