Arrogant asshole. “How do you expect me to help if you won’t tell me where we’re going?”
“Honestly, sweetheart, I’m not sure you can help me. But the jury’s out on that point. For now.”
She cocked a hip and popped a fist on it. “So I should be grateful you’re keeping me around? Is that it? Well, thanks a fucking million, asshole. I’ll just sit down and be silent and wait for you to tell me what to do. Does that work for your caveman brain?”
She didn’t expect him to grin. The sight of his lips curving up in that handsome face sent a thrill straight down to her toes.
“Works perfectly. I love a woman who does what she’s told.”
Honestly, she saw red. RED. And then she told herself to calm down because he was doing it on purpose. Trying to get a rise out of her. “Then you’ll be waiting a long time,” she muttered. “I gave up silence years ago.”
“Figured you didn’t mean it.”
“No, I definitely didn’t.” She tossed her hair. “Now, how about you tell me where we’re going when we leave here?”
His hard gaze didn’t waver. And then he shrugged. “Atlanta.”
She had no idea what was in Atlanta, but at least he’d shared that much with her. “Was that so difficult?”
“Nope.” He started for the door. When he put his hand on the knob, she took a step toward him. As if she could possibly stop him.
Her heart hammered in her throat. What the fuck was he up to?
“Where are you going? You’re crazy to head back out there so soon.”
He tugged the ball cap lower. As if that could possibly hide who he was. Or what he was—all lethal strength and razor-sharp badassery rolled up in a delicious package. He couldn’t walk down the street without turning female heads. And probably a few male ones too.
“I’ll be back in half an hour. If I’m not, stay here until morning. Then call Black and get him to extract you.”
Her jaw clenched tight. “If you aren’t here, I won’t need an extraction. It’s you they want, John—”
She swallowed. She’d almost said Johnny. But he reacted strongly to that name on her lips, and she didn’t need to make that happen. Each time she screwed up, he was that much closer to realizing the truth about her.
Dealing with the fallout of that revelation was not high on her list of desires.
His gaze sharpened. Hot eyes bored into hers and her belly roiled with regret and need—and a sharp sadness that had never gone away in all these years. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull his head down for a kiss. She no longer had that right, so she stood immobile and waited for him to make the next move.
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he said softly.
“This is a bad idea,” she grated.
“Only if I fail.”
“I’m coming with you.” She hadn’t come out of hiding in order to sit back and let him get killed. No, she was here because she couldn’t let Sergei and Dmitri take him too. He might not be hers anymore, but he was alive and free and she would not allow them to change that.
“No.” His voice snapped into the air between them. “If we’re going to work together, I need you to stay here.”
“You need backup,” she insisted. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Kat,” he said, his voice growling over her name. Making her shiver. “I need to do this alone. Trust me.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Why should I?”
“Because Valentina did.”
Oh, that wasn’t fair. “She wouldn’t want you to risk your life. She wouldn’t want me to let you do it.”
“I’m not risking my life. I’m doing recon. That takes one person, not two. Stop fucking arguing with me and let me get on with it.”
“Fine,” she spat out, though she still didn’t like it. “But you’d better be back here in half an hour.”
The door closed with a soft click. Kat growled her frustration to the four walls. But the hollow pit in her belly didn’t go away.
Mendez moved swiftly. He took the steps down two at a time and then chose the path onto Bourbon Street. He emerged into a knot of drunken tourists who laughed and swigged alcohol from fishbowls or sipped frozen daiquiris they’d acquired at one of the many daiquiri houses.
He headed toward Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop. It was an old bar, very dark inside because they had no electric lights, and it would be busy by now. It was a popular stop on the ghost tours that roamed the city after dark.
He went in through the courtyard rather than the front door and immediately found what he was looking for at a dark table near the fireplace—the haunted fireplace, according to the stories. He drew his weapon as he sat. The man looked up from his beer, his eyes widening.
“Hello, Dmitri,” Mendez said, both angry and pleased his guess had been right. He didn’t know how the man had found them—and he wouldn’t know because Dmitri wouldn’t tell him. But he could send a message.
“Viper.” Leonov leaned back in his seat. He stank of beer and cigarettes—and maybe even a little bit of fear. “You are foolish to come.”
“And you’re foolish to get drunk after coming for me.”
“I never had you in my sights. And I missed your companion. You should be grateful.”
“Why? You could have taken her out. You should have taken her out. You had the shot.”
“Yes, I had the shot.”
“So why did you miss?”
Leonov didn’t say anything. Then he picked up his beer and took a healthy swig. “Because it’s you I was hired to kill. She has nothing to do with it.”
Mendez’s gut twisted. What if she did? What if Kat had been the one to compromise the safe house? “It’s not like you to show mercy.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I am turning over a new leaf.”
“Or maybe you’re working with her.”
Leonov snorted. “If I were, you would be dead by now. No, she is not working with me. Not for many years.” His eyes narrowed. “Tell me, what was it like to see her face? Were you shocked?”
