“Did you see his face, Kit?”
“No. He was wearing a hood and all I saw was that gun. I know it was a Sig Sauer .22. Vadim used to make me keep one when he was out of the house, and I had to verify it was unloaded and hand it back to him whenever he came home.” She hated that Luther sat on the sofa across from her and Colt and Claudia. They’d left the evidence collection for several other SVPD officers and were debriefing in a small flat across from her apartment. She’d ascertained it was the place Luther temporarily rented. He certainly was a covert operative—she’d never realized anyone had filled the space since the previous renters left two months ago.
“Have you ever been targeted like this before?”
She met Luther’s gaze as she fought against the churning in her gut. “No, not since my divorce, months before, actually. And why do you think I’m the one the shooter was taking aim at? The window shattered right above where you were standing.” She didn’t want to talk to him about Mishka, or about any part of her past. She’d have to mention it to Claudia, though. And Colt.
His dark brow rose, as did one side of his mouth. “I’ve been in this town less than forty-eight hours, and I utilize the best counterdetection skills I have. To include technology.”
She knew he meant that he had all of his cell phone signals scrambled and switched out SIM cards regularly.
“Wait.” Claudia spoke, and they both returned their attention to her. “There’s a good chance that this is another one of ROC’s diversion tactics. Last month they made it look like they’d set up human trafficking again, and both TH and SVPD dedicated bodies to the case.”
Colt nodded. “Only to find out that it was a false alarm. In the meantime, ROC managed to get another million dollars’ worth of heroin onto our streets and the entire Harrisburg metro area.”
Kit remembered the catastrophe, and how much Colt and Claudia had berated themselves for falling for the criminal organization’s bait. She and the other SVPD employees had been just as upset. It was infuriating to be duped by the lowest of the low.
“It could be a warning about going into the woods.” Kit thought aloud. “If they have any idea that we’re on Ivanov’s tail.”
Claudia shook her head. “No, it’s not that. As Luther said, he’s taken all necessary precautions. He hasn’t left any indications that he’s on to Ivanov’s whereabouts. The two of you never met alone together, for this op, before recently, correct?”
“Correct. Just earlier today at the station, and at the diner for lunch.” Kit looked from Claudia to Colt. “If this is about Luther and I going undercover, there’s no one who knows about it.” A memory tickled her conscience. “I mentioned that I was on an op to Annie at coffee earlier, that’s it. And when we were at the diner, I saw Mishka. Vadim’s son.”
“Mishka’s been given enough warnings to know that if he even appears to be communicating with his father again he’ll be behind bars. I don’t think he’d risk it—he’s worth more to ROC on the outside. It could be random.” Colt looked at all of them. “And I’d be willing to accept it as such, but not when it’s your apartment, Kit.”
“My apartment?” But as soon as she asked, she knew exactly what he meant. “You don’t think Vadim still has people coming after me?” Her ex had been prosecuted to the fullest extent and was serving a life sentence in a federal prison out of state. The earliest he’d be eligible for parole was in twenty years, and the chances of him living that long after such a hard-core ROC lifestyle was slim. An alcoholic, Vadim had shown signs of being near the end of his disease process. Only by having to be sober in prison was he still alive, she figured.
“Not Vadim. The chances of it being him, running ops from a federal pen, are slim. But we always knew that the higher echelons of ROC might come after you. You’re solely responsible for the dismantlement of their entire trafficking ring from Ukraine to Silver Valley.”
“Solely? Hardly. The excellent work of Annie and SVPD are what saved those women.” And her life, too. “And they don’t usually go after LEA. Why me, why now?”
“You’re an easy target, unsuspecting with all the other activities ROC is involved in at the moment.” Luther’s quiet assessment was detached, void of emotion. So why did it stir up resentment in her?
“Wait a minute—are we getting to a place where I don’t go on the op with you? Because I’m too much of a risk?”
“No, you’re still going. It’s safer to have you out of Silver Valley for now. We’ll do what we can to find out about the shooter.” Claudia’s determination reflected in her voice. “There’s no way they know you two are working together. In fact, I’m thinking that if it was a way to scare you, Kit, the shooter may not have noticed Luther, and if they did, they don’t associate him with LEA.”
