She shrugged, then realized he probably couldn’t see the gesture underneath all the blankets. “I don’t care,” she said. “Just don’t make it violent or scary.”
He raised his brows in an “as-if” expression. “Okay. So…there was this man in Afghanistan who had a three-legged goat…”
Jenna closed her eyes and let his words flow over her as he recounted the misadventures of the man and his goat. He had a surprisingly good voice. Deep and mellow, like Niko himself.
No, wait, Niko was mellow but he wasn’t dark. No. That wasn’t right either. She frowned sleepily, trying to work her way to her real meaning. Before she succeeded, she drifted off.
Chapter 8
Tuesday, Late Morning
Moscow, Russia
When Jenna awoke the next morning, she once again didn’t know where she was. She bolted upright in panic, until the red décor brought it all back to her.
Niko’s hotel room.
She sank back against the pillows and squeezed her eyes shut as memories of the attack in the restroom flooded back. Her quick, shallow breaths competed with the banging of the radiator to form a riot of noise that made her press her hands over her ears.
That only served to isolate her with the memories. Bringing back her attacker’s alcohol sour smell, the way his touch caused something deep inside her to whimper and cower.
But unlike the night her family was killed, yesterday she hadn’t been left broken and helpless. She’d fought back.
It had taken a while to get past her fear, but she’d saved herself.
And almost killed a man. What kind of monster had she turned into?
This is why Grayson never completely trusted me. He knew the fallout from the attack hadn’t fully hit me yet. He always said I was a time bomb waiting to go off.
Yet Niko hadn’t been horrified by what she’d done. Angry on her behalf. Sympathetic. But she didn’t remember anything even hinting at revulsion in his eyes.
Which meant what, exactly? She didn’t know him well enough to say. But her gut said it was a compliment.
Besides, she hadn’t killed her attacker. The only person she planned on killing was Kai, after he told her why he’d ordered their family killed.
Kai!
She jerked into a seated position. She’d seen Kai at the bar.
What was she doing, wasting time lazing in bed? She had a mission to complete.
She swung her feet onto the floor. Winced as her entire body shouted in protest, muscles and tissue sore and damaged from the attack.
Well, tough. All she needed was some ibuprofen and she’d be ready to move. What was important was getting back on the streets and searching for Kai.
She retrieved her pistol from under the pillow, gave it a safety check, and slipped it into her waistband. Then, wobbling only a little bit, she made her way over to her suitcase. She frowned at the meager contents.
Her clothing options were nil. All that remained in the case was a selection of sexy lingerie. She’d only brought the one casual change of clothes that she’d been wearing last night, and she had no clue where they’d disappeared to after she’d tossed them on the bathroom floor. If Niko was smart, he’d burned them, given that they’d reeked of garbage from her fall in the alley.
The remaining clothes had been sexy dresses, and Niko wisely hadn’t brought any of them over when he brought her things.
But that meant her current choice of clothes was what she was wearing. Niko’s sweats.
She couldn’t go out looking for Kai like this.
She’d just have to ask Niko to buy her some clothes. She fished some bills out of the interior pocket of her suitcase. Mark hadn’t given her any money to use, but she’d brought some emergency cash in both dollars and rubles. It should be enough to buy her another outfit.
Money in hand, she pulled open the door to the sitting room.
The sofa gave no evidence of having been turned into a bed, or slept on in any way. The bathroom door was open, the space beyond empty.
Niko was gone.
#
Mark Tonelli pushed impatiently through the crowded Moscow market toward the spot where he was to meet his contact.
Kai Paterson was on the run, thanks to an inept chase by his freak of a sister.
There were so many people looking for Paterson, Mark was worried he might not find the man first. As he’d left the alley last night he’d recognized men from both the KGB and CIA staking out the bar. Who knew what other groups were in town?
Mark dodged a child waving a sweet roll, narrowly avoiding a sticky hand grasping for his trousers.