Shocked? More like ripped in two. Mendez lost what little patience he had left. He wasn’t here to discuss his personal life with this man, or to drag out his private pain for Dmitri’s pleasure. Because Dmitri would derive pleasure from it. He was just that kind of sick fuck.
Mendez shoved his nine mil between Leonov’s legs, hard against his balls. The man flinched as color drained from his face.
“You give Sergei a message for me.”
“I do not know what—”
Mendez pushed harder and Leonov yelped. “Give him a message.” He waited for Leonov to protest again, but the man didn’t say a word. Good. “Tell him he won’t get away with it. I’m coming for him—and this time I won’t let him go.”
Leonov nodded. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Hands on the table.”
Leonov obeyed.
“Head down, hands behind your head. Don’t move for a count of ten. If you do, I’ll blow your balls off and worry about the consequences later. Understand?”
“Da. You always were a prick, Viper.”
“No talking. Head. Hands. Now.”
Leonov did what he’d been told.
“Ten count, Dmitri. I can still hit your balls from across the room—and I will if you get up before ten.”
Mendez went out the way he’d come. He got a few looks, but he didn’t care. Eight seconds after he exited, he heard Leonov bellow into the night.
“I’m coming for you, Viper! Motherfucker!”
Mendez snorted a laugh as he slipped into the night. It took longer than he expected to make it back to the apartment. He went a circuitous route just in case. He knew Dmitri wasn’t following him, but that didn’t mean someone else wasn’t. When he was positive he didn’t have a tail, he ducked through the alley and up the stairs.
The door jerked open and Kat leveled a pistol at his heart. He put his hands up. Her eyes flashed w
ith anger. If she was working with Leonov, she could certainly put an end to him right now.
But she lowered the pistol and backed away. “It’s been forty-five minutes, asshole! You said thirty.”
He walked into the room and shut the door behind him. “Took longer than I expected. But here I am.”
She bristled with energy. “Where did you go?”
He thought about keeping it to himself and then decided what the fuck. Her reaction would tell him a lot.
“I went to see Dmitri.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean you went to see Dmitri? Dmitri who?”
“I think you know.”
She blinked rapidly. Either she couldn’t quite believe it or she was worried about something. She put her hands on either side of her head and shook it. “Where the hell do I start? First of all, he’s here? How did you know? And how did you know where to find him? And not only that, but are you insane?”
Her voice had risen with each question. Mendez went over and put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. The shock rolling through him was instant. It went through her too if the way her breathing shortened was any indication.
His gaze dropped to her lips. He couldn’t stop himself from doing it. From thinking about what it would feel like to capture that mouth in a hard kiss.
He dropped his hands from her shoulders like she was made of fire and took a step back. “Who do you think shot at us?” he asked.
“You have a lot of enemies. It could be anyone.”
“Yeah, well, it was Leonov. And I knew where to find him because I’ve found him there before. In the old days.”
“I can’t believe you would risk it.”
“He shouldn’t have missed you, Kat. He had you in his sights.”
She paled. “Why did he?”
“I thought you might know.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he wasn’t hired to kill you.”
She pushed her hair back with shaking fingers. “That’s all he said?”
“Is there something else?”
Her gaze dropped. “No.”
Iron formed in his veins. “Are you working with him? Should I expect a knife in my back at some point?”
“What? No! I’ve told you before that I hate Dmitri. I wouldn’t spit on him to put out a fire.”
“But you’re hiding something from me.”
Her eyes flashed as she met him glare for glare. “I don’t owe you an explanation, John Mendez. I am here for my own reasons, risking my life to save yours.”
Didn’t change the fact she wasn’t telling him the whole truth. But she clearly wasn’t going to talk just yet. “I didn’t ask for your help. Maybe I don’t need it.”
She popped her hands onto her hips and thrust her chin out. “You need it more than you think. Stop being a cowboy and start playing for the team. I’m not the only one risking my life—Ian is in danger too. And what about your HOT group? What would you tell one of your operators who insisted on going it alone? Would you allow it, or would you lecture him about being part of a team?”
As annoyed as he was, he couldn’t argue that last point. It didn’t surprise him that she knew about HOT. Ian knew, and unfortunately so did the Russians. That was on DeWitt—it was also treason. Not that Mendez could prove it. Yet.
He would though. Provided he lived long enough.
He went over to the sleeping bag lying against the wall and unrolled it. Kat watched him, her foot snapping out a rhythm on the floor.
“You aren’t going to say anything?”
He unholstered his weapons and laid them on the floor by the head of the sleeping bag. “What do you want me to say?”
“That I am right. That you are going to stop trying to push me away and start working with me on this op—and that means telling me what your plans are before you execute them.”
He lifted an eyebrow in her direction. He’d already decided to work with her, but it was kind of fun to see her riled up.
“I’ll do my best,” he said. Partly to keep her riled and partly because it was true. He wasn’t accustomed to working with anyone. Hell, he wasn’t accustomed to going on missions anymore either.
God, he’d missed it.