“That’s true.” Kit rubbed the tops of her arms.
“Cold?” Luther’s query cut through her racing thoughts.
“Yes, but I’m not in shock. Relax.” She saw the way he looked ready to leap to her aid. What would he do? Throw a blanket around her? “I may not be an operational officer but I’m no shrinking violet.”
“‘Shrinking’ and purple flowers aren’t something I’d compare you to.” Luther looked amused and she quickly glanced at her two bosses. But they were oblivious, in a quiet conversation, whispering with grim expressions. It tugged at Kit’s heart that ROC was affecting the couple. They were professional titans in their own rights, but also a married couple who clearly adored one another. As a cop or any type of LEA it was tough to come home and force the day’s work out of your head. It had to be especially difficult when you both worked for the same department or agency. Kit knew that Annie and Josh sometimes had trouble keeping work at work. Claudia and Colt probably did, too.
She looked at Luther to find him gazing at her bosses, a puzzled frown on his face. So it affected him, too.
“What are we going to do moving forward?” She needed to know if it was still a go at 0-dark-thirty tomorrow, or if she was to continue her regular police work as if nothing had happened.
“We’re going.” Luther spoke up, his voice resonating in the small space. Even with the open floor plan and generously sized kitchen, his apartment was still very modest, similar to hers. The thrum of the officers collecting evidence in her apartment sounded across the hallway, and drowned out Colt and Claudia’s conversation.
“I don’t think you can make that decision unilaterally, can you?” Her reward for the pointed question was a piercing stare.
“Ah, I am used to making my own decisions, but if it makes you feel better...” He turned toward Claudia and cleared his throat. “Ma’am.” Claudia stopped midconversation with Colt and faced them .
“Yes?”
“If it’s still okay with you both, we’ll take off early tomorrow, arriving in the AOI by ten.” Luther spoke with such authority it was hard to fathom a reason to calculate just how long this was going to take in inclement weather.
“AOI?” Kit had learned it was always better to ask for clarification than worry about appearing ignorant.
“Sorry—military speak for Area of Interest. I was in the National Guard for a bit.”
“Thanks for explaining.”
Claudia nodded, her eyes clear. “I concur with your decision, Luther. Kit, are you on board with what’s expected of you? Luther will provide you any protection you need, weaponswise.”
“Yes.” Although she wasn’t feeling the expectations they placed on her shoulders were so much about her language skills as regarding her need to completely trust this man whom she barely knew. But wasn’t that part of police work? Building strong bonds in a short amount of time, dependent on the mission?
The rub was that she didn’t need the attraction she felt toward Luther distracting her from the mission. But that wasn’t something she’d discuss with Claudia. Not now, not ever.
“Good.” Claudia spoke with a tone of relief. Had she really been concerned that Kit would refuse to go with Luther?
“Can I speak with you alone, Claudia?” Kit felt better speaking to her Trail Hikers boss about whom she thought the shooter might be. She didn’t want Colt’s fatherly instincts flaring, not when she was about to go on such a possibly dangerous mission with Luther.
“Sure thing.”
They sat on a double bed in Luther’s bedroom and it was all Kit could do to ignore how much her body reacted to his scent, which was everywhere. Pure man, but clean and strong, not heavy with booze or cigarettes.
“What do you need to tell me, Kit?” Claudia’s eyes were full of concern, but the woman was a shark when it came to solving crime and keeping her agents safe. Even a non-weapon-holding agent like Kit.
“I’m worried that Mishka, Vadim’s son, is stalking me. I’ve been feeling watched lately, and I’ve caught him downtown near me a few times over the last month or two.”
Claudia’s mouth melted into a grim line. “This is something that would have been a good idea to tell me or Colt sooner, Kit.”
“I know. But I hadn’t seen him since the trial, and when I did recognize him I figured it was a coincidence. At least the first time.”