Paterson was his, dammit. He had no intention of letting anyone else, even the other CIA operatives, get anywhere near the man. His contact’s information had better be good. He didn’t have time to waste.
Up ahead, at a narrow booth selling hot tea, a familiar rail-thin man sipped at a steaming cup.
Good. Petrovsky was on time. The small time gangster was an old friend. Mark knew there was no one more likely to be able to find Paterson. And to help smuggle Paterson out of the country once the man was in Mark’s possession.
#
Jenna was staring out the window at the street below when the corridor door opened. She spun to the side, weapon aimed at the intruder.
“Whoa. Don’t shoot.” Niko held his hands up, brown paper bags dangling above his head. “It’s just me.”
Nerves taut and blood hammering, Jenna sucked in a breath and lowered her weapon. She stepped back to give Niko room to enter while she put the pistol back in its holster. “Where did you go?”
“To get breakfast. Didn’t you see my note?”
Seeing her look of confusion, Niko glanced around the room. “Here it is.” He bent down and retrieved a piece of paper peeking out from under the sofa. His faded jeans molded to the taut muscles of his powerful legs as he bent down, reminding her of the strength of her assailant. A faint frisson of fear ran through her. Niko blocked her path to the door. Her heartbeat, which had returned to its normal rhythm, began to pound again.
“The air from the heater must have blown the note off the coffee table,” Niko said, standing up and handing her a piece of hotel stationery.
Gone to get food. Back soon.
Such a mundane note, yet it steadied her nerves. She blew out a breath. O-kay. So, she still had some lingering fear from yesterday’s attack. She’d get over it.
Niko wasn’t a threat. He’d been nothing but considerate and gentle to her. Fiercely protective.
She tucked the note in her pocket. As if on cue, her stomach growled. “Did you say breakfast?”
Niko chuckled and held up a paper bag. “Yes ma’am.” He set the bag on the desk and began pulling out items and unwrapping them.
The enticing aromas made her impatient. She crowded close to Niko, trying to see what was in the bags. But she couldn’t identify the pastries. “What did you get?”
“Right. Sorry. The things that look like rolls with shiny brown outsides are pirozhki filled with egg and scallion. The open-faced round buns are vatrushki with farmer’s cheese and raisins and the other round pastries are syrniki or fried cottage cheese. That container has sour cream, and the thermos contains hot tea.”
Niko grabbed one of the shiny rolls, spread sour cream on it, and sat down on the easy chair.
Jenna leaned over the desk, inhaling the tantalizing scent of yeast and onions. She’d never seen Russian pastries before. Breakfast with Mark had been toast and coffee. She grabbed one of each pastry, placed them on one of the paper wrappings, added sour cream, then sat cross-legged on the bed.
She bit quickly into what she thought he’d called a vatrushki. She made a low sound of approval in the back of her throat as the creamy center hit her taste buds.
Niko chuckled. “Good, huh?”
She nodded. As she ate, she found herself wondering about this man who’d taken her under his protection. How he’d come to the SSU. How he knew Mosco
w so well.
But those questions weren’t what interested her most. She pointed to the black mourning band that circled his biceps over his shirt but had previously been hidden by his coat, probably to avoid unwanted attention when he was out. “Who did you lose?”
Niko turned his roll over in his hand, then pursed his lips. “My father.”
His grief was so palpable, Jenna’s breath froze in her lungs. Pain threatened to squeeze her heart to a stop. The grief she’d buried so deep she’d thought it was dead, began to stir.
No! If the grief awoke, she’d be lost. She balled her hands into fists until the sting of her nails against her palms pushed back the emotions.
Niko, thank God, was too caught up in his own memories to notice her struggle for control.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “How did he die?”
“Pneumonia.” Niko shoved the crumpled wrappings from his meal into a ball and tossed it at the wastebasket.
So much grief. So much regret. Jenna’s throat tightened. She reached out and Niko flinched. He surged to his feet and turned his back to her, stalking over to the small desk.
