by Cindy Dees
Katie asked as casually as she could manage, “Are we in any trouble?”
The woman, middle-aged, bland and smoothly diplomatic, answered, “Of course not, Miss McCloud. Your uncle was clear in his instructions. We’re to give you all the help you need and show you every courtesy.”
“Where’s Alex?”
“He’s filling in a few details for us on how you came to be in a cab being chased onto safe soil.”
Katie had lived around men with secrets and who avoided giving direct answers for too long to be fooled by the woman’s soothing tone of voice. They were interrogating Alex. She suspected he could handle himself perfectly well if they were, however.
“Alex and I need to get back to the States. We need to report in to our employer, and I’m ready to sleep in my own bed.”
The woman attaché laughed. “I hear you. If there’s anything you need that’s not in your room, just pick up the phone and let the operator know. Tashkent isn’t exactly the hub of civilization, but we’ll do our best to accommodate you.”
She was being sweet-talked. Coddled. Her brothers did it all the time, and it pissed her off. In this situation, it made her suspicious, too. But it wasn’t like she could rock the boat at this juncture. They had Alex, and she dared not say or do anything to jeopardize his fragile status with the American authorities.
If she called Uncle Charlie and demanded that he call off the embassy dogs, it would only make Alex look more suspicious. Like he actually had something to hide. He didn’t, did he? God, she hoped not.
She settled Dawn in the playpen someone brought up and crawled into bed, not at all sleepy. They’d slept last night and all today. Cuddling with Alex had been really nice once he got over being awkward and uncomfortable with it. One more wall breached with him.
She missed him. Hopefully, he was okay. In desperate need of distraction, she turned on the TV and was startled to receive a raft of American networks. She channel surfed absently, unable to get her mind off Alex and where he was right now.
Who was in that black car that had chased them across Tashkent? Why had Alex seemed so much more concerned after a bunch of foot soldiers had morphed into that upscale car? She got that Alex would be a controversial figure in American intelligence circles. His father was a convicted spy for the enemy, for heaven’s sake. But why would he be questioned so closely now? What was going on with him that he hadn’t told her?
He’d been secretive from the start with her, but he’d been opening up in the past two days, giving her glimpses into his mind and into his past. The person she saw was lonely and in desperate need of love. She was a sucker for abandoned creatures, and Alex the child had been about as emotionally abandoned as they came.
Oh, he’d technically had a father... But she got the distinct impression that Peter Koronov had been more of a taskmaster than an actual parent. She highly doubted Alex even knew what it was to be loved.
Such a contrast to her big, rowdy, obnoxious family, where love and laughter were part of everything they said or did. She’d grown up petted and spoiled as the baby, the only girl after five boys. Her heart broke for the cold, isolated childhood Alex must have experienced. And then to be humiliated by his father’s crimes...judged for the sins of the father...to bear Koronov’s shame...no wonder Alex had changed his name.
Did she dare try to show Alex what love was? Or was she just opening herself up for disappointment and heartache? She refused to be just a convenient compartment in his life. If she let herself develop deeper feelings for him, it would kill her to have him walk away from her down the road.
He’d been clear in his intent to do so, promising to get out of her life as soon as she was safe. Her reckless desire to reach out to him warred with the caution of self-preservation. And there was Dawn to think about, too.
Her thoughts spun around and around until she was practically dizzy.
Dawn woke up, and she played with the baby to distract herself. Who was Dawn’s father, anyway? When they got back to the States, should she go looking for the birth father or just take over raising the infant and not look back? Some intelligence outfit would have a rough idea who all had been in the Karshan Valley nine months ago, right? It was merely a matter of asking the right people the right questions. She couldn’t imagine more than a handful of Caucasians had been in the Karshan region. All she would have to do was approach a few men, ask them a delicate question or two about a stunningly beautiful local girl and she’d locate Dawn’s birth father. Easy peasy.
Her heart told her to walk away from looking for the man, but her head reluctantly told her she had to do the former. This was a child, not a stray cat. The birth father had a right to know he had a child. He had a right to choose whether or not to raise his daughter.
Did Peter Koronov have a choice about raising Alex? Had the birth mother foisted baby Alex off on Peter? Or had the Russian government ordered Peter to raise his son? To use his boy as a cover reason for emigrating to the United States? To hide behind Alex’s mundane upbringing to spy on America?
She smoothed Dawn’s hair, which was starting to grow a tiny bit and was coming in pale and blond and so not Zaghastani. Dawn opened her bright blue eyes and burped up at her. Katie laughed and scooped up the baby for a cuddle. She whispered into the baby’s tummy, “Us girls, we’ll show Alex what it’s like to be loved and have a family, won’t we?”
But as soon as the words left her mouth, doubt slammed into her. Easy to say. Hard to do. Was it worth the risk? Alex was an extraordinary man from what she’d seen of him so far.
Dawn gurgled back in what Katie swore sounded like agreement...or maybe she just had gas. Did she dare break through the walls Alex Peters hid behind and try to teach him how to love?
CHAPTER TEN
A DIFFERENT MARINE fetched Alex from his room the next morning and led him downstairs. He caught sight of Katie and Dawn at the foot of the stairs in the embassy foyer and relief jumped in his gut before he remembered.