“There is no such thing as coincidence with ROC.” Claudia’s concern appeared to outweigh her disappointment that Kit hadn’t said something sooner.
“I’m sorry, Claudia. It might not be him, but it was pretty clear that the shooter aimed for Luther. And I’ve... I’ve never had a man in my apartment before. If it is him, it makes sense he’d go after Luther.”
“He has no clue who he aimed at.” Claudia’s lips lifted in a wry smile. “I almost feel sorry for the jerk. Luther could take him out with one hand, given the chance.”
“I’m sure he can.”
“You go on your mission with Luther. As I said, it’s better to have you out of sight for the time being. We’ll keep an eye on Mishka, although both TH and SVPD are strapped for manpower.” Claudia sighed. “I’d really hoped to have ROC out of here by now. Only this last big fish to catch and we’ll have done our job for the East Coast.”
Kit thought about how nice it would be to live in Silver Valley and have it like everyone said it was before ROC tainted it.
“I’m here to do whatever it takes.”
Mishka Valensky pounded his sofa in frustration, in the process knocking over the empty Baltika 7 bottles he’d placed on the cocktail table. His father, Vadim, had been unable to find out where Ivanov was holing up, as Vlad, Ivanov’s son, refused to give out an inch of information.
Mishka needed to know where Ivanov was. He had to see the bastard in person. It was the only way he’d convince him that he wasn’t as stupid as his father, that he could be trusted to run whatever part of ROC Ivanov needed him for.
But he needed Kit by his side to seal the deal with Ivanov. Unless he convinced Ivanov he had her under his control, Mishka’s name was as good as mud because of how Kit’s testimony helped put his father away. Much of the hearing had been closed, and no one knew, save for the jury, what Kit had said about Vadim, Ivanov or ROC. Mishka didn’t think she was smart enough to really grasp what an important figure Vadim had been, and she’d been motivated to save those girls his father had stupidly hid on his own property. He could convince Ivanov of this, if Kit was by his side, where she belonged.
He’d been so close to getting to her, convincing her to come with him, and now... Nothing.
It’d been satisfying to watch the fear dance over her face when she saw him at the diner. He’d gotten overly excited, though, and risked too much, too soon.
Because of his stupidity Kit had disappeared right after he’d tried to shoot the freaking bastard who was in her apartment. It was the same man she’d been with at the diner. He had no idea who the man was, but he knew it spelled trouble.
According to his contacts, Kit hadn’t had a man in her apartment the entire time she’d lived there, since moving out of the mansion his father had built for her. Remembering how she’d never appeared comfortable or grateful for how hard his father worked made Mishka want to sit her down for a hard conversation.
He put his feet on the low table and tried to force himself to relax. The boys had the shop for this afternoon and tomorrow, since they weren’t expecting a lot of business the day before Thanksgiving. He looked at the empty pizza boxes next to his foot and kicked them aside, making the rest of the bottles hit the floor with a thud. This piece of crap apartment was a far cry from the luxury his father had kept them all in for many, many years.
And because of Kit, it was all gone.
Mishka knew he should hate her and want to take her out like any other enemy of ROC, but Kit was different. She hadn’t had a chance, coming from Ukraine. She wasn’t pure-blooded Russian like his family. He was certain that with the right man she’d come around and see the truth and where her loyalties should lie.
With him.
His phone lit up and he saw it was his father, who was allowed one call per week. They had to talk in code and save the important information exchanges for when Mishka visited the prison and could see his father’s facial expressions, make sure he was following Vadim’s instructions properly.
“Da.” They only spoke in Russian, to make things harder for any of the prison guards who might listen in.
“Son, you coming up this week?”
“Yes, of course. What do you want or need?” He wasn’t allowed to bring Vadim a whole hell of a lot, but sometimes with the right size bill one of the guards they trusted would allow a jar of cherny ikra, black caviar. Vodka too, as long as there was enough for the guard and his friends.
