Close Pursuit

by Cindy Dees

  It looked like a storeroom with wooden crates stacked high along the walls. Alex was moving away from her quickly, and she hurried after him murmuring, “I say again, what da heck?”

  “Don’t ask,” he bit out.

  The far wall of the space came into view. It wasn’t a large supply depot or whatever it was, then—

  She stared as she spotted an old-fashioned metal console with what looked like radios and circular dials mounted in it. Alex sat down in the metal chair in front of it and wiped off the glass dial faces with his sleeve. Her jaw dropped as she spied Cyrillic lettering.

  “This is a Russian place? How on earth did you know about this? And the door’s lock combination? And about this radio?”

  “Later.” He stood up and moved to one side of the console. A big round wheel was mounted there with a footlong handle protruding from it. He grabbed the handle and began turning the wheel slowly. It creaked and groaned.

  “Get in my pack and pass me the petroleum jelly,” he ordered.

  She did as he asked and pulled out a small plastic container of the goop. Using his finger, he daubed the lubricant around the shaft of the wheel and commenced pushing at it again. The thing turned smoothly and silently this time. He picked up speed, cranking for a minute or so.

  “Take over cranking the generator for me, will you?” he asked.

  She shed her coat, laid Dawn down in it and then took over his position at the crank wheel. He sat back down at the console and flipped several switches. A small light came on, dim and flickering in rhythm with her cranking. But as she continued, the bulb glowed brighter and steadier.

  Alex picked up a potato-sized microphone and held it to his mouth, speaking rapidly into it...in fluent Russian.

  What. The. Hell?

  CHAPTER SIX

  ALEX SUPPOSED HE shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d been forced into using the emergency supply dump that his father had told him about right before he’d come on this cursed mission. Hell, for all he knew, his father had engineered the rebels following him and Katie to force him to come here. To accept the massive favor and debt using this emergency Russian hidey-hole represented. How had his father found out about his job with Doctors Unlimited, anyway?

  Peter Koronov was unapologetically a loyal Russian spy. The way he heard it, his father had never expressed or even pretended remorse to his CIA captors. Alex had no doubt that after his old man was repatriated to Mother Russia he’d received a fat promotion in the FSB. If only the bastard would give up already on recruiting him to follow in the Koronov family tradition of serving Russia.

  That was why Alex had gone to jail, why he’d taken this obscure job that would put him well away from the United States on a regular basis. That and he owed society at large for the excesses of his youth. Not to mention, he liked being a doctor, dammit. Of course, his father would just say Alex liked playing God with other people’s lives.

  He’d been shocked by Peter’s phone call just before he’d left on his first D.U. assignment, and even more shocked when his old man made him copy down lat-long coordinates and a number combination. How had the guy known he would need the information unless his father had expected someone to come after his son in Zaghastan? Had this whole freaking assignment been a setup? If so, who’d done the setting up? The U.S. government or the Russian government?

  Had Peter sicced the rebels on his own son with the intent to kill him? Was he that cold a bastard? Why would his father do a thing like that? Did it have to do with who Alex was working for? Lord knew, after the way he and Katie had been dogged, Alex didn’t for a minute think Doctors Unlimited was entirely innocent. There was definitely a snake in its humanitarian grass.

  Alex questioned his own arrogance in thinking that this mess might be all about him. His father might be that arrogant, but not him. Of course, his father would probably be right. Peter Koronov attracted trouble like a magnet. He’d tried so hard not to emulate his old man in that way, but he was beginning to think it was a lost cause. If the CIA and FSB wouldn’t even let him deliver babies in the middle of nowhere in peace, his life was pretty much screwed.

  Surely there was a reason beyond him that had larger forces at work. But what? And why? He was missing something critical. He felt it in his bones.

  Static snapped and popped over the radio, and he fine-tuned the frequency slightly, holding his breath and praying it would work. If not, he could only hope there was enough gasoline stored somewhere in here for them to travel several hundred miles on the ATV, a prospect he did not relish.

  He hated making this call with a purple passion. But as sure as the sun rose in the east, when that guy he’d stabbed reported in to whomever he worked for, more guys just like him would be coming. A lot more. All together this time. And with a woman and baby in tow, he didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of avoiding them.

  He made the distress call again.

  Without warning, an answering voice crackled over the radio.

  He had to yell into the microphone to be heard, but he relayed his position and the code words scribbled on the piece of paper from his wallet. There was a pause of nearly two interminable minutes, but then the voice at the other end of the radio returned and reported that transport would be dispatched to his position, ETA six hours.

  It was done. He’d made a deal with the devil. Let hell’s fury come. For surely it would, now.

  He acknowledged the radio call and signed off. “You can stop cranking, Katie.” He leaned back in the chair and pushed his hands through his hair in distress. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. But he had no choice. None at all.

  She whipped around, staring at him in suspicion and shock. “Start talking,” she demanded.

  “Look. This was not my first preference for how to get out of here,” he retorted. “But someone is trying to kill us, or at least me, and we’ve got a newborn in need of food and care. I had no choice.”

  “No choice to do what?”

  “I called the Russians and asked for an emergency evacuation.”