Jenna retracted her hand, trying to ignore the faint bite of rejection. She hadn’t intended to reach for him, but some long dead instinct had moved her hand without her thinking about it. Otherwise, she never would have attempted to offer comfort.
She knew how much easier it was to ignore your grief and bury it if people left you alone.
Niko snatched up a pad of paper and a pen. “So. Ryker wants you back at the compound. I can probably get you on a flight this afternoon.” When he turned back around to face her, all traces of sadness were gone.
Jenna popped the last piece of vatrushki into her mouth. “No. I’m not leaving until I find Kai.”
“Not your call. Didn’t you hear Ryker? Everyone is after you. Russian and American intelligence. Alvarez’s men. No matter how much training you’ve had, your inexperience makes you vulnerable.” Niko glanced at the cuts on her forehead.
“I have to risk it. He’s my brother. I have to be the one who finds him.” And she refused to be controlled by fear.
“Yeah, see, you’re not the one who gets to decide that. Ryker’s in charge of this op. He says you go home. You scared your brother away. What good are you going to be in finding him?”
Fury incinerated Jenna’s delight over the pastries.
Hell, no. Kai was here in Moscow. She wasn’t leaving until he was dead. She surged to her feet, drew her pistol and aimed it at Niko’s forehead.
Niko raised an eyebrow and tapped the pen against the arm of the chair. Then, quicker than her eye could follow, he launched himself at her. He shoved her gun hand up and away as they fell, rolling so she ended up face down on top of him.
His arm encircled her neck and his legs had hers trapped. She struggled, but couldn’t get free.
And Niko had possession of the gun. She heard the click as he ejected the ammunition clip, and sagged against him in defeat.
“First thing your trainers should have taught you,” Niko said against her ear. “Is never pull a gun unless you’re ready to use it.”
Who said she hadn’t been ready to use it? She tried to dig an elbow into him, but she couldn’t get the right angle. Furious and frustrated, she tried again to slip free.
Niko rolled so he was on top. His hips met hers and Jenna’s breath turned to ice. But Niko pushed to his feet before the panic could grow.
“Second thing,” he said, stepping away from her. “Never underestimate an opponent.”
She clambered to her feet and glared at him. She hated the way his chiding tone made her feel six years old again and in trouble with her parents. “I’m not leaving until I find Kai,” she snapped. “You can try and send me home, but I’ll find a way to escape.”
The change that came over Niko was scary. His eyes just went dead. And his face lost all hint of human kindness.
Jenna shivered and fought against the urge to step back.
“If I decide you’re going home, there’s nothing you can do to stop me from putting you on a plane—willing or not.” His voice was flat and cold.
Jenna lost the fight for defiance and stepped away from him. Was this the man whose soft, rhythmic voice had lulled her to sleep last night?
“We clear?”
Jenna swallowed nervously and nodded.
Niko ran his hands down his face, and suddenly the man she’d begun to trust was back. “Just so happens, I disagree with Ryker.” His tone was conversational, as if nothing unusual had just occurred between them.
She fought disorientation. Took a deep breath to help her body step down from the edge.
Niko reached for his tea. “As long as you cooperate, I won’t send you back to the SSU. Your brother may have run from you, but when he has time to think, he’ll want to make some kind of contact. We’ll just be more subtle than Tonelli about letting your brother know we want to talk.”
“Okay.” She’d agree to anything if it helped her find Kai. “What do we do first?”
“After last night, your brother knows he’s being hunted. He’ll go underground. I hate to say it, but Tonelli has better contacts in Moscow than I do. He spent part of his childhood here, plus the CIA stationed him here for a half dozen years. He’s more fluent in the various Russian dialects than I am. The search will go faster with his help.”
Jenna grimaced. But she nodded, conceding his point. “How come you speak Russian, anyway? I heard you were in Afghanistan.”
