“Saint Petersburg. But you know that.”
“In an orphanage.”
“Yes. In an old convent. The walls were spectacular—rich mosaics and frescoes—but we weren’t allowed to touch. I don’t think it occurred to any of us to even attempt it.”
“Valentina hated it.”
“She did. She was an introvert and she wanted to be left alone. There was no such thing as being alone in a dorm room full of children.” She paused for a moment. “I’m not an extrovert by any means, though I’d say the years have taught me to enjoy people. No one wants to truly be alone.”
He didn’t respond to that statement. “So why did you move to Novosibirsk?”
“Because I was ordered to do so. I wasn’t there for very long.” Hot emotion clogged her throat. “About a year after I had Roman, I had to leave him with friends and return to my duties.”
A cloud crossed his face. “They made you leave your child?”
She shrugged, though it hurt deeply to remember. “I saw him as often as I could. He knew I was his mother. We spent holidays together, long weekends. It was much like getting a divorce and sharing custody, I imagine. When he got older and more independent, I had him often, though he still went to stay with Peter and Ludmilla whenever I had to leave the country for work. It was during one of those periods when the accident happened. They were all killed.”
“Jesus.”
Her emotions were too close to the surface right now. Sitting in this cozy booth, talking to the man she’d once loved so much—the man who had never known his own child—and trying to pretend they were strangers after that scorching kiss they’d shared earlier… She wanted to tell him everything, wanted to throw herself into his arms and ask him to hold her, but it wouldn’t turn out the way she wanted it to.
He would despise her for lying to him. He would never understand why she’d had to do it. Johnny was too honorable, and he’d have sacrificed himself for her if she’d let him. Except it wouldn’t have been only them who paid the price. Roman would have too.
They certainly wouldn’t be sitting here now, talking about the past while journeying into the heart of Russia. They would all be in a cold grave somewhere, their bones long since crumbled to dust.
Kat shivered and rubbed her palms along her arms.
Johnny frowned. “Are you cold?”
“It’s nothing. Someone just walked over my grave.”
“That’s an odd thing to say.”
“Is it? It’s a saying I used to hear in the orphanage.”
His expression was serious. “Let’s not discuss graves or anything to do with them. It’s bad luck.”
She set her napkin on the table as a huge yawn cracked her jaw. Finally. “I’m going to head back to the cabin now.”
His eyes glittered hotly for a moment before the fires banked. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, stay. You still have coffee.”
She’d started to turn away when he caught her fingers. Heat flared and rolled just from that simple touch. She brought her gaze to his. He looked solemn and sorrowful.
“I’m sorry you lost people. And I’m sorry I dragged you back here. I would have left you in the States if I’d known.”
The corners of her mouth trembled. “And you would be dead right now. You need me, John Mendez. So here we are. We’ll expose the connection between Sergei and DeWitt, and we’ll clear your name. You can go back to work and forget you ever met me.”
“Impossible.”
“No, we’ll make it happen. You’ll see.”
He shook his head. “That’s not the part I’m talking about. Forgetting you. That’s what’s impossible.”
Mendez watched her go. She was a painful reminder of what he’d lost. Worse, he’d caused her pain by bringing her back to Russia. He’d had no choice though. This was where the plot against him began and where it ended.
Mendez scrubbed his hands through his hair—fuck, it was getting longer than he liked—and stared at the pink horizon as the train clacked along the track.
Maybe this was a fool’s errand. Maybe he should have stayed in the States and tried to coordinate something with his guys. He knew they’d been sent away from HOT HQ. As if that would stop them from operating. Clearly neither General Comstock nor the vice president understood a thing about HOT if they thought sending the operators home would prevent them from accessing information and weapons.
If anything, they were better placed to work a mission than they would have been beneath Comstock’s nose. Mendez no longer had access to his network, but if Yuri was still in Novosibirsk—and still a friend—Mendez could find out what was happening.
He could call Ian, sure. But something held him back. Not that he didn’t trust Ian, but there were forces swirling around Black’s Bandits that Mendez didn’t like. Who the fuck was Phoenix? That would be helpful knowledge to have, but Ian wasn’t telling.
Mendez wouldn’t reveal that information in his position either, so he didn’t blame the man. But he didn’t like it.
He sat in the dining car and contemplated all the angles until the pink was gone from the sky and darkness had set in. He tossed some rubles on the table and stood. Surely Kat was asleep by now. He’d slip into the room and lie down for a while. He’d been torn on whether to take a second-class cabin, which meant four berths, but that would entail watching two more people and having more traffic in and out of the room.
With him and Kat in a first-class cabin, there were two berths and two people with access. Three if you included the attendant. Each car had its own attendant. Theirs was a stout woman who looked like the stereotypical idea of a Russian matron. She didn’t smile, she didn’t respond to polite banter, but she served up hot tea from her samovar with brisk efficiency before moving on to the next cabin.
She wasn’t going to be in the cabin with them, however, and that was part of his reluctance to return. Still, he needed sleep and he couldn’t spend forty-eight hours in the dining car. Not to mention he had to be prepared in case Sergei Turov discovered their whereabouts and sent someone after them.