  “Why?” She drew the syllable out in disbelief. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. For all she knew, he was a vanilla American doctor who ran around doing humanitarian work. God knew, that was all he wanted to be.

  “The guy following us, the one I took the ATV from, was American. Redneck, Bubba, rah-rah-go-us American. The kind of guy who wouldn’t work for a foreign outfit. Which means whoever’s out to get me—at least tonight—is not Russian. And neither will his friends be when they come looking for us. This was the only safe, fast egress route I could come up with on short notice.” He fingered the cell phone he’d lifted off the guy. Who the hell would turn up at the other end of that thing?

  Katie collapsed onto a crate, staring at him. “And how do you know how to contact Russians to ask for an evacuation? Why on earth would they actually come get you? Are you one of them?”

  “Do you truly not know who I am?” It was clear she did not, but he was so used to the people around him treating him with automatic suspicion when they met him, he could hardly believe she didn’t recognize him.

  “You’re Alex Peters, M.D.”

  He sighed. “Legally, that is true. I changed my name last year.”

  “Why?”

  When he didn’t answer right away, she just stared, waiting. She was really good at that. Did she learn it from her brothers? Or maybe from teaching five-year-olds? He sighed again. “My birth name is Alexei Petrovich Koronov.”

  It took a moment, but her face lit with recognition, followed quickly by dismay. “Peter Koronov? The spy who was convicted of treason?” she blurted.

  “My father.”

  “Oh my God.”

  So much for their flirtation and mutual attraction.... He jolted as her arms went around him.

  “I’m so sorry, Alex.”

  He stood up, pushing her away, using his hands on her shoulders to keep her at arm’s length. “What have you got to be sorry
for?”

  “I read about you. I remember wondering what would happen to the son when the father was sentenced to death.”

  He shrugged. “My old man was never in danger of being executed for treason. He was too valuable as a bargaining chip against the Russians. The CIA got back several high-level spies in trade for my father.”

  “So he’s back in Russia?”

  He nodded. “He’s pretty well burned as a spy. His face is too well-known. I suppose he could get plastic surgery to change his appearance, but he’s also sixty-four years old. That’s getting up in years to be a field operative.” He added drily, “I’m told it’s a stressful and strenuous life.”

  Katie looked at him searchingly. “Is this why the CIA could be following you? Do they watch you?”

  He shrugged. “Above my pay grade to know. I haven’t been free for long enough to have figured it out.”

  “Free?” she echoed.

  They hadn’t told her about his prison time? He’d just assumed the people at Doctors Unlimited would have told her. After all, not many women would head out into the wilderness voluntarily and completely alone with a convicted felon. He swore violently under his breath. Bastards.

  Katie pulled back a little in alarm. “What?”

  “I’m sorry, Katie. I assumed they told you about me.”

  “They who? Told me what?”

  “Doctors Unlimited. Told you about my past.”

  She frowned. “My brother told me you were really smart and went to college early. That you studied math. And, somewhere along the way, you apparently got a medical degree. D.U. didn’t say anything at all about you.”

  His internal warning antennae wiggled wildly. “Who’s your brother?”

  “Mike. Mike McCloud. He knows I speak Zaghastani. He was chatting at a party with someone at D.U. who happened to mention they were looking for a Zaghastani translator. Mike hooked me up with this job.”

  “Didn’t you already have a job?”

  “I was just finishing up three years with Teachers Across America. Mike knew I was chafing against the idea of settling down to a permanent job as a kindergarten teacher someplace dull and boring.”

  She was seriously a kindergarten teacher? He’d half assumed that was just a cover story for her. Lord knew, practically everyone else who crossed his path worked for one spy agency or another. Good God, if she was who she said she was, she had no business running around in a virtual war zone with a man like him.

  The one and only saving grace to her being out here was that she was apparently looking for adventure. She’d certainly found it. At least he hadn’t completely misread her. The good girl might be looking to climb down off that pedestal of hers, after all.

  And he was not the man to help her down. She was far too naive and pure for him. He might have already thrown his own soul away, but he had no right to destroy hers, too.

  He sighed and asked, “Are you cold? There ought to be blankets in here somewhere. Maybe even a bed. After all, the radio operators had to have somewhere to sleep between shifts when this place was manned full-time.”

  At the mention of a bed, Katie’s mobile features exploded in a variety of reactions. So transparent, she was. Definitely interested in sex with him and just as definitely afraid of it. Smart girl.

  “You’re very good at distracting me,” she murmured. “Honestly, I could use more distraction, though. The past few days have freaked me out pretty bad.”

  “I bet.” He had to give her credit. When the bullets had been flying overhead, she’d kept her wits about her, followed instructions and pushed herself well beyond exhaustion without a single word of complaint. She was allowed to fall apart a little now.

  Reluctantly, he put his arms around her. “You’ve been very brave, Katie. Just a little while longer. We’re almost out of this mess. Focus on the nice hot shower you can have as soon as we get back to civilization.”

  She muttered into his shirt, “You sure do know the way to a girl’s heart.”

