How long has Silas been watching me?
What else does he know?
The only option I have now is to reach my house, change clothes, and throw an extra set of clothing into a bag in record time, then clear out of there before he shows up. My heart is running away in my chest, pounding so hard, my skin is visibly jumping with each beat under the thin fabric of my dress. I know I should be planning my next move—where I’ll hide out now that I know the rest of the government agencies will be after me—but all I can think about is what Silas said while we were dancing.
Mira isn’t behind bars. She isn’t being held in a dark, cold cell somewhere, being tortured for information. She’s happy and healthy and being taken care of by an American family.
But Silas is a spy, too. He’s trained to tell lies for a living, to make others believe every word that falls from his lips. I have to consider his story about Mira could be a carefully constructed scheme to get information from me. Maybe they broke her and that’s how he found me, intending to finish the job by finishing me.
My mother wouldn’t be in on a scheme like that, though. She’d die before she’d help anyone hurt us. In this entire confusing and maddening situation, that’s the only fact I can cling to and not second-guess.
She said Silas would help me.
However, she doesn’t know what I’ve discovered. And with that damning information in my head, I can’t leave. If only I could convince Silas to help me instead of just throwing me on a plane back to Moscow. But that would’ve been a highly unlikely “if,” even before I ditched him at the gala.
True to his word, the cab driver ran every red light and stop sign between the Reagan Building and my house to get the promised extra tip for getting me home in record time. I discreetly slide the $100 bill out of my bra and hand it to him. “Keep the change.”
“Hey, thanks, lady!”
His night is made. Mine is falling apart. Story of my life.
I rush to the front porch, retrieve the hidden spare key, and head straight for my bedroom closet. After I kick off my shoes and leave the beautiful gown in a crumpled pile on the floor, I pull an oversized black hoodie over my head, slide black leggings over my legs, and complete the blackness of my mood with matching socks and boots. Extra jeans, sweaters, undergarments, and sneakers are shoved into a duffle bag, along with a stack of hidden cash and new identification, before I rush to the living room to grab my laptop and phone.
Everything else I’ve accumulated will have to stay. There’s no time for sentimental attachments to material things when I live my life on the run day after day. With my electronics safely stashed in my bag, I turn from the table and take two steps toward the front door…before two strong arms grab me from behind. One muscular leg wraps around mine, hooking my ankle and preventing me from fighting back. Wrapped in a blanket of thick muscle and hard body, I can’t even move.
My front door swings open, and Silas steps inside the frame, taking up the entire space with his enormous size. He crosses his arms, lowers his chin toward his chest, and glares menacingly at me. One thing I’ve learned about the men in this business—they don’t care if the enemy is male or female. The same treatment is doled out regardless of sex, strength, or circumstances. From the way Silas is burning holes through me with the anger in his eyes, I’m not looking forward to the next few minutes.
“Kira, that was an incredibly stupid move.” Silas moves inside and closes the door behind him. “As I recall, I offered to help you leave this country without being captured and sent to Gitmo for being a Russian spy and stealing top-secret government documents.”
He takes the duffle bag from my tight grip with no effort at all and makes a point of looking it over. Then he cuts his eyes back to mine, barely hiding the anger seething just underneath. “And yet, this packed getaway bag makes me believe you were planning to disappear and continue your attack on my country.”
When I don’t reply, he shifts his eyes from mine to the man behind me. After a barely perceptible nod from Silas, I feel the tight coil of muscles encircle my neck a split second before I slip into complete darkness.
Chapter 4
Kira
I begin to rouse to the gentle rocking of a moving vehicle. Instinct nudges me before realization sets in, and I sit straight up with a start. We’re well outside the city now, and everything is pitch black. Silas is driving; I can make out his silhouette from the back seat. Two large men flank me, leaving me very little room to move between their hulking forms. In fact, I think my cheek rested on one man’s shoulder before I woke.
“Which one of you choked me out?”
A dark chuckle rumbles through the chest of the man to my left. “That was me, but I didn’t choke you. It’s a special technique that just helps you go right to sleep with no fuss.”
I don’t know this dickhead from Adam, and I have no idea where they’re taking me or what they’re planning to do to me once we get there. Years of training kick in, and I react violently, regardless of the massive men sandwiching me in the middle of the back seat, regardless of the moving vehicle, and regardless of the dark streets with no discernable landmarks to tell me where I am.
When my elbow connects with his nose, the familiar pop of bone and cartilage giving way echoes through the vehicle. His eyes shut involuntarily, and his hands fly to cover his face on pure reflex. I lunge for the car door on the other side of him, ready to tuck and roll before disappearing into the night, far from these men. Just as my fingers wrap around the door handle, two strong arms grab me from behind and haul me across the seat into his lap.
“Calm the fuck down. We’re not here to hurt you—unless you make us.”
