Mendez’s laugh was rusty. He’d worn himself out physically, though mentally he still burned with rage. “You trying to tell me something?”
“I’m telling you that you aren’t dumping her off on me because you’re pissed at her. She came with you, she goes with you.”
“I think it’s obvious I can’t trust her.”
Yuri’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s not my problem, Viper.”
Mendez sighed. “Don’t worry, I need her for this mission, much as I wish it wasn’t true. She goes with me.”
Someone rapped hard on the door. Kat started awake, instinctively grabbing her weapon. Then she checked the time. One a.m. They were leaving tonight. She scrambled from the bed and went over to unlock the door.
Johnny was on the other side. He hadn’t stopped looking furious since this morning, so it was no surprise he still looked like he could choke her to death given the opportunity. His dark eyes bored into her.
“It’s go-time.”
He’d informed her earlier, with very little ceremony, that the Tiger was getting them out tonight.
“Let me get my bag.”
She was fully dressed, had been lying in bed with her tactical gear and boots on. She had her weapons bag nearby along with the other gear Yuri had provided them. He was a wealthy arms dealer, so the equipment was state of the art. Maybe they stood a chance of getting to Sergei after all.
Not that they’d discussed how they were doing this since Johnny wasn’t talking to her. But she’d studied the layout of Sergei’s house and his alarm system. She had ideas.
She shouldered her gear and followed Johnny down the hall and out into the control room where Yuri the Tiger waited. He hadn’t been the least bit apologetic about what had happened when he’d outed her. She was pissed at him, but she also understood where his paranoia came from. You didn’t live on the fringes of society as long as he had and not gain a healthy sense of paranoia about others and their motives.
“My perimeter remains unbroken,” he said. “But they are on the outside of it, watching for you.”
“So we’ll bust through and drive like hell,” Johnny said. “No other option.”
Yuri’s face split in a grin. “Ah, but there is another option. Come.”
They got into the elevator with him and took the trip topside. They walked back up through the basement of the crappy house filled with hoarder junk and stopped on the porch. It was cold and the moon glistened on the snow. It was getting late for snow in this part of Siberia, but it was still lingering. Kat pulled her parka tighter against the wind and trudged along behind the men as they headed for the giant old warehouse that sat a few yards behind the house.
Yuri took something from his pocket and the doors began to grind open. Kat shook her head. Figured he had a remote. He didn’t turn on the lights inside but instead took a flashlight from his pocket and switched it on. It was military grade because the beam cut through the darkness like it didn’t exist. He shone it toward the center of the warehouse—and that’s when she realized it wasn’t a warehouse but a hangar.
There were planes lined up on either side of the hangar, but it was toward the middle that he walked. A black helicopter sat on the pad. It was a wicked-looking piece of Russian military equipment, similar to an American Black Hawk but not quite as large.
“You still fly?” he asked Johnny.
Kat blinked. Fly? Since when did he fly? He hadn’t flown when they’d been together in Moscow.
Johnny strode toward the craft and put a hand against the metal. “It’s been a while, but yeah, I can fly her.”
“Good.” Yuri came over and pulled a map from his pocket. “You will need to go here.” He stabbed at the map. “It’s three hundred miles. The range on this baby is three hundred and fifty nautical miles, so no side trips. My son is waiting. Deliver the helicopter to him and he will have a van for you. You’ll still have a long way to go to Moscow, but you will have left Turov’s army behind for now.”
Kat looked up at the roof overhead. “How are we getting out of here?”
The helicopter had wheels, but the path to the exit wasn’t clear. It could take hours to jockey the aircraft around.
Yuri pointed his remote at the roof—and two panels began to slide open. “Straight up and out.” He smirked.
Kat walked around the helicopter while Johnny and Yuri discussed the flight path and the details.
“Get strapped in,” Johnny ordered her with a pointed look. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him and clambered into the sleek helicopter, tossing her gear into the back. There was a helmet on the seat. She examined it. There was comm equipment inside, so she put it on and lifted the visor.
Johnny got inside and turned to her as he fitted his helmet and tightened it. “You got any experience with these?”
Her heart skipped. “What? No! Don’t you?”
His mouth twisted. “Relax, I can fly. Just wondered what kind of copilot you’d make.”
“Not a good one, I imagine.”
“No kidding.” He started the rotors and they began to turn. The helicopter vibrated beneath them as the engines spooled up. Yuri had moved out of the path of the rotors. She noticed that the other craft in the hangar were tied down, which was probably a good thing considering how much air this thing was moving.
“You think we’ll make it?” she shouted.
Johnny frowned at her and touched the helmet. His voice came through like a caress to her ears. “Talk into the mic.”
She fumbled around until she thought she had the helmet powered up—or however it worked. “Copy,” she said. “You receiving?”
“Loud and clear.”
He flicked some switches and checked gauges. And then he wrapped his hand around the stick—and the craft lifted off the tarmac. They ascended slowly through the roof. He hovered for a moment. The Siberian landscape was sleek and shiny with snow and ice. In the distance, Novosibirsk blazed with light.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” she answered.
