In Chaos (Undercover Book 3)

by Adalind White

  “I could kill you,” he said.

  Could. Not should. That was encouraging, but I didn’t dare to relax.

  “You always could,” I said. “The fact that you didn’t, makes me want you to say yes.”

  “I’m afraid,” he whispered.

  My legs failed and I fell on my knees in front of him.

  “I’m afraid, too,” I said, looking up into his eyes.

  He disentangled his hand from my hair. I didn’t make a move to stop him unfastening the clasp of the metal ring strapped over his right wrist. I didn’t try to stop him undoing the buckles of the leather straps that bound his ankles to the throne.

  “I’ll come with you,” he said and held out his right hand to me.

  I took it without hesitation and we stood up together.

  Chapter 21. Skye – Flight

  I would never know how I held it together on the ride to the airport. I doubted that Viktor or Nick knew how to cut the mansion from the grid, but they sure as hell knew how to blow it up.

  The mansion exploded when we took off. I felt sorry for all the beautiful things in that house, but Aleksei didn’t even flinch. I turned my head and watched it burn.

  Viktor drove Formula 1 style. Nick sat silently in the front seat, and Aleksei behind him. They showed him trust by allowing him to sit behind them, but there was no point in sitting Aleksei behind the driver. If he went nuts, he could only try to strangle Nick, and we wouldn’t drive off the road to our deaths.

  After my privileged life of the past few months, I found the private plane lacking the comfort I came to expect.

  A few hours earlier, on route from his hotel to Aleksei’s house, Nick had given me a crash course in the effects of the Spice. Now that I wasn’t in any immediate danger, I realized that some things didn’t add up satisfactorily.

  I went to the back of the plane and sat across from Aleksei. The plane was fairly small, but the noise of the engine offered us privacy.

  “Why did you feed me Spice since I moved in?” I asked. “You didn’t know I was an agent.”

  My heart twisted when he looked at me with such unguarded yearning.

  “I wanted you to forget everyone you ever knew before me,” he answered earnestly, like a man who had nothing to lose anymore.

  “There was Spice in the tea, right?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he confirmed.

  “I had at least a cup of tea every day for four weeks,” I said. “How come I still remember who I am?”

  He shrugged.

  “Tell me,” I said. “Please.”

  He reached out and cupped my cheek tenderly. I didn’t pull away but I didn’t lean into the touch. He removed his hand before speaking again.

  “The second box,” he said. “That was clean.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged again. I sat down next to him and waited for an answer. He puffed out a breath of irritation.

  “I needed to know,” he said.

  “Know what?” I asked gently.

  “If you would leave. Betray me. If you really…”

  “Cared,” I finished his sentence when his voice trailed off. “If I really cared about you.”

  “I’m a fool.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I care about you. I’ll never know if I’d feel the same if it hadn’t been for the Spice at first. But I care about you.”

  He obstinately looked at the floor.

  “Look at me please,” I said, and waited for that glacial stare. “Even after the explosion, the bunker is probably intact.”

  He flinched, but held my gaze.

  “People will assume I was your sex slave,” I said. “Let them believe it. They will probably try to use it against you, to give you a bad deal on the grounds that you tortured me, and held me captive.”

  “But—”

  “My brother is a lawyer,” I interrupted him. “I will get him to negotiate your deal so you don’t ever have to say anything about it. All the people who ever read the mission files, will believe I was the one in chains.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because you trusted me,” I said.

  On impulse, I pressed my lips on his forehead.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” I said, and meant it.

  Chapter 22. Nick – With You

  As soon as we were on US soil, Petrov called Stone and Skye called her brother. For the next three hours, we drove in silent tension to the safehouse. Stepanov looked out the window the whole time. Nothing flittered on his stone face to clue me in about his emotions. Did he finally feel free or did he expect to never be free again? Skye had offered him freedom from his old life. Could she keep her word against the interests of the Agency?

  At the safehouse, Stone was waiting for us accompanied by two agents from the Russia division who took charge of Aleksei Stepanov immediately. I had met the younger one, Henderson, last week, when I negotiated the terms of my mission with their department. He was the taller of the pair, but he was a head shorter than the Russian. When he moved to handcuff Stepanov, Skye took a step toward him.

  “He has a lawyer,” Skye told them, then looked directly at the shorter guy. “You got that, Fleming?”

  Fleming glared at her without concealing his disgust. His brown eyes glinted on his round face, now flushed with anger.

  “Aren’t you in enough trouble already?” he asked.

  Everyone in the room heard the menace in his voice, but only Aleksei reacted. He jerked his manacled hands out of Henderson’s grasp. If looks could kill, Fleming would be a pile of flaming ashes.

  “Yeah,” Skye said, with a grin that should’ve sent the older agent running if he knew her better. “So, what do I have left to lose?”

  “How about your own freedom?” the older man shot back.

  Skye’s hand rested on Aleskei’s arm before Fleming finished spewing his threat, anticipating his reaction. It was a light touch, but the chained monster relaxed. I hadn’t been jealous of him until that moment, when the monster reacted exactly like I would have. He relaxed because he trusted her. He trusted her not to betray him, just like I was sure that Skye would die before betraying me. With Spice and other techniques, he had earned her trust, maybe even her heart.

