by Renee Ryan
“I don’t trust that man,” she muttered, regarding the exit with suspicious eyes. “Tell me again how you know Herr Reiter?”
Rule number one in espionage was to keep as close to the truth as possible. “He is a dear friend, one I see whenever he comes to Hamburg on business.”
Hermann Schmidt made a noise deep in his throat that sounded like a growl. “What, precisely, is his business?”
The uncharacteristic display of interest in her affairs chilled Katia down to the bone. This grim-faced Nazi was not a person with whom her mother should be spending her time. He was a formidable enemy, one who could ruin Elena if he uncovered her secret.
On full alert, Katia played her role cautiously. The key was to keep it simple. Consistent.
“I’m sure he told me once.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “I seem to remember him saying he owned a company that supplies the Third Reich with materials for the war.”
Schmidt’s features turned hard and inflexible, matching the severity of his tightly buttoned uniform and crisp white shirt underneath. “What sort of materials, exactly?”
Katia blinked at his impatience, the cold heat of the dangerous emotion flashing in his eyes. Fortunately, to Hermann Schmidt, beautiful equaled stupid.
The knowledge gave Katia a surge of courage, and a strong conviction to play this role to her utmost ability. Fluttering her lashes, she placed her hand on his arm and gave him an empty smile. Now, if only she wouldn’t throw up and ruin her act. “Is it really so important?”
“Yes.” He leaned over her, his eyes communicating an unmistakable ruthlessness. “It is very important you try to remember exactly what sort of business Herr Reiter owns.”
“You don’t have to take that tone with me.” Katia dropped her hand and pretended to pout, all the while gauging Schmidt’s mood from below her lashes. Why would a mere naval officer care what a man like Friedrich Reiter did for a living?
Before Schmidt responded, Elena pushed in front of him and softened her expression. “Try concentrating, dear.”
“Yes, all right, Mother. I shall try.”
She let out a sigh, careful not to overplay her role. This was no game. One misstep and her mother’s life could be in danger.
In truth, the British had told Katia very little about her contact. Standard operating procedure. For all she knew, Friedrich Reiter was exactly who he pretended to be—a wealthy Austrian shipbuilder.
Having stalled long enough, she drew her eyebrows into a frown. “Yes, I remember now. He is in construction. Or…shipbuilding, perhaps? One of the two.”
Schmidt’s lips flattened into a hard line. “Which is it? Construction or shipbuilding?”
She flung her hair over her shoulder, fully into her role in spite of the German’s open hostility. “Who can remember such tedious details?”
“You seem to have no problem remembering countless pages of dialogue.”
She gave him a pitying look and put the royal princess in her voice. “Herr Reiter is a patron of the arts and he adores me. Nothing else matters beyond that.”
Although he quirked an eyebrow at her, Hermann Schmidt visibly relaxed. “Of course, how could I have forgotten where your priorities lie?”
The sarcastic twist of his lips gave Katia pause. Like so many of his kind, this man was far too sharp to fool for long.
It was time to change the subject.
“Let’s not talk about Herr Reiter anymore.” She turned her focus back to her mother. “I had no idea you were coming to the theater this evening. You said nothing of it this afternoon at tea.”
A slow smile spread across Elena’s face. She looked at her escort with a question in her eyes. “Should I tell her?”
He nodded slowly, but there was a possessiveness in his gaze that had Katia swallowing hard.
Elena took both of Katia’s hands in hers and sighed. “Hermann and I have marvelous news to share with you.”
Katia looked from one to the other. At the happy expression they exchanged, a sick feeling of dread tangled in her stomach.
Oh, no. Please, please, no. “What…what news?”
“We are engaged to be married.”
“Why, that’s…” Katia’s breath caught in her throat. Even if the Lord had long since abandoned Katia, God could not be so cruel. “I…I’m speechless.”
“I’ve been waiting for your mother for many years.” Masculine pride danced in Schmidt’s eyes as he spoke. And something more. Something dark and ugly. And very, very determined. “Now I have her at last.”
Elena moved to the Nazi’s side and positioned herself shoulder to shoulder with him. “As you know, Hermann and I were childhood friends, before I met your father.”
“I remember.” Katia had to sink her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from shouting at her mother to wake from the nightmare that held her in its clutches.
How could Elena, a devout Christian with a secret Jewish grandfather, agree to marry a man whose only god was Germany and whose professed savior was Adolf Hitler?
“Congratulations.” She nearly choked on the words. “I am very happy for you both.”
“Oh, darling.” Elena pulled her into a tight embrace. “I am so glad you’re pleased.”
“I only want you to be happy,” she whispered into her mother’s hair before stepping back.
“Hermann has three days before he ships out again.” Elena’s breath caught in her throat and tears shimmered in her eyes. “It is my fondest wish that all three of us spend time together during his visit.”
Three days? How was Katia to complete her mission for the British with her mother demanding all her time? An unprecedented flush of desperation made her words rush out of her mouth. “But I am in the middle of a play. I have to be here every night and I—”
“Don’t worry, darling.” Elena patted her hand. “We’ll simply spend the days together then have a late supper after your performances.” Her tone was full of determination, a tone Katia knew well. In this, Elena would not relent.