“The fuck you say. He just knocked me out, and you three loaded me into a vehicle against my will. Now we’re in the middle of Bumfuck, Egypt, and you think I should just go along and trust you?”
“I think you just broke my fucking nose.” The other man glares over at me while wiping the blood from his face. The man holding me suppresses a chuckle, while Silas’s deep laugh rumbles through the car without apology.
“And? You’re lucky that’s all I broke. What would you do if you woke up in a car with three strangers? Who the hell are you guys anyway?” I try to get a look at his face, but the lack of light works against me. I’m sure that is part of why they’re taking me somewhere into the countryside of Virginia, if I had to guess.
He’s silent, but Silas speaks up from the front. “That’s Roman. The man on the other side of you is Nick.”
“Well, I would say it’s nice to meet you, but considering the circumstances, it’s not.” All three men laugh even though I didn’t actually mean it as a joke. “Where are you taking me?”
Nick moves me back to my seat in the middle then secures the seat belt around me, pulling it tight across my body until it locks me in place.
“We’re going to a safe house to talk.” Silas is being especially tight-lipped and more reserved than he was at the gala. I realize that’s my fault. He’s punishing me for running away from him, but he’d do the same if our roles were reversed.
“Is that CIA code for you’re taking me out to a remote field to kill me and dispose of my body?” I did mean that as a joke to lighten the mood in the car, if possible, but there’s no reaction for a few seconds.
“What makes you think we’re CIA?” Maybe Silas doesn’t have a sense of humor after all.
“Because you bend the rules to suit you. Other agencies with three initials don’t do that—they follow the rules to the letter. CIA officers only follow rules that benefit them.”
Nick smiles, and I see a slight nod of his head. He knows what I said is true. I’m not judging since I obviously make decisions on the fly, all depending on the circumstances and pressures I’m under.
The car begins to slow, then Silas makes a right turn onto a long, darkened driveway. The gravel crunches under the weight of the tires as we creep toward the house hidden among the trees. Their idea o
f a safe house is vastly different than the city apartments and homes the GRU has. This location is more like the places we use to question traitors—isolated, secure, and soundproof. This situation doesn’t bode well for me.
When we park, Roman gets out and turns to take my arm. Rather than exiting on the opposite side, Nick moves across the seat toward me, keeping me securely between the two of them. There’s no way I can outrun all three of these men anyway—even if I knew where I was and which way to run. Once we’re all out of the car, Silas walks behind us as Nick and Roman walk beside me, each gripping my arms until we’re inside the house and the door is locked behind us.
The entryway opens directly into a large living room to the left and dining room to the right. After seeing the modern floor plan and comfortable furnishings, I now realize this house is newer than I initially thought. The unpaved driveway conjured images of an older dwelling—one other people wouldn’t often visit.
“Have a seat.” Silas walks through the dining room into the kitchen, and I sit on the plush leather sofa. While he’s in the other room, I take the opportunity to glance around the fully decorated home. If this is a place for torture, they don’t leave any evidence of it behind. “Here. This will wet your whistle and help you talk all night if needed.”
He extends his hand to offer a bottle of cold water, so I take it from him and twist the cap, noting that it hasn’t been opened before now. No unknown additives to help loosen my tongue. With his other hand, he swings a chair around to sit directly in front of me, our knees touching from the close quarters. Nick and Roman remain standing, guarding the exits with their large frames. I cut my gaze between the two men before rolling my eyes at them.
“You two can sit down. I won’t try to run as long as we’re only talking. But I’m not getting on an airplane. The only way I’m going back is if you shoot me and send me back in a casket.”
They ignore me and maintain their vigilant stance instead.
“What were you looking for in the senator’s office?” Silas pulls my attention back to him.
He’s such a handsome man, still in his tuxedo, but now without the bow tie. The top couple buttons of his crisp white shirt are undone, hinting at his finely tuned body underneath. He stands a full head and shoulders taller than me, with a fully muscled frame perfectly proportionate to his height. I’ve caught glimpses of the different facets of his personality. His suave and debonair side and his playful nature.
But right now, he’s in all-business mode, impatiently waiting for me to explain my actions. This man is very different from the one I danced with just a short time ago. That man was warm and inviting, but the man sitting in front of me is cold and calculating. There is no line he wouldn’t cross to neutralize a threat.
What he doesn’t understand is how volatile the bomb I’m about to drop in his lap is. He doesn’t realize that in order to defend the country he loves, he’ll have to cross the line he never thought he’d have to face. He’ll have to betray his country in order to save it.
My silence stretches a little too long, and his patience is wearing a bit too thin. He leans forward, puts his forearms on his knees, and pierces me with his deep blue eyes. I’ve noticed they change with his mood. When he’s friendly and accommodating, they’re a warm, inviting shade of blue. Malleable and friendly, they draw others in on the premise of trust, honor, and duty. When he goes into interrogation mode, like now, the warmth completely disappears, replaced by an iciness that chills me to the bone. I have no doubt this man is a trained killer and has no misgivings about using his unique skills.
