Chapter Eighteen

A cloud passed overhead, casting shadows across the outdoor mall walkway, and took the brightness and intimacy out of the moment. Kellee’s pleasure changed to a shiver. “Are you sure Nikolai will meet us?” she asked Egan.

“I made the call while you were getting your things from the changing room. I gave him forty-five minutes to get here or we’d leave.”

“How will we know him?”

Instead of answering, Egan stood and walked around to her chair. He helped her stand, then slipped his fingers along her neck and tugged on the chain holding the pendant. He lifted it free and arranged it so it settled on top of the dress between her breasts.

“He’ll find us,” he said.

The intimate gesture shot a thrill through her—until she realized what it really meant. Her pendant was a signal. Egan must have thought the jewelry was unique enough that it’d be easy to spot. She touched the pendant, still warm from his touch. “Then what?”

Egan draped her sweater over her shoulders. He took her hand and they walked toward the far end of the mall. “Then, sweet Kellee, the rest is up to you.”

The plan was in motion—there was no turning back. The magnitude of what she was about to do settled over her like a shroud.

She loved Egan. But she was forcing him to face a Russian Mafia crime boss. What if something went wrong? Her heart stuttered at the thought. Nikolai wanted her alive, but did he even care about anyone else? What if Egan was killed, just as those other men had been killed by Oleg—all because of her?

Kellee and Egan neared an area with benches as another cloud passed, blocking the sunshine. This cloud was larger than the first and changed the atmosphere in the elegant mall’s tropical wonderland. Noises echoed less. People spoke in muted voices. The outdoor mall began to empty as shoppers left to avoid the impending storm.

Egan headed toward a secluded corner. There were two exits nearby, one leading to the parking garage. Across a stretch of open space, another exit led to the outside parking.

They were still in a public place, however the corner allowed for some privacy and passersby couldn’t easily eavesdrop on a private conversation. A hotel room or quiet restaurant table might have been better suited for the meeting, but there had already been so many deaths surrounding Nikolai’s attempt to find her. She hoped this setting would discourage any thought of an all-out gunfight.

They crossed to a marble bench that looked more like a sculpture than a place to rest after a long day of shopping. Taking her arm, Egan urged her to sit under the palms. After a moment, a man dressed in a dark suit walked out of the men’s clothing shop on the opposite side of the walkway and approached them.

Kellee guessed he was in his sixties. Yet his iron-gray hair and dry lips made him seem older. His eyes were red-rimmed, as if he’d been crying. About ten feet behind him, followed a larger man wearing an ill-fitted suit. He had a thick neck like a pro football player.

“Shit,” Egan whispered.

“What?”

“Nikolai brought muscle.” Egan squared his shoulders and drilled the bodyguard with a cold stare.

“Should we leave?”

Egan looked at her. “Your call. I don’t like it, but this might be your one chance to get what you want.”

She glanced between Nikolai and the big man, unhappy that Nikolai wasn’t alone. But then, neither was she—she’d brought Egan. “I need to do this,” she said and scooted a little closer to Egan. She gave the older man a half-hearted smile.

As Nikolai approached, she studied his face, searching for anything that identified him as her biological father. There was nothing remotely familiar. Instead of recognition, she felt a glacier of ice in the pit of her stomach that made her wish she hadn’t eaten the pie.

She rose when Nikolai was about ten feet from them. Egan stood beside her, and she reached for his hand. Strong fingers wrapped tightly around hers. Warmth ascended her arm and melted the glacier a little.

“I do not see Oleg.” The older Russian looked beyond them. His bodyguard, a few feet to their right, stopped and clasped his hands in front.

“Oleg is being detained for now. He’ll be questioned for the murder of the two men back in the Little Landing.”

The guard shifted uncomfortably, but Nikolai nodded in understanding. “Both Oleg and Solonik must pay for what they did.” He then turned his gaze on Kellee. “Yelena.” he whispered.

Kellee barely heard him above the background noise in the mall. Oleg had called her Katya. Yelena was the name Petre had used for the woman in the picture.

“You are the image of your mother.” Emotion seemed to clog Nikolai’s voice, making his Russian accent heavy and hard to understand.

Kellee opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She could only stare.

“I would have known you even without the Royal Crest.” He stepped next to her and reached out his hand. “May I?” he asked.

Royal Crest? Kellee glanced at Egan. How had he known her pendant would mean something to the Russian? His face gave away nothing as he watched every movement Nikolai made.

She released Egan’s hand and unlatched the necklace. She held it in her palm, the sudden significance making it feel heavier. Holding her palm open, she let Nikolai take the pendant. Dry, cracked fingertips scraped like sandpaper against her skin.

Nikolai studied the double-headed eagle. Rubbed it between his fingers, as if sensing its intrinsic value. He licked his lips and a gleam entered his eyes. Clearly, this was more than a piece of jewelry to him. It must carry importance Kellee could not guess. She stepped closer, and he glanced up. Nikolai’s eyes looked exactly like her own.

The woman she’d known as her mother had never quite explained the mystery of Kellee’s brown eyes. Both her brother and Byron had green eyes. Katherine’s eyes had been blue. “The pendant, was it my mother’s?”

“Da,” he said. “Come. I will show you.” He reached inside his jacket.

Egan shifted behind her, and she glanced over to see the butt of a pistol under his hand. Where had that come from? She hadn’t realized he’d been carrying a weapon all this time. He tilted his head toward the pistol, showing Nikolai that he’d use it if he had to.