She was not who she pretended to be.
He should have known. If life had taught him nothing else, it was that people were never who they said they were.
“There you are, Alex!” Katie cried. “We missed you, didn’t we, Dawn?”
He stepped close to chuck the baby’s cheek. “How’d she sleep last night?”
“As good as ever. She’s a great baby.”
He was vividly aware of the woman attaché from last night and the marine behind him paying close attention to his conversation with Katie. Looking for the two of them to send coded signals to each other? What did they know about Katie that he didn’t?
“Shall we go?” the attaché chick said pleasantly.
The woman undoubtedly couldn’t wait to get rid of him. The feeling was mutual. He was more than ready to get as far away from this part of the world as he could. Had Katie not pulled high-level strings with Uncle Charlie, he doubted they’d be leaving the embassy so easily this morning.
They stepped outside, and a limousine bearing diplomatic license plates waited for them. Katie, Dawn, attaché chick and he climbed inside. The marine officer from last night’s interrogation was already waiting within, scowling. Alex mentally rolled his eyes. But, hey. He’d take the diplomatic protection no matter how grudgingly it was offered.
The ride to the airport was quiet. He was not willing to give the Americans any more ammunition to use against him than absolutely necessary. He was happy to sit back and let this be Uncle Charlie’s gig. He was still staggered at the notion of Katie being a CIA operative. He’d never seen one as accomplished as she at giving no clues whatsoever to her training as a spy.
He ought to be furious with her. Looking to turn her or at least compromise her. But he couldn’t seem to get past his towering disbelief. His gut just wouldn’t wrap around the idea of her spying on him. Later. He had faith the rage would come later. And he would not hesitate to loose it upon her.
They arrived at the airport and were usher
ed onto the tarmac. An official in a suit led them up a staircase and into the passenger area of the terminal, bypassing the usual security checkpoints. Uncle Charlie must have some hard-core clout to have gotten the embassy to pull these kinds of strings for his niece. The marine from last night handed Alex a paper jacket containing plane tickets all the way through to Dulles Airport just outside Washington, D.C.
“Do you need us to stay until you board, Mr. Peters?” the attaché chick asked solicitously.
Gonna make him beg a little, was she? He answered with a calm he was far from feeling, “That would be helpful.”
The woman added blandly, “We’ve spoken with the airport security staff and they’re on high alert for any problems until you’ve left.”
He’d bet. She’d probably told the Uzbekis that he was the primary threat. Alex sat down in a plastic chair in the waiting area and pretended to read yesterday’s edition of Pravda that he’d picked up from the chair beside him. Katie paced back and forth with Dawn, who was uncharacteristically fussy this morning. Sensing disquiet in Katie, perhaps? Poor kid’s sleep schedule must be wrecked by all the weird hours they’d been keeping.
Their flight to Moscow was just being called for preboarding—which they qualified for, not only because they had a baby, but because they needed not to die before they left Uzbekistan—when a commotion broke out at the security area across from their gate.
The marine escort leaped to his feet with Alex not far behind. A loud argument had broken out at the security checkpoint.
Katie rushed to Alex’s side like a child running to a parent for safety. Man, she was a great actress. Hell, she’d fooled him, hadn’t she?
“What is it?” she asked with credible fear quavering in her soprano voice.
He stared at the group of suited men trying to bully their way through the phalanx of security guards who’d appeared like magic in a thick cluster before the entry point. Wow. Those Uzbeki soldiers must have been lurking just out of sight the whole time. What had that attaché told them about him, anyway? Hell, he supposed his Russian name alone probably would have been enough to garner that sort of security presence.
“Ohmigod,” Katie breathed.
He glanced at her and then followed the direction of her incredulous stare through the heavy glass partition. Behind the four suited men arguing stridently with the security guards stood another man, apart and aloof from the commotion. A face he hadn’t seen in years. His own face, but thirty years older.
“You look just like him,” Katie said in wonder and horror.
Peter Koronov. What, in the name of all that was unholy, was he doing here? Cold, sick shock filled his stomach until Alex felt like vomiting. It was one thing to suspect his father was in that Chaika last night. It was another thing altogether to know it. Was his old man so certain Alex would cave in and come home with him that Peter felt he could make an open approach like this?
“Does he want to talk with you?” she asked tightly.
Belatedly, the attaché chick spotted his old man and stood abruptly, her hackles straight up and all but growling aloud. As much for her benefit as Katie’s, Alex snarled, “I don’t care if he wants to talk to me or not. Wild horses couldn’t drag me within speaking distance of him.”
He glared in hatred as his father slowly, deliberately lifted a cell phone to take a picture. Except he didn’t point the phone at Alex. The bastard pointed it at Katie and Dawn. The phone moved slightly as the man snapped another picture of the pair.
“Why is he taking pictures of me?” Katie asked nervously.
“Son of a bitch is trying to intimidate me. He’s sending me a message.”
“What message?”
Alex turned away violently. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll never play ball with him. I’m done with him.” Big words. Empty threat. His old man had him by the short hairs, and they both knew it. That was the message Peter was here to send his wayward son.