“We’re doing this the easy way at the moment, Kira. But this is the last time I will ask nicely. You think you’ve pegged CIA officers so well. So, believe me when I say this. If I don’t get a complete and honest answer right now, you’ll find out firsthand exactly what I’m capable of doing in order to protect and serve my country. I know what you are and why you’re here. You’ve been here illegally, silently observing but not actively conspiring against us. Until tonight. Now that you’ve stepped up your game, I want to know why—what prompted the change in your behavior. And you will tell me everything.”
I’d like to have the warm and flirty Silas back now. But he’s long gone, and I’m afraid he won’t be back anytime soon.
“My sister and I were brought here against our will twenty years ago. We were only ten years old when we were ripped from our mother’s arms, Silas. You say you know her? Then you know she doesn’t exactly wear her heart on her sleeve when it comes to showing her emotions. So imagine seeing her have a complete breakdown, right in front of you, while men you don’t know, have never even seen before, drag you away from the only home you’ve ever had. All they would tell us was that we’d have a new family soon and to forget about our old one if we knew what was good for us.
“We grew up here in America, taking English lessons until we were fluent, and all traces of our Russian accents were gone. We went to school here, just like every other American teenager. But we had extra lessons after school—learning fighting skills, staying up-to-date on the latest technology advancements, and training how to get in and out of buildings undetected. We didn’t know what we were being prepared to do throughout our teenage years, only that we had to keep everything a secret from everyone else. We were one person by day and a completely different person at night. Then we turned eighteen and were forced into this life—no questions of what we wanted to do with our lives, no options to go off to college somewhere, and no mention of our future. Nothing we’ve done since we were ten has been our choice. You have to believe me.”
I’m fully aware all my blurted confession is entirely off topic, even though he already warned me about not answering his direct questions. But this is all information he needs to know, nevertheless. I need him to understand what occurred in the past, so the path we should take in the present and the future is crystal clear.
“That’s a very touching story. I’m perplexed, though, because you told me everything except what I asked.” With a menacing expression covering his face, he starts rolling up his sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms.
“I’m trying to tell you everything—so you’ll get the big picture and understand what’s happening. Just give me a chance to explain.”
“By all means, continue.” He waves his hand in front of him, but the skepticism in his voice is loud and clear.
“There are more people like Mira and me planted here, waiting to be activated. They’ve been here for years, working in every walk of life, rising to the top of corporate ladders, or just hosting new recruits in their homes. They’re also in the government, from a secretary in the FBI to a staffer in a congressman’s office…maybe even a senator himself. They’re doing their jobs normally and living their daily lives until they hear from their mentor. Then they cross that line and become a spy again.”
“Are you saying the senator whose office you broke into is a Russian asset?” His expression matches his voice, wholly skeptical and ready to toss me into a cell then forget I exist.
“I don’t know what his exact capacity is, but I do know he’s important to whatever the current project is. He has ties to the Academy and the GRU somehow. That’s part of why I had to get into his computer—to find out what he’s doing and why.”
“The Academy?”
“The training center that runs all of our operations.”
“How do they do that—get your orders to you? What’s their process?”
“They send the encrypted orders to our handlers, but never directly to the operative, and no one here has all the information about any single op. The information is divided up between several players, only giving each person the information about their specific job. There’s also always at least one layer of contact between everyone—the GRU and us, and between the activated operatives.”
“How do you know the senator is involved?” Silas’s expression doesn’t change, but something in the air around us makes
me think he’s starting to believe me. The twenty-questions game is a one-way street, and I understand why, but we’re wasting valuable time.
“Have you ever heard pieces of different conversations, picked up on various tidbits of information, then put them all together, and they made a perfectly clear picture?”
He nods without verbally confirming, but at least he’s giving me that much.
“That’s exactly what I’ve done. You probably expect me to point to one specific detail or give you one concrete shred of evidence to prove it. I can’t do that without going through everything on that flash drive.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening. Do you think I’m gullible? Do you really think I’d just hand that over so you can memorize every top-secret detail in there and pass them on to your superiors? Try again. That’s almost more of an insult than your stealing from my country. You really think I’m that stupid?”
“What? No, I don’t think you’re stupid at all. I don’t want to give that information to my superiors—I wanted to use it to save my sister! I was going to change the documents before handing the flash drive off to them at our drop site Wednesday morning. They told me my sister was sitting in a prison cell at a black site because of me, Silas. They said she was being tortured and would eventually be killed—all because they thought she was me when she was caught. I’ve only continued working with them to get close to the senator. They said they’d find a way to get Mira out if I did this, even if it meant they had to do a prisoner exchange.”
BLURRED LINE Page 4