  It’s not trust, I told myself. Or love. It’s Stockholm syndrome and Spice fog.

  “Just remember that he’s here of his own free will,” Skye said, matching Fleming’s menacing tone. “If you think I’m bad, you wait and see what my brother will do if you trample his rights.”

  Fleming scowled at her, but swallowed whatever insult was on the tip of his tongue.

  “No rights will be trampled,” Stone said, looking from Skye to Fleming and Henderson, and both men nodded without enthusiasm.

  Petrov’s phone buzzed. “His lawyer’s plane has just landed,” he said, while texting a reply to what clearly was a message from Jack Inigo Walker. “He’ll meet us downtown.”

  “Let’s go,” Stone said.

  Stone got in the car with me and Petrov, while Skye followed Stepanov. Henderson opened the door for his prisoner, and climbed in next to him. Not allowing Skye to sit next to the Russian made it clear that they didn’t trust either of them. That came as no surprise to anyone.

  She looked at me before getting in the front seat next to Fleming. I met her eyes without holding back. She saw my relief to know her safe. She saw my love for her. She took a deep breath and her eyelids drooped. It only lasted for a moment, but it was the first time she relaxed since I saw her at the opera. When she opened her eyes again, she schooled her features in the dauntless Agent Walker persona, and got in the car.

  That was the last I saw of Skye until today, when Stone had called to tell me I can pick her up. In the week in which they interrogated, tested and analyzed her, I did everything I could to get her transferred to us. It was a temporary solution, which didn’t save her from all the administrative pain they were go
ing to inflict on her, but it was the best I could do. They didn’t trust her. They feared she was compromised and the gift she brought was a Trojan horse. On a more personal level, they were punishing her for surviving after Szeleky was killed.

  I got demoted, but not fired me because they needed me too much to work with people affected by the Spice. Skye got suspended pending inquiry, psychological evaluation and a long probation. Viktor Petrov got threatened with expulsion from the USA, but eventually was let off with a stern warning. I knew these things from Jack Walker, who spent his days negotiating the terms of Stepanov’s new life, and his nights sleeping on my couch.

  Jack hoped that his sister would choose to go back to LAPD, from where she’d been on loan all these years. I hoped that she’d recover enough to at least consider going back to active duty. Most agents affected by the Spice never did.

  Aleksei Stepanov was given a new identity. In Russia, they buried in the Stepanov family crypt the remains of Ignatiev’s burnt corpse which we had dumped in the house before blowing it up. I had smashed his skull beyond the possibility of matching dental records. The explosion and the subsequent fire had done the rest.

  The Stepanovs killed a dozen business rivals in a public display of retaliation for Aleksei’s death. Privately, everyone believed he had killed himself and set the house on fire. This was an oddly happy ending to Prince Aleksei’s story. More accurately, it was a happy transition. If he was smart, Aleksei’s new life was just beginning.

  I smiled as I texted back and forth with Shania and Alan while I waited. My apprentices were happy to have access to Skye while she recovered. I was happy I could offer her the chance to practice skills in the safety or our training center. It would of great help in her recovery. Skye’s career had taken a dramatic nose dive and so did mine, but I could barely contain my joy. She was back. She was safe. And if she still wanted my heart, I was going to lay it at her feet.

  She sashayed over to me like she was on a catwalk. I stood up, as soon as I saw her.

  “Hi,” Skye said. “Ready?”

  “The car’s outside. Do you want to drive?”

  She scrunched up her face and shook her head, reminding me of the time she pretended to be my daughter. Without the dramatic makeup, she looked like her old self, despite her still black hair. Her blonde roots had already grown half an inch. I loved seeing her return to herself. It wouldn’t be easy, and I wouldn’t be the one working on her recovery, but I was confident she was going to be all right.

  She got in my car without asking where we were going. Knowing me as well as I knew her, she must have guessed there was only one place where I’d take her now. At home.

  She fell asleep while I was telling her how happy Shania and Alan were that she’d work with us for a while. I slowed down to make the ride smoother.

  I didn’t need to look over the reports of her interrogations to figure out that she had been kept awake for hours, taken to the limit of her endurance. Maybe beyond it. You didn’t need to hit someone to damage them physically or to destabilize them mentally. Jack had sat in when they interrogated his client, but Skye was an agent and she had no one in her corner when they worked her over. I hated how well I understood why they treated her like this. If she truly was compromised, she would be a serious security risk. There was no place for fuzzy feelings when it came to that.

  She slept all the way to my apartment in Chantilly, and I snuck glances at her, almost not daring to believe that she was there, snoozing peacefully next to me.

  “We’re here, baby,” I said softly after I parked the car.

  “Mmmm?” she murmured with her eyes closed.

  I stroked her raven hair, brushing away errant strands off her face. She lifted her head to feel more of my hand. My fingers slid in her hair, and a smile blossomed on her lips. I would gladly sit there to watch her sleep, but she’d be more comfortable sleeping in a bed.

  “Let’s go inside,” I whispered.