The attendant looked up as he entered their car. She didn’t give him a friendly nod and he didn’t expect it. Still, for the hell of it, he winked at her. Her face went stony.
“You are lovely and efficient,” he told her in Russian. “And your tea is delicious.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, a blush blossomed on her cheeks before she turned away with a humph.
He let himself into the cabin and locked it. It wasn’t completely dark. A small lamp burned dimly on the wall. Kat lay with her back to the wall and her face resting on her hands.
Mendez took a moment to study her. She could be Valentina lying there. The years faded under the dim light, and he was back in his apartment in Moscow, restless after making love to her. Restless because he couldn’t see a way forward for them.
Valentina had been Russian army—though according to Kat, she’d also been FSB. He hadn’t known that at the time. Yeah, it was a surprise because he’d thought they’d shared everything. And yet it wasn’t a surprise because it was the Russian Federal Security Service—and you didn’t offer up information on that organization no matter how much you might want to.
Even without the complication of her being a spy, the fact she’d been Russian army and he’d been an American intelligence officer had been fairly damning to their future. When he’d first seen her, he’d been struck by her beauty. What man wouldn’t have been? He’d had no thought of the future.
It was his dick that had set that particular ball in motion. He’d wanted to fuck her, plain and simple. So had any number of the guys he’d been serving with. But he’d been the first to approach her.
They’d been naked within hours of their first date. And he’d been hooked. He’d expected to hit it and quit it, but instead he’d been utterly addicted. Valentina was innocent and tough and sexy all at once.
It had started with sex and ended with love. He couldn
’t say at what moment he’d fallen for her, but he remembered when he first knew. She’d been walking toward him in a snowy Red Square, her fur-lined hood pulled up to shelter her face, and she’d smiled. A chill had flooded his senses, stood the hairs on the back of his neck to attention.
He hadn’t been cold, and he hadn’t been scared. He’d been feeling the effects of a transformation in his system. And once he knew what it was, there’d also been a low-level despair that perched in the recesses of his brain, as if to remind him that nothing about the love he felt was going to be easy.
The gargoyle of despair had been right. It certainly hadn’t been easy. Especially when Valentina left his arms one morning and never came back.
Mendez gave himself a mental shake to rid his mind of those thoughts and stretched out on the berth. He had to get to Novosibirsk and find Yuri. And then he had to put a stop to whatever Turov and DeWitt were planning to do.
Even if he had to die to do it.
Chapter 19
Ian sat on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial and waited. It was sunset and the Tidal Basin glowed gold and orange. Behind him, Thomas Jefferson stood inside the round marble building, the words of the Declaration of Independence ringing the walls.
It was Ian’s favorite spot in Washington. A soft breeze blew his hair. Tourists were still walking up the steps to the memorial and would be for hours yet. In the distance a man jogged along the path beneath the trees. He was both preceded and followed by men who jogged with him but were also there to protect him.
Ian sighed. How the hell Mark DeWitt sat a heartbeat away from the presidency was a constant source of amazement. He liked President Campbell, but what the man had been thinking to choose this particular loon as a running mate was completely beyond him. DeWitt had no respect for the office and no respect for government. He was in it to enrich himself.
Ian stood and went over to the edge of the water. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited. DeWitt slowed to a walk as he approached. The Secret Service men fanned out around him, keeping their distance but also remaining close enough to leap into action should it be required.
The tourists had no idea the vice president was in their midst. It was typical of tourists really. Nobody looked the same in person as they did on television. Also, when you were used to seeing a man in a suit and tie, you rarely made the connection with another version of him. This Mark DeWitt was just another sweaty guy out for a jog.
To the untrained eye, the agents accompanying him looked like a random group of men who weren’t even together. The old saw about hiding in plain sight was certainly true in this case.
“Black,” DeWitt said as he walked up and gazed out at the water. He didn’t stand too close to Ian, but they could talk without yelling.
“Sir. You’re looking fit.”
DeWitt put a hand to his belly. “This job will kill you if you don’t make time to exercise.”
“Speaking of jobs… Do you have one for me?”
“I need you to go to Moscow.”
“Why?”
“Do you know John Mendez? HOT?”
“I’ve heard of him.”
“I need you to find him. He’s dangerous. He has to be stopped before he causes more damage to US-Russian relations.”
“Sounds like a mission for SEAL Team Six,” Ian drawled. Because he loved sticking it to this guy. If this were on the up and up, the military would be the ones going in. It wasn’t though, and they both knew it.
DeWitt’s face was already red from jogging, though Ian suspected it was growing a little redder at the moment. He didn’t like being confronted, even if it was subtle.
“We can’t do anything official. It has to be someone like you. Off the books. A mercenary.” DeWitt looked beyond him for a second. Nodded. “I have to get moving. Someone will be in touch with the details.”
“Yes, sir,” Ian said as DeWitt jogged away. Ian watched the slimy bastard go and then took out his phone. He had to get his strike team together—and, once he had more information from DeWitt, he had to tell Phoenix what he was about to do. Well, most of what he was about to do. Some things he kept to himself. Safer that way.