“Nothing. Just time with my son.” That meant at least the vodka. Vadim had been struggling lately, as every channel he and Mishka had used to keep their ops running enough to bring in some money to the pawnshop had dried up. Vadim believed that Ivanov was in trouble, possibly done running ROC. From the news reports Mishka read over the last year, the ROC East Coast honcho had disappeared. That would leave Vlad running the show, never a good option. Vlad was crazier than Ivanov. There’d be no room for Mishka in an organization run by Vlad Ivanov.
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine, my father. Have you heard from anyone in the family since we last spoke?”
“Nyet.” Vadim’s voice was thick with frustration, and Mishka imagined his father’s hands shaking from alcohol withdrawal. The amount of liquor he smuggled in was a fraction of what Vadim had been consuming on a daily basis before his arrest.
“That is disappointing, Father.” Annoyance roiled his gut, and he stood, pacing in the tiny room while holding the cell to his ear. “I can’t do my job well if I don’t have all the right training.” Their code for “I need more information.” Like where the hell Ivanov was holed up.
Because where Ivanov was, he had to believe Kit was headed there, working with SVPD, and now, FBI. The man he’d tried to shoot looked like FBI. Typical American jerk. The other option, that she’d suddenly disappear, go into witness protection, wasn’t something Mishka could look at. It was too frightening. It would put an end to all he’d anticipated since the day he’d found out she’d divorced Vadim.
Mishka wouldn’t rest until he had Kit under lock and key. And maybe under him, too.
“Come as soon as you can, son. I am a lonely old man here.”
“Goodbye, Father.”
He hung up and flipped through television channels, looking for some afternoon porn to while away the time until he had another idea of where she might have gone.
There were two possibilities:
He’d assigned his minions to watch Kit ever since the ungrateful bitch sent his father to prison. Vadim had given the peasant bitch from Ukraine a beautiful home, all the designer labels a woman could want, and still she’d turned him over to the American authorities.
Vadim told him that he should let it go, let the woman who called herself Kit Danilenko go. They’d rebuild their corner of ROC in Silver Valley without her to mess things up again.
But Mishka could never let her go. He’d wanted her the moment his father had brought her home, when he’d foolishly believed Vadim would give her to him, his only son, as a fatherly gift for all the grunt work Mishka did at the pawnshop and keeping the ROC honchos off their backs. He’d been thirty years old at the time and she was sixteen. A far better match than his father, who was fifty-three and old enough to be her grandfather.
It had been a direct kick to his balls when Vadim had invited Mishka to the courthouse wedding, enabled by the fake IDs he’d had produced for Kit to show she was eighteen and of legal age. His father hadn’t shown any sign of comprehending how foolish he appeared. For Vadim, it was a show of Russian power and sexual prowess to wed a young, beautiful girl.
Kit, for her part, had been a frightened little kitten, like her name. Her fear had turned to bitter resentment within days, and she’d never given Mishka the respect he deserved.
Mishka had offered to help her out, to ease what he knew had to be less than satisfying sexual encounters with his drunk father. But she’d spurned him at every turn, refusing to give in to the chemistry that he felt between them.
It only made sense after his father went to jail, taking the blame for both of them and protecting Mishka from prosecution, that Mishka would seek her out and make up for how rough Vadim had been on her. But she’d completely changed not only her name but her life. At first it had been hard to track her down. He’d panicked, thinking she’d gone into the witness protection program. But then fate interceded, in the guise of one of the ROC operatives who’d been arrested for money laundering in Silver Valley’s big-box stores.
The ROC man had been in the pawnshop years before and remembered seeing Kit at one time. He recognized her standing with a group of SVPD cops right after he’d been busted in a sting against the local ROC, and told Vadim, already in jail.
That was over a year ago. With his abilities to continue regular ROC ops severely limited, Mishka had scraped out a living at the pawnshop and found a new hobby.
Keeping tabs on Kit.
Crap and double crap. Luther wasn’t immune to the constant tension that flowed between him and Kit, nor was he beholden to it. He’d been here before, but it had been a very different situation. When Evalina had betrayed him to her drug-loving mob boss, it had seemed too easy. And it had been. It’d been a setup, one in which he could have easily been killed. As it worked out, it was Evalina who’d lost her life. He’d gained another ROC defendant, one who was going to jail for at least thirty days. Not as reassuring as the lifelong sentence Kit’s ex-husband had received, but close enough. He’d take the odds.