  “I highly doubt that,” he murmured back. “I’ve never been any good at understanding women.”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed as she snuggled closer to him. “You’re doing pretty good with me so far.”

  The strangest sensation coursed through him. Warmth. Affection, even. What the hell was that all about? He didn’t do relationships, for God’s sake. It was why he used hookers. They were all business. Pay the money; do the deed. No drama. No emotion. No connection. Call me next time you’re in town, and they were out the door.

  Katie’s hands slipped around his neck, which had the effect of plastering her breasts against his chest. His abdominal muscles tightened in surprise while his brain sounded an alarm. “Katie,” he mumbled, “we shouldn’t—”

  “Why not? Who’s here to judge us?”

  She had a point. Still...

  “Kiss me, Alex. I need the distraction. And the sense of human connection.”

  “You don’t want a connection with me, Katie. I’m no good at—”

  “Kiss me. Now.”

  Who was he to say no to a demand like that? He’d be a cad to disappoint her and leave her hanging, right? Who was he kidding? He was a big enough asshole to take advantage of her vulnerability, and that was all there was to his motivation. Very slowly, he slipped his right hand around the back of her neck under the weight and warmth of her lush hair.

  Her head tilted up and her lips parted slightly as she stared at him. Desire flared hard in his gut and that urge to plunder and debauch her roared through him, yet again. Yup, he was going to kiss her...and he was a complete asshole.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered. “I can’t read you.”

  Good lord, he hoped not! He had to step away from her. Save her from his brand of corruption. She was a decent kid. He should protect her innocence and purity and goodness. She was, in truth, all the things he wished he could be. All the things he’d been trying so flipping hard to be by going to medical school and taking this humanitarian aid job.

  But damned if he could make his feet move an inch back from her or force his hands to slip off her satin flesh. Plan B—he had to get her to back away from him. Fast. Scare her. Find a way to warn her off his brand of corruption.

  “I’m thinking about all the twisted ways I’d love to fuck you and use you,” he replied baldly.

  She did tense. For a moment. And then, dammit, she relaxed again. Looked up at him as trustingly as a lamb. Worse, she had the colossal foolishness to whisper, “I don’t have much experience with...with that. But I’d like to learn. I’d like you to show me.”

  His eyes widened in genuine shock, and he flung himself backward. Away from her. He staggered a half-dozen more steps back before bursting out, “You have no idea what you’re asking. I told you before—I’m not a good guy. I’m not Joe College, all-American boy.”

  “I know.”

  “Run from me, Katie. For the love of God, if you know what’s good for you, don’t get anywhere near me.” He stabbed a hand into his short hair and whirled away from her, desperate to distance himself.

  He heard her take a step forward, and he fled to the far end of the bunker, stopping only when his thighs bumped into a wooden crate. He looked left and right for an escape route, then spun to face his pursuer, as panicked as a cornered animal. She took another step toward him.

  “Stop right there!” he barked.

  Blessedly, she did.

  “I spent the past five years in jail,” he blurted. “I’m a convicted felon. I did hard time for DUI, reckless endangerment, resisting arrest and a bunch of other charges.”

  The other charges were mostly related to resisting arrest, taunting the court and baiting the judge, who steadfastly refused to throw the book at him until Alex finally broke down and asked the D.A. to convict him for his own safety. It had taken his lawyer some maneuvering to convince the judge to sentence Alex to four years in jail at her client’s own request without ever rev
ealing the real reason for it.

  “Sit down,” he ordered Katie. “Over there.” He pointed at a crate far across the space from him.

  She sank onto the edge of the crate, but damned if that determined look still wasn’t gleaming in her baby blues.

  “You are innocent. Inexperienced. Naive,” he explained carefully. “I am the complete opposite. I am neither decent nor good nor respectable. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  “No. Explain it to me.”

  He huffed. “My father—” Dammit, would he always be defined by the shadow of his fricking father? “My father and I have always had a...difficult...relationship. We were not like a normal family. He used me as a cover while he spied against the United States. I was a tool to him. Not a son.”

  “He didn’t love you? At all?” Katie asked in a small voice.

  “How should I know? We never talked about feelings other than to teach me how not to have them. They’re a weakness for spies. As long as I can remember, he spent our time together teaching me spycraft. I knew how to tail a subject like a pro by the time I was seven. How to slit a man’s throat by age ten or so. He did his level best to turn me into Russia’s ultimate weapon.”

  “Did he succeed?”

  Alex snorted. “It doesn’t matter if he did or not. Neither side trusts me farther than they can throw me. The CIA is terrified that Peter succeeded, and the FSB is terrified that he failed. I’m a liability either way. What I’m trying to say here is that he taught me how not to be a nice human being.”

  She absorbed that in silence for a minute. Then, “What happened to you when your dad was arrested?”

  “I got sent off to boarding school and on to college while he was very publicly tried and convicted of treason. Everybody treated me like I was a criminal, too. After a while, I got so sick of trying to prove them wrong that I started doing my best to live down to everyone’s rotten expectations of me. I was not immune to teenage angst, and I was a kid living in a world of adults. It probably didn’t help matters that I never got to be a kid when I was one. I had some childhood rebellion to get out of my system.”