Wiser Than Serpents

by Susan May Warren

  F inally, finally, Vicktor had made it out of American customs and passport control, and thankfully they only asked him three times what medical conference he was attending. And his specialty as a physician. Vicktor knew this from before, when he’d been Vladimir Zaitsev on previous trips around the world. Thankfully, Yanna had done her homework. Despite her worry over her sister, she was a professional and, yes, there was a medical conference in Seattle. This weekend. Forty-eight hours—they stamped it loud and ominous on his visa.

  He went out into the sunshine, or relative sunshine, because the afternoon shadows hung over the terminal. A taxi rolled by, but he ignored it, pulling out his cell phone and looking at the number of missed calls. Four. And one voice mail.

  Gracie, of course, but she sounded strange in the recording. Like she might have just been crying. And her words, “I really have to talk to you,” didn’t help.

  Yeah, him, too. He pushed Save, then speed-dialed her number. The phone rang and rang and finally went over to voice mail.

  For a second, the option of leaving a message stymied him. What was he supposed to say? He stood there, in the pickup lane of the airport, breathing in the exhaust, the cool air, the smell of desperate smokers, and knew he’d really gone overboard this time.

  “You don’t always have to fix everything. Sometimes I just want you to listen.” How many times had he heard that from Gracie?

  Yes, he did have to fix it. He just wasn’t wired to watch his woman struggle without stepping in. And then Yanna being in trouble had stirred up the past, and how he’d nearly lost her to a serial killer, and his heart suddenly did the speaking for his brain.

  He couldn’t just turn around and get back on a plane.

  Yet, all at once that seemed like a good idea. Because he envisioned the scenario when Gracie realized what he’d done.

  “You’re here?” Oh, she’d be glad to see him—or at least act like it, because that was Gracie. Sweet and polite and a terrible liar.

  Maybe Vicktor should face the fact that he’d over-reacted. He had a vague memory of Roman trying to talk him out of it. Very vague. He’d buy Roman a blow horn when he got home.

  It was just a part of Vicktor’s cellular makeup to care—really care—about the people in his life. But perhaps this was a case of overcaring.

  In fact, his being here had more to do with him, and the fact that he simply couldn’t take a full breath without her. However, maybe she could. Maybe she didn’t need him at all.

  He’d have to live with that. “Uh, Gracie, it’s Vicktor,” he said, finally, into the phone. “I’m…in…America.”

  Then, because he didn’t really know what else to say, but the obvious I love you, he hung up.

  Vicktor stood there, wishing he was more like David, who did his job without freaking out about the woman he loved. David knew what to do, and how to do it right.

  Gracie had always rocked Vicktor’s world, kept him off balance.

  Vicktor tapped his phone on his leg. He could probably call one of his old Russian cop friends he’d worked with in Seattle, like his pal Alex. But most of them had taken the oath, become American citizens, and agreed to certain allegiances. Like, turning in people in their country under false names.

  Vicktor wouldn’t be seeing any of his old cop cronies on this junket.

  A smart guy would have probably thought further than the plane ticket.

  Maybe…Mae…

  Mae was different. She had shown up in Russia a few times under the radar. Wasn’t she living with Gracie? Maybe he could break the news to Mae, who could then sort of explain to Gracie that her fiancé was in town…to save her life? Oh, boy. And then she and Gracie could have a good laugh and he could be the easy brunt of the joke—Mr. Overkill—and come in with his hat in his hands, and wow, was he sorry, and Gracie might even find it cute. Attractive?

  The hope clusters were about the last active brain cells working in his head, apparently.

  He opened his phone and found Mae’s number. He had to reenter it in American code, then pushed Enter.

  She picked up on the second ring—there went his faint hope that all cell phones around the world were switching over to voice mail. “Hello?”

  “Mae it’s—” The words got stuck.

  “Vicktor? I can’t believe it! Gracie’s been trying to get a hold of you for two days! You just disappeared off the planet. But she’s in trouble—big trouble.”