Still, playing bodyguard to the civilian equivalent of a noncombatant wasn’t in his arsenal of favorite assignments, either.
He stood in his apartment, prepping the last of the supplies he’d load in the Jeep before they left. It was thirty minutes until he knocked on Kit’s door and told her to be ready. He’d had her sleep in the one bedroom, while he took the pullout sofa. He, Colt and Claudia had all agreed it was the smartest thing to do, with the shooter still at large. No one could count on the perpetrator being random.
Soft footsteps alerted him that Kit was awake right before she entered the tiny kitchen and eating area. She looked no worse for wear, which didn’t raise his spirits. It’d be easier if she were an aloof jerk, and not exactly his type. Athletic and down-to-earth, with a good grasp of logical problem solving skills. The way he’d watched her emotions play across her face last night as they’d discussed their options with Claudia and Colt—Kit knew her stuff and wasn’t afraid of doing the next right thing.
Going with him into the woods proved that.
“Good morning. I’m packed and ready to go.” Fresh scrubbed skin sans makeup with her hair pulled up into a long ponytail took him aback. The professional woman with her hair twisted up yesterday had vanished and in her place was this very young, very vulnerable-looking duplicate. Her eyes sparkled with intent. “What’s the problem?”
“Problem? There’s no problem.”
She sniffed. “That’s right, there isn’t a problem. I’m not in uniform like you’ve been for a good part of your life from what I can tell, but I’m not going to weigh you down. I’ll keep things running in the background so that you can do whatever you need to do.”
“That’s great, Kit, except that my job is your job until we determine we’re onto Ivanov. I’m not going to be using any of the weapons we’re bringing along unless the situation flips on its head.”
Kit’s eyes widened and he realized with a jolt that the deep blue depths were definitely the kind he’d be able to get lost in.
Stop. Mission first.
“Yeah, I thought so.” He moved to the counter and slapped together the toast and egg sandwiches he’d laid out for them. The coffee shop would be open; nothing he made here would be better than that. Plus it’d start their alibi that they were going off for a hunting weekend, if ROC was watching them.
“Thought what?” Instead of backing away, Kit walked up next to him at the tiny counter.
“Please. Don’t insult either of us. We both know this will be a very boring, routine mission if it goes as planned.” With long hours together in a small cabin, waiting for Ivanov’s cell phone to light up on the comms gear laptop.
Kit’s mouth spread into a wide grin. “You’re kidding, right? I thought you were an ROC subject matter expert.”
“No one’s a complete expert on ROC, but yeah, I know a good amount.”
Her grin, mesmerizing as her pink lips framed it, morphed into a sardonic twist. “Then you should know above all else that you always have to expect the unexpected with them. Sure, we know that if they sniff us out, we’ll spook them and they’ll run. But ROC, like my ex, doesn’t like to leave any trace behind, including any cops that were after them. Trust me, this mission is anything but routine.”
As she spoke, he watched her, heard her voice, recognized the words. And he didn’t disagree. ROC was a fearsome opponent, and its members, especially its leader, Ivanov, didn’t tolerate any kind of LEA who’d discovered them. The stakes were even higher now with Ivanov basically running on empty financially. Save for the missing billion dollars that they all thought Markova might be connected to in some way.
“You’re quiet, agent.” Kit’s eyes tilted up as she smiled. It wasn’t a sarcastic or mean comment, simply collegial.
“I’m listening. I know when someone has a good thing to share.”
No, he hadn’t been surprised by anything she’d said. It was how he felt as he stood next to her, watched her, absorbed her presence. Kit Danilenko was a woman unlike any he’d worked with before.
“You’re smiling now. Why?” She’d caught the grin on his face.
“I’m laughing at myself. You’ve put my assumptions of you on their asses.”
He left out one thing. She’d knocked him on his butt, too.
Not something he normally let a woman do. As if he had a choice with Kit.