They shot forward, banking to the left before straightening and flying into the darkness with only the moon to guide them. There was a flash of something on the ice far below.
Johnny swore and banked hard enough that she felt the g-forces tugging her toward the door. She couldn’t move as he spun—or it felt like he spun—the helicopter hard, spiraling up and up. Outside her window, something flashed bright.
“RPG,” he said grimly in her ear. “They were waiting for an aircraft.”
She couldn’t speak. He straightened the helicopter and then flew in a swerving motion across the sky. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest and her pulse skipped and flew.
“They tried to shoot us down,” she finally managed.
“Yes. But they missed. We should be out of range now.”
“What if they have a helicopter—or a fighter jet? What if they come after us?”
He glanced at her. His visor was down, so all she could see was the sexy tilt of his lips as one corner curved upward. “Then I guess we’re fucked.”
Chapter 32
They weren’t fucked. Not yet. No craft came after them, but Mendez figured that was only because Turov hadn’t known what to expect. Or even if they really were with Yuri. Probably that missile had been a warning and nothing more. It had certainly been unguided or they wouldn’t be here to talk about it.
By the time they landed in the remote location Yuri had directed them to, Mendez was almost sorry to lose the helicopter. It was a fine piece of machinery. With a few refueling stops, they could be in Moscow much quicker than driving.
But it was Yuri’s equipment, not his, and besides, he had no idea where to refuel. They touched down long after the first light had split the sky. Not because it had taken hours, but because morning came so early this time of year. Yuri’s son waited for them at the edge of the helicopter pad.
He was tall, handsome, and much younger than Mend
ez expected. Mendez cut the engines to the helicopter and took off his helmet. Then he reached for the bags he’d tossed in the back and slipped to the tarmac.
Kat—Valentina?—fuck, he didn’t even know what to call her anymore—did the same. They strode across the pad and met Kazimir Budayev. He shook hands with them and then took them to a black Mercedes van. Inside, there was space for sleeping bags down the center—but the sides were lined with weapons and explosives. Mendez lifted an AK-47 from the rack and examined it.
“It meets with your approval?” Kazimir asked.
“It does. Thank you.”
He shrugged. “My father said you were to be given the best.” He tilted his head to the side. “You saved him in Afghanistan?”
“I took him to a field hospital. They’re the ones who saved him. But he’s too tough to die, so that helped.”
Kazimir grinned. “He will outlive us all.”
“Probably.”
Within minutes, they were in the van and on the road. The landscape was stark and empty. The atmosphere in the van was also stark. Kat—Valentina?—sat with a foot propped on the dash and her head turned, staring out the window at the sun shining off the ice.
He still hadn’t quite processed the anger yet. Every time he thought he could shove it down deep and concentrate on the mission, it reared up like a dragon breathing flame.
Fuck, why did he have to think of dragons?
Maybe because he’d explored the dragon on her thigh with his fingers and tongue only a few hours ago and it was still prominent in his brain. Unfortunately, thinking of the dragon made him think of other things. Her soft skin. Her sighs and moans. The way she tasted when he swirled his tongue into her wet heat. The way she felt wrapped around him, his body pounding into hers until they’d both come apart in a blaze of molten fire.
He slammed his hand against the wheel and she turned her head, blinking. Something in his expression must have told her what he was thinking because her color flared.
“What the fuck do I call you now?” he snarled. He had to get control again. Because being pissed wasn’t doing him any good. Operators needed a clear head and a bottomless well of cool. His cool was contaminated with raw fury.
“What do you want to call me?”
“Don’t fucking ask,” he ground out.
“Then call me Kat. That’s who I think of myself as. Valentina was young and naïve in spite of all her training. She didn’t know how cruel the world could really be. Kat’s a stone-cold bitch who knows down to the depths of her soul that even when you think the worst has happened, it’s only a warm-up for the main event.”
For a split second he was tempted to feel sympathy for her. But then he thought of how they’d stood in front of a grave two days ago and he’d had no idea it was his son lying beneath the earth.
A voice in his head asked him just what the fuck he’d expected her to do—either three years ago when she said she first knew where to find him or a few days ago when she’d walked into the Court of Two Sisters. What would he have done if she’d said she was Valentina? He wouldn’t have listened to a damned thing she’d been there to say, that’s for sure.
And maybe he wouldn’t be here now, because he hadn’t decided on this course of action until Dmitri Leonov arrived so quickly and shot at them. That had been the determining factor for him. Leonov worked for Turov, and Turov was connected to DeWitt. The Russian angle was too important to ignore. And now that they were here?
It was fucking critical to world security.
“What was Roman like?” he found himself saying before he’d realized his mind had circled back to the cemetery.
He could feel her gaze on him. She sighed. “He was funny and sweet. Black hair, like yours. He was going to be tall, I think. He was growing like a weed. He had a heart of gold—”
She stopped speaking and he turned to look at her. Her head was bowed and her fists were white where she’d clenched them in her lap. Then she punched her leg again and again before turning her head away to look out the window.
Her shoulders heaved as she shook with silent tears.
Goddammit.
“Kat,” he choked out, surprised at how tight his own throat had gotten.