  Big trouble. Vicktor wanted to put his fist into something—maybe the cement pole, however, that would only make matters worse—but yes, he knew it, he knew it.

  He managed, “Shto Slyochilas?” Whoops, he hated when he switched to Russian, because it sort of highlighted his panic.

  “It’s a long story, but she got involved with what we think is a human-trafficking ring—”

  “Sokolov, we know.”

  “We—who’s we?”

  “Roman and I, well, David and Yanna, too, but that’s another side of the story that you really don’t want to know about right now. Gracie texted me, and Roman contacted a buddy in his office, and they’ve been watching this guy. Apparently he’s a heavy hitter on their bad-guy list. So I don’t know who she’s mixed up with, but I’m not feeling good about this.”

  “Well, you were right because this Sokolov guy is bad news, and we got Gracie’s friend away, but now Gracie’s disappeared—”

  He wanted to hit things again. “Disappeared?”

  “Yeah, after we got Ina away, I thought they would round back to the hospital, only that was a long while ago and we haven’t the foggiest idea where Gracie might be.”

  Calm down, take a breath. He moved to the side of the terminal wall, watching people as they flagged down rides or dialed their cell phones. “I’m not completely tracking with you—you got who away?”

  “Just…this girl. What is of key importance here is that Gracie is gone. And we don’t know where she is. Has she ever mentioned anything to you—a place she’d go if she wanted to drop off the planet, a place that is remote…I don’t know…anywhere.”

  “Did you call her?”

  “No, I thought I’d use my psychic powers, maybe get a newspaper and look up the horoscope—of course, I called her! Until I remembered that her phone was left in the hotel after the fire alarm went off.”

  Probably he needed to sit down. “Was she hurt? Please, tell me she wasn’t hurt.”

  “What, no I don’t think so, I mean, yeah, Sokolov pushed her, but I got there before he could—”

  “In the fire, Mae!”

  “What fire—oh, no, no fire. Just the alarm. That was Gracie’s brilliant idea. I got away, but I think he followed her, or maybe had someone else follow her.”

  “So someone is after her?”

  “Yeah, probably more after Ina, but now that Gracie was there—twice—he’s probably figured out—”

  “Sokolov?”

  “Or maybe someone who works for him, but whatever the case, I’m getting worried.”

  Yeah, him, too. She hadn’t flown halfway across the world on a hunch only to have that hunch confirmed. In epic scary-movie proportions.

  Someone, and he was talking cosmically here, was on his side.

  “Calm down, Mae, let me think. Which of Gracie’s friends would she go to?”

  “We’re talking about Gracie. She’s got plenty of friends she could turn to, but she wouldn’t go there, not if she might put them in trouble.”

  He agreed with that. There was pretty much nichevo Gracie wouldn’t do to protect her friends.

  In that way, he supposed, they were a perfect fit.

  “We were eventually supposed to meet back here—at the hospital—”

  “Why are you at the hospital? Are you hurt?” Before Gracie came along, Mae had been his world, and he didn’t just shrug that away. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s not me, it’s Yakov and Luba, but they’re going to be okay, too, if we can just find Ina and Gracie. The
cops are here—including one of your old pals, Alex—and they’re talking to the Feds about witness protection in exchange for their testimony, but first we have to find—”

  So much for Vicktor’s clandestine adventure in America.

  Vicktor leaned against the cement pillar, his entire body feeling weak. “Okay, listen, we’re going to find her, I promise.”

  The line went quiet. Then, “I’m sorry, are you…I mean…uh…I’m not trying to jump to any conclusions here but—”

  “I’m in America. Standing here at the Seattle airport, but the last thing I need is to alert the wrong people so don’t react. I don’t need Alex to know.”

  “Oh.”

  Perfect. That’s right, Mae, stop talking, glance at him. Way to be sneaky. “He’s looking at you, right now, isn’t he?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Her voice dropped, but only for a second because, now, in a voice that telegraphed, no, I’m not trying to hide anything, she said, “Well, do you know where I could find her?”

