by Geri Krotow
“Was weapons training part of your criminal justice program?”
“No, but I made it so. I spent a lot of time at the firing range on the other side of the river. I couldn’t do it at the range near our home, near the Appalachian Trail. That’s where Vadim and his thugs went to have a good time. They’d brag about all the weapons they’d fired, and thought I had no clue what they were talking about. But I’d fired the same guns and rifles, learned everything I could about each weapon’s capabilities.”
“Vadim had weapons in the house.” He’d read the intelligence reports, knew the arsenal the man had.
“Sure, in a safe that he never told me the combo to. He wasn’t stupid—he must have known on some level that if I had access to his weapons I’d try to kill him for what he’d done to me.”
“That had to be hard.”
“It wasn’t easy. But it made me who I am.”
* * *
Luther could listen to Kit’s sultry voice all day, stay inside this tiny cabin with her and never leave. She didn’t behave like any other woman he’d ever met. Of course, she was unique, having survived an arranged, human trafficking marriage to an organized crime leader.
“I admire how well you seem to have overcome what you’ve been through.”
“There’s nothing to admire when you understand that I’m lucky to be alive. Vadim would have taken me down with him, but more than him, his son would have killed me if either of them found out I was working with SVPD and then TH to bring Vadim in.”
“His son, who may have been the shooter at your apartment.” Luther vaguely recalled that Vadim’s son had been mentioned in the reports, but he’d focused on the human trafficking ops that Vadim had facilitated, and how TH and SVPD had interfered to end the evil cycle of abuse through Silver Valley.
“Yes, Mishka. He’s about forty years old now, and always saw himself as some kind of heartthrob. Mishka never made it a secret that he was interested in being more than my stepson.”
“Did he ever—” It was hard enough to know Vadim had abused her for years, but to think that his son had, too, made Luther want to knock their heads together. Hard.
She shrugged as if they were discussing hunting season. “He tried, a few times, when Vadim was at work, or passed out drunk. All I had to do was remind him of the security cameras Vadim had throughout the entire house and he backed off.” A flicker of vulnerability crossed her expression and he had what he thought of as operational insight.
“Mishka should be in jail, too.”
She nodded. “Yes, but Vadim made sure that wouldn’t happen. Someone had to be on the outside to watch the pawnshop and keep things going.”
“They didn’t shut down the shop?”
“At first, yes, the prosecutors put a halt to all financial dealings in Vadim’s name, and some in Mishka’s, too. But ROC has a lot of money and slick lawyers. The pawnshop and all of its accounts were actually in Mishka’s name, a smart business move on Vadim’s part. When Mishka didn’t get indicted, his lawyers fought to get the pawnshop in the clear and running again.”
Anger tossed around in his gut. “You’re sure Mishka hasn’t approached you more recently, besides in the diner?” Colt had told him about Kit seeing Mishka in the diner. He didn’t want to scare her by bringing it up, but he’d been with her in her apartment, seen the flash of fear in her eyes and how she’d gone rigid after the shooter tried to take him out.
She shook her head. “No. I honestly think he didn’t know where I went for a long while. I changed my last name and have kept a really low profile.”
“Why didn’t you consider witness protection?”
“I did, for a second. But I can’t do that, because I’d never see my parents again. They’re safe and enjoying life in New Jersey, closer to the city. It wasn’t necessary to go into hiding, in the end. Vadim wasn’t ever high-level ROC. While he provided a huge boon to their human trafficking racket, it was only a portion of their profits. Once heroin hit the market, it became their focus.”
“ROC is known for revenge killings.” He couldn’t, wouldn’t ignore the protective feelings he had toward her. ROC played for keeps.
“They’re not interested in coming after me. I’m too low on their food chain. I’m not even on it, as I never participated in Vadim’s dirty business.” A shudder ran over her, moving her shoulders and rib cage. His arms ached to pull her to his chest, to comfort her.
Yeah, right. That’s what his erection wanted, to comfort her. He mentally cleared his mind of visions of her naked. It wasn’t fair to either of them, not with this op, and not now that he’d heard how rough she’d had it. A man wasn’t someone she needed, it sounded like.
“I was afraid that the shooter might be Mishka, and I told Claudia we need to be watching him. I’ve seen him here and there, in downtown Silver Valley, over the last few months. I hadn’t seen him until recently, so all I can figure is that either I’m more relaxed about my comings and goings, or he’s found out where I live but is afraid to approach me because he knows I work for SVPD.”
“It’s probably a little bit of both.” He had to let his logic take over his thoughts or he’d pack Kit up in the Jeep and head for the hills—anywhere but these hills, this mountain. The sudden streak of protectiveness stunned him as much as Kit’s composure as she opened the door to her past torture.
“Yes. Mishka’s an arrogant, spoiled, entitled brat at heart. He’s never been told no by Vadim, and when he couldn’t get what he wanted from me, he pouted. He’s still got his lower lip jutting out because I refused his advances, not just when Vadim was my husband, but after. He told me to come see him at the shop as soon as the divorce was final.”