“Talk is cheap, Mr. Peters,” the marine muttered.
The marine had no idea how true that was. Alex snapped, “Put us on the plane. Now. At all costs, don’t let him through that security checkpoint.”
Attaché chick moved over to the loud argument at the checkpoint to add her two cents while the marine hustled him, Katie and Dawn aboard the jet.
First-class seats, huh? Wow. The embassy must really want to get rid of them bad to spring for the expensive tickets. He’d expected to be crammed in the worst seats on the plane by way of petty revenge for their spectacular arrival at the embassy last night. Most likely, these had been the only seats available on such short notice. Or, he thought sourly, maybe Uncle Charlie had even more clout than he’d given the guy credit for.
Katie fidgeted beside him. “Will your father try to shoot this plane down?”
It was entirely possible his father had the influence to call in an air strike on this plane. But last he heard, his father wanted him to work for the FSB, not kill him.
“Even he’s not that vindictive,” he murmured to Katie, flashing her a false smile of reassurance. Not that he believed his own words for a minute. She seemed to buy his act and settled in her seat.
God, every way he looked, he saw nothing but betrayal. Katie was lying to him. His father was twisting his arm. His own government was hustling him out of town like a leper. Was there nowhere safe he could go? Nowhere to hide from all of them? He’d thought a remote corner of the planet in need of an obstetrician would have been far enough away from everyone that they would leave him alone. Apparently not.
He got the message loud and clear. Neither the CIA nor the FSB was going to leave him alone. Ever.
Half expecting the damned plane to get shot down, civilians and all, he held his breath through the takeoff and climb out to altitude. He didn’t relax until the dark blue of the Mediterranean Sea appeared outside his window as the plane finally descended into the massive sprawl of Istanbul.
He was not surprised when American embassy staff met them at the end of the jet bridge and escorted them to their connecting flight. The pair of men wore civilian suits but might as well have had signs around their necks saying, “United States Marine Corps badasses.”
He wondered if they were there for security purposes or to make sure he and Katie didn’t bolt from the airport. He suspected the embassy gang here didn’t want him tarrying on Turkish soil any longer than absolutely necessary. Or maybe it was merely another demonstration of Uncle Charlie’s power within the CIA. Either way, he was glad for the display of force. They boarded their plane for London without incident.
The same sort of welcoming committee met them at Heathrow and politely booted them out of England, as well. Twenty-two miserable hours after they left Tashkent, they finally landed at Dulles International Airport outside Washington, D.C. Dawn was fed up with airplanes and on the verge of a major meltdown by the time they deplaned. Katie was frazzled with trying to keep the baby happy, and he was so tired he could hardly see straight. Lord, it was good to be back on his home turf, even if it was as hostile as everywhere else he’d run to.
They disembarked, and nobody ostensibly met them at the gate. He didn’t doubt that security types were monitoring him and Katie closely on the airport’s extensive camera network, but that was ops normal for his life. He was watched everywhere he went.
Yup, it was really good to be back on American soil. The long flights had been exhausting, but that was only the half of it. Here, he was on familiar ground. He knew the smells and sounds, the rhythms of American traffic; he could spot the people who didn’t belong. People who were potential threats. Riddled with additional enemies though it might be, he knew the terrain. Plus, he had rights here. Resources. And the CIA could not legally operate on American soil. Not that such a pesky technicality slowed down the agency much.
Shockingly, the customs agent let him, Katie and Dawn pass without any hassles. They had no bags to collect, so they headed directly for a taxi stand.
Katie laughed a
little and said, “It feels weird not to be looking over my shoulder for tails.”
“Welcome home.”
“Well, not technically. I live in Pennsylvania.”
“Will you go there right away?” he asked innocently.
“I figure I’ll have to stick around D.C. for a few days. The folks at Doctors Unlimited are going to want to hear the details of what happened to us.”
Right. And she hadn’t caught him in her snare yet, either.
She continued, “I was thinking about trying to find Dawn’s birth father to let him know she exists.”
Alex lurched. Okay, he hadn’t seen that one coming. Good cover story. Believable. Credible excuse for sticking around town awhile longer. Smart cookies over at Langley. No flimsy cover stories for their operatives—no, sir.
A cabdriver opened his vehicle’s doors for them. “No luggage?” the guy asked.
“No,” Katie answered. And then she looked over at Alex. “Since you live here, can you recommend a hotel for me and Dawn? Something close to the D.U. offices, but not too expensive.” She added ruefully, “I’ve been living on a starting teacher’s salary and paying off student loans the past few years.”
He leaned forward and gave the driver a street address on the border between Georgetown and northwest D.C. “You’ll stay at my place,” he announced grimly.
“No. I couldn’t!”
“Why not? We’ve been living together for a while now.”
“But...but...” she sputtered.
“You need help with the baby. I’ve got an extra room. This way I can keep an eye on you two.” She smiled gratefully as if she’d taken his comment to mean that he wanted to keep her and Dawn safe. In point of fact, he’d meant it literally. He physically wanted to keep her close until he could figure out exactly what her marching orders from the CIA were.