She looked back at Nikolai and noticed the bodyguard had taken two steps closer. His hand had slipped under the flap of his jacket.

Nikolai paused and eyed Egan warily. “Marcos.” Nikolai raised his other hand to halt the bodyguard. Marcos stopped moving, but his gaze never left Egan. “I wish to show her a picture,” Nikolai explained.

She turned to Egan. “It’s okay.”

Nikolai produced a tattered-edged photograph. His hand shook as he held it out to her. She stepped closer and stared, hesitant to take the picture from him. Would accepting it mean accepting him?

No. It was her choice. Not his.

Taking the edges of the photograph between her fingers, Kellee studied the details. Creases marred the black-and-white surface, making the image hard to discern, as though trying to see through a spider’s web. The woman was the same as in the photograph Petre had shown her. She felt as though she was staring in a mirror back through time. She handed Egan the photograph. “What do you think? Could this be my mother?”

Egan took the photograph in one hand while the other remained at the ready on his gun. He examined the picture for a long moment and then looked up at Kellee. “She looks a little like Katherine,” he said. “But her resemblance to you is uncanny. And she’s wearing the pendant.”

Her breath escaped with a sigh and moisture gathered at the corner of one eye. The possibility of this moment had haunted her since her memory had returned. The emotions she’d imagined she would feel didn’t come close to the devastating reality.

Learning the facts should have freed her. Instead, all the truths she’d believed while growing up, crumbled at her feet. Walls of identity that secured her from the outside world evaporated in a single instant, and she was stripped of everything familiar. She stood before the world, naked and alone.

Her entire life—a lie.

With trembling fingers, Kellee took the picture from Egan and stared harder at the woman’s face. A fierce desire to know more burned inside her. Why had this woman separated from the man who’d fathered her child? Where was she now? Why had she abandoned Kellee?

What circumstances had brought Kellee to this vast chasm in her life?

She had intended to get answers at this meeting. Now she wasn’t sure she had the strength to hear what Nikolai would tell her. Wordlessly, she handed the picture back to him.

“Nyet.” He waved his hand. “You may keep it.”

Kellee gripped the edge of the photo. It was a link to a past she didn’t understand, but a link she couldn’t let go. “Tell me about her.”

“You look much like her. Beautiful, regal. I should have been there for her. I did not know she carried my child.”

Kellee’s heart lurched. “What happened? Where is she?”

Nikolai reached inside his pocket again. From the corner of her eye, she saw Egan’s hand tighten on his weapon.

Marcos, once again, reached under his jacket. Nikolai slowly withdrew a handkerchief, waving it like a white flag.

Egan relaxed his hand slightly, but not his guard.

Marcos resumed his stance.

Nikolai blew his nose, then tucked the handkerchief away. “I was told she died giving birth to you.”

A bolt of lightning shattered the gloom inside the mall. Two seconds later, thunder shuddered along the tiled walls.

Kellee jumped at the sound—at Nikolai’s words piercing her soul. By being born, she had killed her biological mother. A tremor of sadness rolled through her, mimicking the echoing thunder.

She took a step backward and found Egan’s solid form at her back. A warm hand closed over her shoulder, chasing away the sudden chill. He led her to the bench and sat beside her.

Nikolai also crossed to the bench and sat on her other side. His bodyguard followed, taking a position slightly behind. Nikolai patted the back of her hand. “You see, Katya, you are all I have left.”

She stared at him, not fully comprehending what he’d said. “Why did you send her away?” she asked. “Why weren’t you with her?”

He frowned. “You do not understand. She left me.”

“Why?”

“She requested asylum in America.”

“She defected?”

Nikolai nodded.

“The cold war,” Kellee whispered. “I was born during the cold war.” A small piece of the puzzle fell into place.

“Your father, he worked—”

“—for the CIA.” She glanced at Egan. They’d discussed this a couple of days ago.

Egan slid closer to her. “Byron must have been there when you were born.”

“That bastard O’Neal stole her from me!” Nikolai’s voice took on a hard edge. “He had no right to take my daughter.”

“He was obviously protecting an innocent child,” Egan said.

“The baby should have been returned to her rightful home.”

“The Soviet Union? A place her mother—your wife—didn’t want to live,” Egan continued. “O’Neal surely felt duty-bound to carry out your wife’s wishes. To raise the child as his own was his only option.”

Kellee’s head swiveled between the men as they argued. This was her life they were discussing. Hers. And it was time for her to show it. She slipped the photograph into the pocket of her sweater and held out her arms, palms up. “Stop! Stop it, both of you.”

She stood and walked away from the bench. The openness of the mall disappeared. Walls seemed to close in around her.

Egan stood, as did Nikolai. Squaring off like gunfighters, neither man moved for a moment. Marcos remained in his position, watching the entire scene.

Then Egan deliberately stepped between Kellee and Nikolai. His broad shoulders radiated safety and comfort while she tried to assimilate all the information.

Ignoring both men, she turned her back and stared unseeing at the walls and fashion shops. She wasn’t an orphan. She had family. A bubble of hysteria threatened to burst out of her. She had two sets of parents. Both of her mothers were dead. It was a horrible, sick dream and she wanted to wake up.

“How did you know O’Neal was CIA?” Egan asked Nikolai, intruding into Kellee’s thoughts.

She faced them again, and the old man looked directly at her.

“Because I was KGB. We were enemies.”