“When did he do that?”
“He came up to me and my lawyer as I left the courtroom, right after I’d testified against Vadim.” She looked at the window over his shoulder and squinted. “Huh. It’s snowing. Kind of early for winter in Central Pennsylvania.”
He followed her gaze and watched huge, fat flakes swirl in the daylight. “It’s supposed to get cold, but the snow should be gone by tomorrow.”
“They don’t know what’s coming next with the weather around here.” She grabbed her camo jacket and shoved into it. “I adore snow, and I need a break from this tiny place. With or without you.” She tugged a knit cap onto her head and the dark olive color emphasized her eyes. He swallowed, knowing that if they were just a man and a woman on their way for a snowy walk, he’d be tempted to kiss her.
You’re already beyond tempted, man. Okay, so he’d be kissing her if she weren’t a colleague.
Not true. You’ve enjoyed time with a colleague or two.
He had, when out in the field for months on end. It had always been a mutual release of sexual tension, with no strings attached.
Kit was a ball of twine, the epitome of entanglement.
You’re not the man to make it better for her. Who was he to think she needed a man, namely him, in her life?
“I’ll be waiting. Take your time.” Kit went out the door, and he gave himself the time it took to put his outerwear on and to shake out of the hormone haze he’d been in the last several hours. Kit was an attractive woman, and her wry sense of humor matched his—not something that happened often. She’d be the perfect person to develop a relationship with, if... If he wasn’t an undercover agent who never knew where he’d be from one week to the next. If she wasn’t the survivor of an abusive marriage and human trafficking. He didn’t know Kit very well, but he knew enough.
Kit needed a man who’d be there for her through thick and thin. He wasn’t that guy.
You want to be.
He zipped up his jacket and reached for the cabin door. Now came the tough part—following through on what he’d decided, ignoring the constant thrum of tension between him and Kit. And his unexpected attraction to the woman who’d surv
ived a life that had been a death sentence for so many others.
* * *
“You really don’t have to be my babysitter. I hike the Appalachian Trail—the AT—all the time on my own.” She stayed several strides ahead of Luther, more for her own sanity than to show him that she was in great shape. Nothing she was boastful about, but Kit took her physical fitness seriously. Strength and being capable of handling herself in stressful situations was part of her PTSD therapy.
Luther had stayed close behind her the entire hike. They made it to the top of a rise that gave them a sweeping view of Cumberland Valley, and she couldn’t ignore the warmth from his body heat through both of their quilted down hunting jackets, even at several inches apart. At this point she was so turned on by him she didn’t know if it really was his body heat she felt or her own need.
“Your sexual awareness will awaken when you least expect it.”
Kit ground her teeth, wishing she were alone so she could scream out in frustration.
“This is stunning.” Luther looked at the valley below as if he’d never been anywhere as beautiful as Cumberland Valley. The frosty cloud of his breath parted the snowflakes, and his chest rose and fell in a mesmerizing rhythm. His ski cap covered most of his wavy brown hair, save for a few locks at his nape. Most of the TH and SVPD agents she’d worked with sported military cuts.
“Is your hair long because you’ve been undercover recently?”
His eyes were steely in the dim light, and snowflakes clung to his crazy long eyelashes. Why was it that men were awarded with what she’d paid good money to get at the local salon?
“I’m rarely not undercover, in a sense. Especially the last couple of years.”
“ROC?” Colt had said as much, but maybe Luther had done other work.
He didn’t answer right away, and his full lips looked ridiculously soft amidst his day-old stubble. Did he affect that look for their hunting cover or was it his regular grooming standard?
When his mouth curved, she forced her gaze back to his. Amusement folded the lines at the edges of his eyes like the accordion her Uncle Slava used to play at family gatherings. An ache that she’d only ever associated with being homesick welled up, and she fought to stay in the present, to not allow her melancholy to rule her life as it once had.
“Yes, mostly ROC. Exclusively for the last two years.” He looked away, and she fought to keep her hands from reaching for his face, forcing his attention back on her.
But the tension between them was nothing less than excruciating. Did she really want that back, want to be in the whirlwind of emotions that he stirred?
Yes.
She forced her gaze back to the valley, which, through the snow, looked like a gently smudged version of itself. If she followed Luther’s lead, she’d get through this. He didn’t appear to have anything tugging at his instincts other than tracking down Ivanov and Markova. Luther knew how to stay on point.
“So many agents have done the same, sacrificed too much.” She thought of the dozens she’d met and worked with in only the past couple of years. “I can’t wait to see ROC completely dismantled.”
“Do you believe it will ever be wiped out? We both know how far and wide their web is, as you mentioned.”
“I’m Ukrainian. Was. For a long time, I couldn’t imagine life without the constant threat of ROC. Now that I’m American, by choice, I have hope we’ll finish this op and wipe them out. It’s a matter of time.”