She didn’t turn around, but she reached a hand behind her to wave him off. He grasped it without thinking. And then he held on tight while she shook. He kept his other hand on the wheel, his gaze focused and burning as he drove. Eventually her shaking ceased. She eased her hand from his and turned slowly. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks tear-streaked.
She sniffed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
He swallowed against the knot perched in his throat. He was still pissed at her—but he was pretty pissed at himself too. Whatever the reasons, whatever he felt about it, she was a mother who’d lost a child, and she hadn’t gotten over it. He knew what that was like from watching his mother after his sister’s death.
What had he said to Kat on the train? That maybe if she told the father about Roman, he could help her bear it?
Then stop being a prick.
“Don’t apologize,” he said roughly.
“I have pictures. Not with me though. I’ll make sure you get them.”
“That would be great.” He had no one to share them with, but he wanted to see them anyway. His mother didn’t know him anymore and she wouldn’t understand. And, fuck, even if she were competent, would he tell an old lady she had a dead grandson?
No, he definitely wouldn’t. It would be too hard for her to bear.
Guilt pricked him. He’d been pissed that Kat hadn’t told him, but maybe it wasn’t such a clear-cut answer after all.
Kat sniffed again. “Like I said, Roman had a heart of gold. He loved animals. He wanted to be a vet, though he was only twelve so maybe that would have changed. He loved splashing in puddles after a storm, he loved snowboarding, and he had a laugh that made me happy. The best times of my life were when I got to spend them with him.”
Hot emotion threatened to punch through the veneer of his cool. It shocked him how close he hovered to a breakdown of his own. Over a child he’d never known.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what? You have a right to know.”
“For being a dick. You loved him. Whatever else is between us, I don’t doubt that.”
“He was my world. Everything I did was for Roman. For his safety. But I’m not sure I succeeded in the end.”
Her head was bowed again. Alarm prickled along the back of his neck. “It’s not your fault there was an accident.”
“Maybe it is.” She sucked in a breath. “There was no brake fluid in the lines. The police investigator said the loss of fluid was caused by the wreck. But I’ve always wondered if it wasn’t the other way around—someone cut the lines and the accident was deliberate.”
Horror filled him. “Why would it be deliberate? He was the leverage. Without him, you could run.”
Her eyes glittered. “I think Sergei ordered it. Because I refused to kill someone he wanted killed. She was only a girl—not even one of Sergei’s working girls. But her sister was, and she came to beg for him to let her sister go. Sergei said he would think about it—and then he told me to kill her. I refused.”
Mendez’s heart froze solid. “You think Sergei had Roman killed for that?”
“Yes. He wanted to show me that he owned me. He had Roman killed, thinking I would have nothing left. He didn’t expect me to run.” She pulled in a breath. “It’s why Dmitri didn’t kill me in New Orleans. Sergei isn’t finished with me yet. He wants to cause me pain before I die—and he wants me to know he’s the one who caused it.”
Mendez’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. “If he killed Roman, I’ll fucking ruin him.”
“Not if I do it first,” she said softly.
Chapter 33
“You realize if we get caught we’re in some deep shit?” Cade Rodgers said to the men and women standing on the tarmac. Gin
a Domenico’s shiny jet was parked a few steps away on a private runway in Maryland. The engines were spooled up and the jet was taking on fuel.
Another plane nearby seemed to be going through the preflight checklist as well. Probably some billionaire on his way to a golf match. Cade looked around. This was the kind of private airstrip where rich billionaires and corporate lobbyists flew in and out on a regular basis. The names on the planes were totally recognizable in many cases, though not all.
One of the benefits of this airport was the ability to keep the press out. Kinda important when you were planning an unsanctioned mission to an ally nation that was currently pissed at you for murdering their ambassador.
“Your point?” Navy SEAL Cash “Money” McQuaid asked.
Viking grinned. “We’re just a group of private citizens on a tour, my friend. Gina Domenico groupies along for the ride.”
As if the nearly two dozen muscular men dressed in tactical gear were the equivalent of giggly teenagers fangirling over one of their idols while snapchatting their adventures to their jealous friends back home.
Hawk growled. “Don’t remind me that my wife is going on this trip.”
“She kinda provides legitimacy though, don’t you think?” Cade asked. “American pop star performs surprise concert for Russian fans?”
“Yeah, don’t remind me. I didn’t expect to have to oversee a fucking concert’s security along with a rescue mission.”
“Legitimacy, bro. She’s giving it to us.”
Hawk walked away, grumbling. The source of his headache stood with her friends—the women of HOT, literally HOT operators and the ones married or engaged to operators—and seemed to be talking very seriously about something. Gorgeous group of women, but Cade didn’t make the mistake of thinking any of them were soft. It took a special kind of woman to be with men who did what they did for a living.
He hadn’t managed to find one for himself. Not that he was looking. Life was too good the way it was. He could fuck whomever he wanted whenever he wanted. There was no hanging on the moods and whims of one woman. Not that his teammates didn’t look happy.
HOT Valor (Hostile Operations Team - Book 11) Page 19