  She sighed deeply and made an effort to open her eyes. “I’m so tired.”

  “I know, baby. You’ll go back to sleep in no time.”

  Her features softened, but I saw the glint of pain in her eyes. Her next words didn’t surprise me.

  “I love it when you call me baby,” she said. I waited for what I suspected would come. “And I love you. But I don’t know if I can go back to what we had.”

  “I love you, too. I’m not asking anything.”

  She nodded slowly, understanding that we had time to figure things out. For me, it was enough that she wanted me back. I had the patience to wait for her to come out of the shadows and the skill to help her find her way out of chaos. She rubbed her eyes, as if she could banish the sleepiness.

  “You need to keep to yourself anything I tell you about Aleksei, okay?” she said, looking at me with red-rimmed eyes.

  “You don’t have to tell me. But if you want to, I promise it stays our secret.”

  Part of me didn’t want to know. Another part was desperate to find out what I had to fight against.

  “I never had sex with him.” She looked down at her hands, as if she didn’t recognize them. I was all too familiar with the gesture from other agents who were coming out of the fog. “We never even kissed. I’m not going to tell you anything more. I don’t want to betray his trust.”

  She paused for a long time and then she looked at me with haunted eyes. This, too, was a familiar sight. I had seen that look at all the agents affected by the Spice when they tried to sort out between what was real and what wasn’t.

  “Viktor was right,” she said. “Aleksei is the kind of monster we hunt. I don’t have any illusions about that. But he kept me alive when he didn’t have to.”

  My hand twitched as I fought the urge to touch her. I wanted to hug her and tell her everything was fine. It would be a lie. She wasn’t fine and she might not be for a while.

  “I can’t trust my mind and it scares me,” she said, and turned around to open the door.

  She got out her seat with difficulty. By the time I got to her side, she was leaning against the car.

  “You’re exhausted,” I said, trailing my fingers along her jaw. “Would you mind if I carried you?”

  Her nod was a testament of how deeply she was drained. When I picked her up, I shuddered to notice how light she was. It wasn’t the first time I carried her in my arms and my physical condition hadn’t improved in the meantime. This was yet another confirmation of how badly this mission had affected her.

  #

  The peak of the shitstorm lasted for two weeks, then things seemed to calm down at work. Skye’s deprogramming was going well. We moved in together again without talking about it. Every day, we took on the challenges that came with rebuilding our relationship.

  The first time we made love in my single bed, it was slow, almost awkward and forged an uncomfortable level of intimacy between us. I could feel her wanting to leave when it was over.

  “Why do you not have a normal, grown-up bed?” Skye asked, tossing and turning to find enough space next to me.

  “Never expected I’d have to share it with anyone.”

  The truth had slipped out. I didn’t want her to feel sorry for having left me. I didn’t want her to pity me for my inability to get over her. She froze for a moment. Then she hugged me, with a desperation which reminded me of the way she clung to me after a particularly dark scene.

  “I’ll take the couch tonight,” she said.

  She chose to sleep on the couch most nights, even when I offered to leave her the bed. I wondered how often was she tempted to walk out on me. She wouldn’t be the first agent to leave their family after this experience.

  Twenty-two days after our night in St. Petersburg, at breakfast, she mentioned we should go shopping for a king size bed. I barely managed to conceal my joy. That was the first sign I had that she was completely back. When I left for work that morning, I knew that we could revisit the co
nversation we had before she left me. She had a long way to full recovery, but she was ready.

  These days, I never stayed late at work unless a crisis demanded my presence. Knowing that Skye waited for me to come back was all the motivation I needed to get home as soon as possible.

  But there were days, like today, when I had to stay at work late into the night. When I finally got home, I found Skye asleep on the couch, while the TV droned on. She opened an eye when I came in, smiled and waved at me then curled up even more. I knelt on the floor next to the couch.

  “Skye,” I said.

  She stirred at the sound of my voice, but didn’t open her eyes. She patted blindly until her hand found mine.

  “I want you back,” I whispered, holding her hand.

  Maybe she was asleep. This could be like practicing a speech in front of the mirror. Even if she didn’t hear me now, I would ask her again. It took me four years and nearly losing her to be sure that I wanted to take a chance on having a family with her. This world needed more people like her, and I wanted to help her make them.

  “Okay,” she said with her eyes closed.

  “I want the whole thing,” I said. “You. Marriage. Kids.”

  She opened her eyes at that.

  “It’s okay, Nick,” she said, yawning. “I’m back. You don’t have to say—”

  “No,” I interrupted her. “I’m not just saying it. I do want everything. With you.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, sitting up on the couch, her eyes trained on me with that cop intensity I loved.

  “Yes,” I confirmed, and watched her work things out in her head.

  The cornerstone of our relationship was honesty. It saw us through the initial stages and through our darker moments. She believed me when I said I wanted now what I had refused then. She was wondering if this was a kneejerk reaction to nearly losing her. I tried to stop studying her like she was one of my subjects. Fortunately, I was very bad at that, and I caught the darkening in her eyes. Something bad had occurred to her. She had read something in my change of heart that distressed her.