  “I’m thinking.” Vicktor blew out a breath, ran his hand through his grimy hair. He’d pulled out American cash from his ATM, had enough to rent a car. Walking back inside, he stopped at a map of Seattle. He’d lived here for a while, years ago, and collected vivid memories of hiking through Olympic National Park. Once he’d even headed west to Mount Rainier. He’d stared at it from a distance, thinking, yes, this must be paradise.

  But he’d changed his mind, since he’d met Gracie. Anywhere—he didn’t care where—was paradise, as long as she was with him.

  Paradise. Oh…

  “I might have an idea. I’ll call you.”

  “Vicktor—”

  “I promise, I’ll call you.”

  “Be careful. Please.”

  Tell that to the woman he loved.

  Big surprise, Kwan’s limo led David and Yanna back to his yacht in Taichung. Yanna’s entire body buzzed, and even wearing David’s jacket, she felt numb clear through. Three hours on the back of David’s scooter was like logging a thousand hours in the back of a Russian Kamaz with the top off.

  Her insides might still be moving a year from now.

  David had parked outside the harbor, hiding his scooter in the tall grass, and they’d hunkered down as the wind washed over them, watching, through her cheap opera glasses, the patrol of Kwan’s bodyguards. Oh, how she’d wanted to get onto that yacht, put that kitchen knife to Kwan’s throat. Even suggested it.

  “No, Yanna. We’ll wait,” David said, bringing down the glasses and giving her a don’t-argue-with-me look.

  Wait, wait for what? For Elena to be shipped off to Thailand or India or some other third-world country where she’d be caged and forced to…forced to…

  “This waiting is killing me,” she said, her knees pulled up to herself, David’s jacket tight around her. “What if we never find her? What if, by the time we get to her, it’s too late?” And it didn’t help her discomfort that rocks and gravel were embedded in her backside, her legs. Or that her feet were ice blocks, even inside David’s smelly socks.

  David looked at her then, a strange expression on his face. “I know, Yanna. I know.”

  But that was all he said. He put his arm around her and pulled her to himself, keeping her warm.

  In a way, David had always kept her warm, and right now, as he had his arm curled around her shoulders, pulling her to his amazing chest, smelling of cologne and perspiration and the soap he used in the shower this morning, his words found their way back to her.

  I haven’t dated anyone…

  He’d been apologizing for kissing her, but she hadn’t heard that. Not at all. Just…he didn’t have anyone in his life, either. She hadn’t expected that—well, maybe a little. He might have mentioned it during their online chats. But David was the kind of guy made for commitment, for marriage.

  For a family.

  He had husband written all over him, with his tenderness, the way he could look into a woman’s soul and make her feel safe. And he would be an incredible father—wise and kind.

  When he was home, that was. Because there was the other side of David, also. Driven. Dangerous. Focused. The kind of guy who would give his all for his country.

  The kind of guy who would also drop everything—his patriotism, his duty, his career, his life—for her.

  Which scared her, suddenly, more than she could put words to.

  She didn’t want this to end. Didn’t want to say goodbye after they found Elena. In fact, if it were possible, she’d stay right here, clutched to his side, anywhere, anyhow, letting him take her on the ride of her life—in a boat, on a motorcycle, in his arms.

  The thought made her tremble with how much she wanted it. He must have felt her move because he looked down at her. “What?”

  Now she had tears in her eyes and that made her feel even more stupid, so she didn’t look up at him, just buried her face in his chest. “I…” She took a breath. “What happens after we find Elena?” Her voice came out so softly she wondered if she’d actually spoken the words aloud.

  He didn’t get it. “I put you and Elena on a plane with Roman, and you go back to Siberia.”

  She ran her fingers over her eyes. No, she knew that part. And her silence must have confused him, because he pushed her away. The moonlight touched his beautiful face, filled his eyes, and the concern in them tightened her throat. Oh, she loved him. The magnitude of it washed over her. It wasn’t a crush—had never been a crush. But until this moment, she hadn’t realized how it would tear out her heart to leave him. Again.