Katia’s composure threatened to crack, then she remembered her British contact’s open declaration for her affections.
The man’s game had been an act, but a brilliant, impromptu one that could be used to her advantage now.
Her best chance was to continue the ruse. “I’m sorry, mother. I have already promised Herr Reiter I would spend the rest of the week with him.”
Elena dismissed the argument with a quick slash of her hand. “Cancel your plans. You must take this opportunity to get to know Hermann.”
Knowing better than to argue at this point, Katia nodded. “Let me see what I can do.”
Unused to having her wishes denied, Elena took the vague promise as complete agreement. “Good. Now that that’s settled, we would like you to join us for a celebratory supper this evening.” Supper? Tonight?
Katia couldn’t bear the idea of breaking bread with Hermann Schmidt. In truth, she feared it with all her heart. But she feared her mother being alone with the man far more. “I would like nothing better. Just give me a moment to change out of my costume.”
Without looking back, Katia fled to her dressing room. Weary from the drama of the evening, she sat staring straight ahead and rubbed her left hand as if it ached. A shocking wave of panic gripped her heart, making her breath sit heavy in her chest.
Overwhelmed, she buried her face inside her palms and fought back the tears burning behind her eyelids.
She was so…incredibly…tired.
How she wanted to accept MI6’s invitation to escape this godforsaken country and live in England for the duration of the war. But Katia couldn’t leave Germany without her mother. And Elena Kerensky would never leave. Not with her recent engagement to her childhood friend, a man who happened to be a ruthless Nazi naval officer.
How would Katia protect her mother now?
Chapter Four
After bidding Elena and her escort good night, Katia shut the door with a soft click. Pres
sing her eyes closed a moment, she released a sigh of frustration.
The night had gone worse than expected.
Already, she could see that Kapitän zur See Schmidt was going to be a problem. It had been foolish of her to hope otherwise.
The female in her wanted to kick something in frustration. The royal princess in her had been trained too well to give in to the childish display of emotion. The spy in her needed to quit stalling and formulate a plan.
Glancing at the mail laying on the entryway floor, she decided to ignore responsibility a little while longer. Food first, plan second. She hadn’t been able to touch her meal at the restaurant, not with Schmidt firing off pointed questions between scowls.
Clearly, the Nazi neither liked nor trusted her.
Good. At least she knew where she stood with the man. That would make her planning less complicated. She would use her fiercest weapons of cunning, lies and schemes.
Oh, but she was in a despicable business. Thankfully, she’d created many roles for use in her arsenal. By taking on other personas she kept the real Katia separate from the spy.
Rounding the corner, she caught sight of a man lounging in a chair in her east living room. Her chest rose and fell in a sudden spasm, the only outward sign of her inner distress. Otherwise, she stared at the British operative with nothing more than mild curiosity on her face.
He’d tugged his tie loose and had left the ends hanging on each side of his neck. He’d also opened the top three buttons of his shirt, revealing a smooth expanse of corded throat muscles.
Even in his relaxed position, there was a hard edge to him that somehow complemented her feminine decor. This man was one hundred percent rugged male, the quintessential alpha. Although he sat in a chair covered with pink and yellow fabric, he radiated masculinity.
Which did nothing to improve her mood.
How many surprises must she endure in one evening?
“You have exactly sixty seconds to tell me what you’re doing in my home, Herr Reiter.” The calm, detached voice was one of her most useful tools.
For an instant she thought she saw a deep male appreciation in his eyes, but he blinked and the moment was gone.
She lifted her chin a fraction higher. “Well?”
He didn’t respond. Nor did he rise to greet her, as would have been the polite thing to do. Perhaps by remaining seated he was reminding her whom he considered in charge of the mission.
Unfortunately for him, he had the particulars wrong.
“You now have twenty seconds to start talking before I throw you out of my home.”
Leaning farther back in the chair, he hooked an ankle across his knee then glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Actually, we’re now down to fifteen.”
Her earlier desire to kick something turned into an overwhelming urge to kick someone. By sheer force of will she reminded herself that this stranger was to be her partner for the next few days. Their success would bring the British closer to defeating Hitler. A heady prospect.
Katia might be able to carry out her end of the mission alone, but she needed Friedrich Reiter to deliver the plans to MI6. That did not mean, however, she had to make this conversation easy for him. “Tell me, Herr Reiter, how did you know where to find me?”
“It’s my business to know certain, shall we say…” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “Things about you.”
There was something in the way he met her gaze that brought matters to a very basic level between them. Another time she might have enjoyed the challenge of discovering the real man beneath the layer of polish and subterfuge. For now, she could only wonder what motivated him to risk his life for Great Britain. Personal gain, as most of the spies she’d met before him? Or was he answering a higher call?
Either way, the clock was ticking. She couldn’t afford the luxury of delving into his inner psyche right now.