“You weren’t brought here by your own will.” He’d decided to ask now, to dig deeper. Fair enough. She had nothing to hide from him. And curiously, Kit wanted Luther to understand her better.
“That’s not true, about being forced to the States. At first, I did come here on my own. I signed up for an au pair training course.”
“Your parents agreed to it, when you were underage?”
“Spoken like an American. Even with all of your ROC experience and knowledge, you don’t get how clever they can be. The course was supposedly a two-year affair. We attended workshops on Sundays for three hours each. At the end of two years we’d be certified to be au pairs either in the UK or North America.” The wind picked up and she wiped snow off her face. “My parents thought it might be a wonderful opportunity for me. I learned German and English in school and already knew Russian and of course Ukrainian.”
“When did it go wrong?” He spoke quietly, as though he knew it was tender ground.
“The second month. Looking back, I know that they ‘sorted’ us all that first Sunday. Figured out who would go where and when. I was one of the luckiest girls—I got to come here sooner!” She heard the sarcasm in her voice and pulled back. “Sorry. It’s not a time I really enjoy discussing.”
“Then don’t.” His hand grasped hers, and her fingers automatically curled around his. Through the layers of his leather and her knit gloves there was an indisputable sense of security. Like she’d been waiting for this kind of closeness with another human being forever. “Let’s keep walking. We have about another two hours of daylight.”
This time she followed him, winding through the tall pines, climbing over the multitude of rock outcroppings that were ubiquitous in Pennsylvania. She figured Luther to be maybe eight years older than her, tops. Yet he was as agile as a man younger than her.
“How old are you, Luther?”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “Thirty-one. Why? How old are you?” He was younger, closer in age to her, than she’d thought.
“Twenty-six. But I feel like I’m one hundred.”
“That’s fair. You don’t look much older than twenty-seven.”
She stared at him, shocked that he was actually making a joke at her expense. Laughter escaped her, and she let go of the ugliness of their earlier conversation and the memories it scraped up. “I have enough life experience to satisfy an old woman, that’s for sure.”
“Ah, but Kit, you forget the gift from your sufferings.” He was serious again, and he backtracked the few feet to stand in front of her, no more than a foot between them.
“Gift?” Was he about to tell her she was strong, a survivor? Because she’d heard it all during her therapy and group sessions. And yes, she knew she’d had to dig deep to get through it all. Especially toward the end of her marriage, when she’d played both sides. She’d given TH and SVPD what they needed in order to capture Vadim and his cohorts and free the women he’d most recently been involved with trafficking. At the same time she’d pretended to be happy with Vadim, as if nothing was amiss. Other than the usual sense of foreboding, knowing that with his next binge he’d put his hands on her again, beat her, threaten to kill her.
Vadim had been a mean, mean drunk.
“Stay here with me, Kit. In the now.” His gaze was intent on her. “I’m sorry I asked about your past—I didn’t mean to stir it all up or upset you.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s fair for you to want to know more about the person you’re working with. Especially on such a critical op.”
“So let me tell you what I see in you, Kit. The gift you received.”
She sucked in a breath and was surprised that her lungs shuddered as she did so. As if what Luther was about to say was going to make all the difference in her life.
“What, Luther?”
“You know who you are. No one is going to tell you what you want, where you want to go. Some people go their entire life and never figure that out.”
His words touched a chord she’d left protected, hidden under layers of her heart’s scar tissue. She blinked against the swell of tears, hoping he’d think it was from the snow.
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “I think I wouldn’t complain if I hadn’t had to figure out who I am so soon, if ever.”
Luther regarded her with a look that she could only interpret as honest. Not pitying, not pat
ronizing, nor detached. He’d listened to her, heard between the words she’d spoken. Had he ever thought about becoming a therapist?
“I know. And if I could change what you’d been through, I would do it in a heartbeat.” He’d taken a half step closer, or maybe she had. Gloved fingers wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t know a whole heck of a lot, Kit, but I’ve come to understand that while I can’t change most of the world’s ills, if I get a chance to make a difference for one person or one community, it’s worth it. You’re doing that—you’ve channeled what happened to you into a career of service.”
“Did I have a choice?” Her voice fell to a whisper. Standing this close to a man who read her better than anyone else ever had, after only knowing him for forty-eight hours, seemed like more than a work assignment to her.
It felt like fate. When Luther placed his forehead to hers, their breath intermingling, she didn’t resist.
“I’ve been through my own hell, too, Kit. Nothing like what you’ve faced, but I’ve seen things most people would never imagine. It can be lonely in that place of dealing with your own reality.”
“Yes.” She sighed out her response and her body swayed toward him. Tired of fighting her desires, she placed her gloved hands on either side of his face and forced him to look into her eyes. “Thank you for letting me know I’m not alone, Luther.”
His answer was immediate and not of the verbal variety. When his lips touched hers, she was still looking into his eyes and saw something deeper than curiosity or commiseration. Before she could figure out what it was, his lids lowered and she followed suit.