Yeah, that was a little thrill of adrenaline shooting into his veins. Churning his gut. Making him feel more alive than he’d felt in years now. He’d consider what the fuck was wrong with him but he already knew. He’d been feeling strangled in his pristine office. Strangled sitting in the backs of staff cars as he was chauffeured to meetings in the White House and on the Hill. He’d missed living life on the edge more than he’d realized.
He stretched out on top of the sleeping bag and put his hand behind his head. “One more thing though,” he said mildly.
“Yes?” She tapped a foot expectantly.
“If you turn on me, I’ll kill you without a second thought.”
She rolled her eyes. “I believe you have already made that clear.”
He had to admit that he enjoyed her reaction. Anyone else would have gotten angry or defensive—or issued their own ultimatum. Not Kat.
“Good. Now get some rest while you can. We’ve got work to do.”
Chapter 12
Someone shook her awake. Kat reacted instantly, shoving the heel of her hand upward, aiming for her assailant’s nose. She missed and punched air. Someone laughed. It took her a moment to remember where she was.
And who she was with.
Johnny hovered over her, his teeth white in the darkness of the room and the neon glow coming in the windows from Bourbon Street. The bass thumped in the bar beneath them. She wondered how she’d managed to sleep at all as she pushed herself to a sitting position.
“Time to go, sleeping beauty,” he said.
She reached for her phone and powered it up. The time flashed on the screen. Two a.m.
She hadn’t slept for long. It had been hours ago when he’d lain down on the sleeping bag and told her to rest, but she hadn’t been able to fall asleep no matter how hard she tried.
She’d been unable to take her eyes from his shadowy form across the room. She knew he slept lightly, knew that he would snap her neck in a heartbeat if she tried to touch him while he dozed. She’d considered the past twenty-one years and everything that had happened during them.
The lonely nights. The lonely years. If she’d been able to go to him and tell him the truth, she would have.
But she would have ruined his career if she’d gotten involved in his life again. She was Russian. A spy. And then there was the Russian mafia. She would never be free of them no matter how she tried.
Dmitri’d had her in his sights today but hadn’t killed her—she was pretty sure she knew why, though she couldn’t tell Johnny. God no. He’d go ballistic.
She could never go back to Russia. And she couldn’t stay in the United States as anything other than a shadow agent.
She was exactly the wrong kind of woman for a man with Johnny’s ambitions.
He wanted his life back. His command. He couldn’t have that if she was part of his life. Not that she would be after this was over. She’d known when she’d taken this assignment that it was temporary. She’d also known it would break her heart if she let it.
She was determined not to let it.
Kat got to her feet and shouldered her pack. Then she scrubbed her fingers through her hair and smoothed it behind her ears.
He didn’t speak again. He went over to the door and opened it, checking the landing before motioning her through. Then he locked up and went down the stairs in front of her. They emerged in the alley and then out onto Bourbon Street. They were in the heart of the action here. That’s why he did it. They were simply two more tourists in a crowd of tourists.
They passed down Bourbon and then hit one of the cross streets, moving toward the Mississippi River and the parking lots there. Within fifteen minutes, he located a Jeep with a canvas top. He popped the canvas and had the J
eep started before she could count to five.
She jumped inside and belted herself in. He squeezed the gas and the Jeep rolled toward the exit. He got out and paid the parking fee at one of the machines—whoever had driven the Jeep prior had conveniently left the ticket on the dash. She found it funny that he paid instead of ramming his way through the mechanical arm, which he could have done since there was no one monitoring the lot at the moment.
He climbed back inside and then made a left in front of the Westin. They went around the building, exiting right onto Canal Street, and headed toward the interstate.
They still hadn’t spoken. The canvas rattled and the tires whined on the pavement. It was loud inside the Jeep. She wished he’d stolen something else. Or let Ian get a car for them.
She propped a foot on the dash and draped an arm over her knee before turning to him. “So why Atlanta, cowboy?”
He shot her a glance, one sexy eyebrow arched. “Cowboy?”
She shrugged. “Cowboys are rash, yes? Loners. Gunslingers. You’ve been behaving like one, have you not?”
He laughed. “If you say so.”
“And you still have not said why Atlanta.”
“Because it has a major airport with direct flights to most destinations in the world.”
Of course. “Where are we flying to then?”
“I’ll tell you when we get to Atlanta. Do you have a passport with you?”
“I have a few. Which nationality should I be?”
“We’ll figure it out later.”
She frowned. “You lie, John Mendez. You already know where you intend to go.”
“Mostly, yes. I might change my mind though.”
She doubted that. “Please tell me we are not riding the whole way in this piece of junk.”
“We’ll find something else soon.”
“Ian can get us a car.”
“No. Ian’s cars can be traced.”
“Do you trust anyone?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
His hands flexed on the wheel. “You know we can make this trip in silence, right? It’s not necessary to talk to me.”
She huffed. “Maybe I want to know more about you.”
HOT Valor (Hostile Operations Team - Book 11) Page 7