They made the entirety of the journey without incident and disembarked in Novosibirsk two days later. It was early May, but it was still cold enough for coats. Eventually the temperature would climb into the sixties—but not yet. Today wasn’t quite forty. Practically a heat wave for Siberia. The streets were dirty from snow that had melted and frozen a few times, picking up soot and dirt along the way. In summer, everything would be green and pretty, but right now the city was like a baby swan trying to find its way. The ugly duckling would be beautiful in a few weeks, but not just yet.
Kat’s heart thumped as they strode from the train station. She told herself to stop being so damned emotional. To get over it and keep on moving because there was nothing to be done for it now.
She was tough. She’d been trained to be a warrior. She did not lose control of her emotions. And yet she couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down her cheeks or the sob threatening to burst free as she followed Johnny through the station. It was not like her, and yet she had no control of it.
He stopped to say something to her. His eyes widened as he took in her tear-streaked cheeks.
“Jesus—what’s wrong, solnishko?”
She liked that he called her Sunshine. Much better than baby or honey or doll.
She swiped at her tears angrily. “Nothing. I am being sentimental.”
He surprised her by grasping her shoulders and pulling her to him. His body was warm and hard and she turned her cheek to lie against his chest and breathed deeply. He threaded a hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head, and rubbed softly.
“It’s ridiculous,” she said. “It was a long time ago.”
“How could it be ridiculous? You’re talking about losing a child. I don’t think you ever get over that.”
No, she didn’t either. She was beginning to realize that. She’d pushed the pain so deep that she’d been able to pretend she’d made her peace with it. But she hadn’t.
“Maybe not, but you shouldn’t randomly cry about it years later,” she said.
He held her lightly but firmly. She wanted to burrow in and never leave the circle of his arms.
“Apparently you do.” He skimmed his fingers up and down the back of her coat. She wished like hell the barrier between them wasn’t so thick. “My mother did too, by the way. My sister drowned when she was three. You don’t get over that.”
Kat pushed back so she could see his face. “I didn’t know that.” It occurred to her after she said it that it was an odd statement coming from her. From Valentina, not so much. But Kat wasn’t supposed to know this man as well as her “sister” had. What she’d said had sounded like I know so much about you but didn’t know that.
Was that suspicion in his gaze? It disappeared so fast she wasn’t certain. She was going to have to be more careful.
“My mother had random crying jags for the rest of her life. Still does, though I’m not sure she knows why anymore. She has Alzheimer’s and lives in a home.”
Kat squeezed him. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “Not trying to make this about me. Just wanted you to know you aren’t abnormal. Grief isn’t static, and it doesn’t follow a timetable.”
So many things she wanted to say to him. So many reasons why she couldn’t. “Thank you.”
He let her go, and she stepped away even though what she really wanted was to press herself to him and stay safe and warm. They stared at each other without moving until her skin began to itch with the urge to touch him.
“Where’s he buried?” he asked.
“Not too far from here.”
“Do you want to go?”
Did she? A bubble of panic welled up in her throat. She swallowed it down. “I don’t think I can—but maybe I need to.”
He took her hand and led her toward the
exit. They found a taxi and got inside. She told the driver where to go. The ride didn’t take long, and they soon found themselves at the entrance to a cemetery. It was older, more run-down than some of the others. The gravestones were chipped, some covered in moss and lichen. There was a newer section where Roman, Peter, and Ludmilla were buried.
Kat stood inside the gates and dragged in a breath. It frosted when she let it out again, curling around her. Snow still covered the ground, but it wasn’t deep and the walkway was clear. Johnny was speaking with the taxi driver, presumably to ask him to wait. He appeared at her side suddenly, his presence oddly shocking in a way. How had she agreed to this?
For a moment, she didn’t think she could go through with it. She spun to him, panic bubbling upward, threatening to blow like a volcano at any moment. “You don’t have to go. I’ll be back in a few moments.”
His expression was so very serious. His dark eyes regarded her evenly, but a fire burned behind them. He had a beard now—silver and black, so freaking sexy. She wanted to feel it against her body.
“I’m going with you.” His gaze lifted as he studied the walls of the cemetery, the gray sky with its heavy clouds.
A cold wind surged just then, whipping her hair into her face. She dragged the strands back and shoved them behind her ears.
“We need to stick together,” he told her. “It’s more dangerous now.”
She nodded and walked through the gates. She didn’t waste time. No strolling along, contemplating the mysteries of the universe. A brisk walk brought her to the gravesite. There was only one stone, a big one with three names. Johnny stopped beside her.
“He was not their son,” she said softly. “But that’s the way it had to be. I understood. And I like that he is not alone.”
Johnny didn’t answer her. She didn’t expect him to. But she glanced up at him and her heart squeezed tight. He stared at the stone, his jaw working as if he were holding something back. That’s when it hit her. Roman’s date of birth. Nine months to the day after she’d disappeared from Johnny’s life. She’d always thought she must have gotten pregnant their last night together. He wasn’t a stupid man. He could do math.
HOT Valor (Hostile Operations Team - Book 11) Page 12