  Her breath caught and she felt like a fool when tears glazed her eyes. She looked away, wiping them, but he caught her hand. “What?”

  “I just—” This shouldn’t be so hard. He knew her better than anyone, probably. Except maybe this part, the part she should probably simply accept.

  She wanted to spend her life with this man. She didn’t care what she had to surrender. Where she had to live. Even, perhaps, what she had to believe.

  Oh, brother, was she pitiful.

  He touched her chin, brought her face back to look at him, ran a thumb down her cheek. “You are so beautiful, Yanna.” And then, as if he might be thinking, feeling, exactly the same things, he leaned down and kissed her ever so sweetly, gently.

  She was crying now, her tears salty in their mouths. She put her hands on his chest and pushed away, not looking at him. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly.

  She looked up at him. “No, I mean after this. I don’t want to go back to online chatting, and wondering where you are. I want…” She searched his eyes, those devastating eyes, and it all caught in her throat—her longing, her fears.

  “What…what do you want?”

  You. “I want you to be safe.” I want you to be the man I come home to every night. Or vice versa. Or both.

  He sighed, wrapped his arm back around her, pulling her again close. “Ditto.”

  And there it was, glaring and painful, like a skewer to her heart, why they could never have more than this moment.

  Because their world wouldn’t let them. And probably, David saw the same thing. “Do you ever dream of getting out of the military? Of…getting…. married?” She could hardly believe she’d asked that, but let the words sift into the breeze, feeling him take them in on his breath.

  “Yes.”

  Yes.

  “Me too,” she said, so quietly she surprised even herself. And then, she realized, that perhaps, she wasn’t surprised at all.

  David would probably never erase the image of Yanna wrapped in his coat, nestled close, falling asleep in his arms.

  Nor would he forget the taste of her lips on his. He wasn’t sure why he’d kissed her again. Or why she hadn’t stopped him.

  But seeing her tears, even if they had been all about worry for her sister, and probably even some fatigue, had only made him realize everything they couldn’t have.

  Wouldn�
��t have.

  Do you think about getting married? she’d asked. Oh, yes. In fact, to her. But he wasn’t free to say that.

  And when she’d replied, Me, too, jealousy’s sharp fingers had driven into his heart.

  Lately, over the past seventy-two hours, he’d begun to think about being her husband, more and more, until it consumed him. Waking up beside her, teaching his children to hunt and fish, to make pancakes—and he was a firm believer in equipping all children with life skills. But most of all, seeing Yanna become the amazing mother he knew she would be. Behind all those smarts and beauty, Yanna had a gentleness and commitment that would make her the top in yet another field.

  But…and there it was, the big, looming, ugly but of his life. He was military to the core. It was all he had, all he did. He didn’t know how to do anything else. And he’d take bets that Yanna didn’t, either. Would their countries allow them to be on the same soil—even if they did resign? Cold War over or not, suspicions simmered under the surface of every political conversation, waiting to be stirred.

  Of course, that very but was also the reason he loved her. Probably why he’d fallen in love with her, even in college. Because she understood him and the way he thought, and how it felt to be driven by something bigger than himself. To want to make a difference on the landscape of the world.

  Which brought him to the big, flashing, neon-red reason…Yanna wasn’t a Christian.

  He’d kissed her, one last time, because, deep inside, he couldn’t stop himself, and he knew that this was it.

  After they found Elena, he would never see her again. It simply hurt too much. Tore huge chunks out of his heart every time he got near her. Every time they had an online conversation. After all these years, and especially the past few days, he was surprised he could still breathe, could still function.

  Well, he couldn’t really. Evidenced by the fact that here he was, sitting on a stakeout in a monkey suit with a beautiful woman in his arms rather than focusing on the party now spilling out into the night on the yacht. Kwan might have danced away, right under his nose, while David was caught by the expression in Yanna’s beautiful eyes.

  She was a distraction, and would always be one. And that could never be good for either of them. Which made him realize just how much he needed to stay away from her.