“What sort of…things?” she asked from behind a well-positioned smile.
He slowly unfolded his large frame and rose. As he strode toward her, she shrank back a step, as much startled by her reaction to him as by the intensity in his gaze. He stopped a mere foot away from her, his heat chasing away the sudden cold that had slipped under her coat.
For one small moment, time seemed to stop and wait for him to speak.
“For instance. Your mother never joins you backstage after a performance.” His gaze stayed locked with hers.
“Never.”
Her fingers flexed by her side. Already, the man knew too much. “This evening was a rare but happy occasion.”
“Special enough for her to choose a high-ranking Kriegsmarine officer as her escort?”
Katia stiffened. She should have known he would go straight for the heart of the matter. “Hermann Schmidt is a friend of my mother’s. He is nothing to me.” She nearly spat the last of her words. But not quite.
Eyes still locked with hers, Reiter moved yet another step closer then brushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen over her eye.
Katia held perfectly still.
“Did you know that your left eyebrow twitches when you’re upset?” He tucked the hair behind her ear.
It took everything she had not to jerk beneath the impact of his soft touch. He was using familiar tricks against her, but she knew this role well. She’d worn it like a protective shield when she’d accepted the company of some of the vilest men in Germany in order to gather valuable information for the British.
The fact that Friedrich Reiter’s blatant attempt to throw her off balance was working shifted the power in his favor. “Hermann Schmidt will not be a threat to our mission. I give you my word.”
She was not surprised when he closed his hand around her arm. She was surprised, however, that his grip was gentle. In contrast, a rough warning filled his gaze before he released her.
He’d made his point.
“I trust no one’s word, Katarina.” No longer playing the role of seducer, his cold-eyed regard slid over her. “And I take nothing on faith. I believe only in my well honed ability to see through a lie.”
With the steel in his voice and the military glare in his eyes, she almost buckled. Almost.
This man was formidable.
In spite of the pounding of her heart and the bead of sweat that slid between her shoulder blades, she had to stay focused. It helped to remember that without her, there was no mission.
“Well tonight, Herr Reiter, you are misreading the signs.”
The air grew tight and heavy between them. His gaze turned harsher, deadlier, the layers of polish peeling away to reveal a cold, merciless man.
But was the transformation real or just another act? Either way, she recognized the strategy of a back-alley brawler when she saw it. If this spy expected to intimidate her with his act, he was in for a disappointment.
Jerking her chin, she swept out of his reach and began roaming through the room. Step by step, she discarded her gloves, her coat and finally her hat.
On her second pass, she strolled within inches of him, proving to them both she was back in control of her nerves.
Obviously unaware of her internal struggle, he dropped into the wingback chair closest to him and flicked on a nearby lamp. Relaxing, he watched her in a very masculine way that sent her pulse skipping fast and hard through her veins. He played this game well.
“You seem to be making yourself comfortable,” she said.
He gave her a crooked grin. The gesture transformed his features, making him look almost upright. Trustworthy. Decent?
Games inside games. Secrets inside secrets. How she hated the intrigue of espionage.
A jolt of weariness struck her then, making her feel hollow with an unfortunate mixture of exhaustion and doubt. She was not overly fond of the sensation.
“You might as well sit,” he said, indicating the chair facing him. “This could take a while.”
Knowing he was right, that the sooner they discussed their mission the better, she cleared her
expression and sank into the offered seat.
Before she could settle in, his demeanor turned all business. “Tell me how you know Schmidt?”
Katia gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white from the tension. She was growing more than a little irritated by the spy’s lack of faith in her. She was the one with far too much to lose, while he would be free of this tyrannical country in a matter of days. “Hermann Schmidt is a friend of my mother’s. End of story.”
“How close are they?” he asked. Asked. Not demanded. Oh, no, nothing so crude. Had he demanded an answer from her, she would have known how to respond. But now, she was…confused. This cunning spy had his own repertoire of schemes and tricks.
With another sigh, she folded her hands in her lap and settled into their polite clash of wills. She decided to answer with the truth. “They are to be married shortly.”
“When did they become engaged?” Although his expression never changed, his voice dropped to a low, hypnotizing timbre.
Nearly seduced by the soothing tone, dangerously so, Katia barely managed to keep from gritting her teeth. She wasn’t used to handling a man this clever with his words, or this cunning with his voice. “I don’t see the point—”
“When?”
She could feel the anger in him now. This interrogation had moved to a more hostile place.
Very well.
Katia knew exactly what to do with male anger. “I don’t know, precisely.” She spread just the hint of a pout across her lips. “They only told me the happy news this evening.”
Happy news? Rage flowed through her at the ridiculous notion. The Russian Revolution had already stolen her father. And now the evil Nazi regime had its claws in her mother.
Memories of her dead father swept across her mind, coming stronger than usual tonight. No matter how illogical, she couldn’t stop torturing herself over her failure in Russia.
She’d been too small, too insignificant to challenge the revolutionists. She had prayed, though. Without ceasing. For one full year.