“Yeah, well, there were a couple of old Soviet defectors living near our village in Afghanistan. They were hungry for contact with the West, so I spent a lot of time with them.” He shrugged. “I’m good at languages, and you never know what will come in handy on the next assignment.”
“So what languages do you speak?”
“Greek, from my dad. Spanish, from my mom. Russian. Pashto. Some Dari. A bit of German and French.”
“Wow. I thought I was doing well knowing three other languages.” Her throat tightened on a wave of nostalgia for the carefree art history student she’d been, eager to travel to museums across the world. For her junior year abroad she’d attended a program in Italy, and she’d also done two summer internships in Germany. Watching the variations in body language, discovering local art forms, and trying out her foreign language skills had been a fantastic adventure. Her gaze dropped to the floor and she cleared her throat.
“So, when you swear,” she said. “Is that Greek or Pashto?”
“Greek.”
She filed that away for future reference. “Okay, we’ll contact Tonelli and then…” Wait a second. She wasn’t going anywhere without clothes. She looked around and spotted her money on the table. “Um…Sorry, but first I need something more than just your sweats to wear.” She held out a fistful of rubles. “Could you please buy me some clothes?”
Niko waved away her money. “I’ll put it on the SSU’s tab.” His eyes roamed over her body, assessing her with a clinical impartiality. “Write down your sizes and I’ll see what I can find.”
There wasn’t a smidgeon of masculine appreciation in his eyes this morning.
She couldn’t blame him. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, there was nothing about her current appearance to draw a man. Her amber eyes no longer sparkled, but were solemn and dull as a dirt-encrusted coin. Cold, even. Her face was grim, almost gaunt. Her body was little more than muscle and bone.
Hardly feminine.
And even though it had no relevance to her hunt, her formerly dormant female pride gave a huff of resentment, remembering the scorn on Mark’s face when he’d called her scrawny and ugly. Hating the idea that Niko might see her the same way. Not wanting to accept that the heat she’d seen in his eyes last night had been a fluke.
Because…because…Jenna mentally shook her head, too afraid to pursue that thought.
What did it matter what she looked like? All that mattered was finding Kai.
<
br /> #
Wednesday, Afternoon
Moscow, Russia
Niko walked warily down the street. This morning, the receptionist at an eye clinic had recognized Paterson’s picture. She’d said Jenna’s brother wore a hat and dark tinted glasses, but she recognized his mouth. Paterson had dropped off a prescription for colored contact lenses last week. And picked up the lenses less than an hour before.
Unfortunately, the woman hadn’t seen which way Paterson went when he exited. So for the past three hours, Niko and Jenna had been walking up and down the nearby streets, showing her brother’s photo to every person they could find. With no success.
The address Paterson had put down on the clinic’s registration form turned out to be the address of a shoe store. No surprise there.
Although Jenna hadn’t said anything, he knew she was equally frustrated at their lack of progress. They’d tried to reach Tonelli yesterday, but the man had already checked out of his hotel and wasn’t answering his cell phone.
So Niko had turned to the SSU’s research department. One of the research assistants e-mailed him a map of Moscow neighborhoods with highlights on the seedier ones. If Niko were on the run, that’s where he’d hide. In a place where his neighbors were too busy existing to notice what he looked like, or what hours he came and went.
None of those neighborhoods had yielded results, though. They were now canvassing the second-best choices. Such as this worn-at-the-edges but still faintly prosperous street, with its mix of apartments and stores and a steady flow of people.
An unremarkable neighborhood, except for the tingling of Niko’s instincts. And the presence of two pairs of agents staking out the street’s main intersection while cautiously watching each other.
Niko would lay odds one pair were American and the others Russian.
No big surprise. Whoever retrieved Nevsky’s chip from Paterson would have the ability to create invincible soldiers.
Or monsters. Depending on your point of view.
Up ahead, three of Alvarez’s men lounged against the side of a building, looking completely out of place. Even a two-year-old could tell these men didn’t belong here.
Vengeance (SSU Trilogy Book 1) Page 9
