Out of Time

by Monica McCarty

  His mouth fell in a hard line. That was just it. He hadn’t really known her. She’d confounded him from the start.

  When she’d introduced herself as an “assistant” that first night in the bar, he’d assumed she worked for a lobbyist or someone on the Hill—sure as hell not the second-highest-ranking official in the DoD. It was well known in the Pentagon that if you wanted to get Deputy Secretary of Defense Richard Waters to do something, you needed to appeal to his assistant.

  She was known as being smart, a tough negotiator, extremely protective of her boss, and hot as hell. But her cool, confident exterior scared a lot of guys off. She definitely had that Eastern European sexy, but hard “don’t fuck around with me” thing working for her. Ironically, he’d thought she might be Russian or Czech and had asked about it one time. She’d paled, and only now did he realize the significance.

  Given that he usually dated the girl next door, he’d been surprised by that initial attraction. But not by what had come after. He’d never forget the first time he’d looked down at her in bed—when they’d finally made it to the bed—and he’d seen that soft, tousled, well-sated look of a woman who’d been well pleasured.

  Knowing that he’d done that to her. That he’d been the one to make her look like that . . . it was satisfying as hell. It had made him feel powerful—as if he was revealing a different side of her that no one else could see.

  That two-sides-of-the-coin thing had sucked him in. Hard. It was still doing it.

  Scott opened the refrigerator and he had this very fact brought home to him again. He was stunned to see a variety of leftovers that included not only chicken and steak but bacon—a food she’d turned away from every time he’d offered it to her. His herbivore was apparently a hard-core carnivore.

  Was there anything about her that had been real?

  It was hard to believe that the woman he’d shared so much with—whom he’d fallen in love with—had deceived him so completely. Their relationship might have started on the X-rated side, with forty-eight hours of pretty much nonstop sex, but it had never been just about that. Over the next six months every moment that he wasn’t working he’d spent with her, making up every ridiculous excuse in the book to get to DC. He’d been drawn to her in a way that he’d never been drawn to another woman. When they were together, he could put the stress of his job behind him and relax. He’d told her things—personal things—that he’d never shared with anyone else. He’d always been too focused on his job to get serious with anyone.

  How the hell could he have gotten it so wrong?

  He pulled out the plate of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes and sat down at the table to eat. He didn’t bother heating it in the microwave; it looked too damned good. It tasted better.

  Natalya Petrova wasn’t just a spy, she was also a hell of a cook.

  He was so busy devouring the food that he didn’t hear her come up behind him. “Hey. I was going to have that for dinner.”

  He frowned when he saw her. “You should be resting.”

  She was pregnant. Pregnant. It was still hard to accept or know how to react. A few months ago, he would have been shouting from the rooftops. He would have jumped up and pulled out a chair for her and made her put her feet up. Hell, he probably would have swung her into his arms and carried her back to bed. But now . . . now it wasn’t his place. Even if the baby was his, he couldn’t pretend the happy-family thing. He could hate her all over again for what this would do to their baby—if it was his baby.

  She still wore the clothes she’d put on to go to the hospital. A pair of old jeans and a Yankees sweatshirt that belonged in the trash—and not just because it was ratty. He was a dyed-in-the-wool Red Sox fan. Apparently she’d been holding out on him in that arena, too.

  “I couldn’t sleep.” She handed him a piece of paper. “Here.”

  He glanced down at it long enough to see that it was a handwritten list of some kind. “What’s this?”

  “Read it.”

  Reluctantly, he put down the fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and began to read. It didn’t take him long. When he was done, he looked up and met her gaze.

  “That’s it,” she said. “That’s everything I told Mick.”

  He’d figured that much out. But in between things like recommendations regarding the military health system, the budget for special operations in Afghanistan, the results of a review on whether there should be a new chief management officer in the DoD, ways of getting costs down for replacing Air Force One, and various other classified but not overly sensitive information, he saw only a few things that might have interested Russia. But they weren’t anything critical. What was missing was any information to do with technology, defense systems, or operational plans, including Special Forces operations such as Team Nine.

  He put it down and looked up at her. “I think you are missing something.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not. I told you, I didn’t intentionally tell him anything about your mission. I didn’t know anything about your operation until Mick told me.”

  Scott stood up and opened the refrigerator again. He’d been focused on food before, but he’d noticed something else that he figured would help for this conversation. He pulled out a Bud Light, twisted off the cap, took a swig, and sat down. He preferred Coors Light, as most of the guys did on the Teams, but as she’d drunk only wine when they were together before, he couldn’t exactly complain. At least it wasn’t vodka.

  Putting the bottle down in front of him, he leaned back and crossed his arms. “All right. Tell me.”

  Obviously relieved to have her chance to explain, she took a seat opposite him and folded her hands on the table in front of her.

  Her eyes rested on his arms for a moment before turning back to his face. But from the soft pink blush in her cheeks he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, and the knowledge of how his unintentionally flexed arms had turned her on wasn’t without effect.

  Pissed at the heat rushing to his groin, he let his arms drop and flexed his jaw instead. But he’d never been able to control his desire for her. Why should it be any different now?

  “Where should I start?” she asked tentatively.

  “At the beginning.”

  He could tell she was nervous because she reached for the bottle. Not to drink, but to do something with her hands. She fiddled with the label by peeling the edges back with her short nails. Her short, unpolished, and unmanicured nails. It seemed as if everything had been stripped away. From the tips of her fingernails to her fancy clothes and well-made-up facade. The fact that this natural Natalie appealed to him just as much wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

  Scott listened as calmly and open-mindedly as possible, but ready for lies and inconsistencies, as she told him how Mick had targeted her at a bar four years ago and asked her out on a date. She’d been flattered to be singled out by the good-looking hockey player and had agreed, but that had changed the moment Mick picked her up at her apartment and told her what he really wanted from her.

  “I thought he was nuts, but when I realized he wasn’t . . . I refused at first. But he . . . uh, threatened me, and when that didn’t change my mind, he threatened my family.” She told him how Mick had targeted her Russian parents first, but when his proof hadn’t convinced her that they hadn’t died as the orphanage had told her, he’d moved on to her family in Minnesota.

  She paused to look back up at Scott, her eyes bright with fear—as if Mick were threatening them all over again. “He said he’d kill my parents—the only parents I’ve ever known—if I didn’t do what he asked. They are good people, Scott. Whatever you think of me, know that. They brought two troubled children into their home and showered them with love and patience. They gave me happiness, security, and a life I never could have dreamed of in the orphanage.”

  He wanted to ask about the orphanage, but
now was not the time. He suspected that whatever memories she had weren’t good, and he didn’t want to feel sorry for her. He needed to stay cold and objective.

  Was that what he was?

  “He didn’t stop with my parents. He also threatened my sister. He said he would . . .” Her voice fell off as if she couldn’t bear to repeat what he said. When she looked back at him, her eyes had turned dark with anger and a kind of raw hatred that made him almost certain she was telling the truth. Whatever else she’d lied about it wasn’t her family. She loved them with a fierceness that was impossible to deny. “He threatened to rape her and then send her back to Russia to be sold as a sex slave.”

  “And you believed him?”

  A dark emotion crossed her face, and she hardened her jaw. “I did.”

  There was something she wasn’t telling him—something she was holding back.

  “Why?” he asked. “Some strange guy comes to your apartment to recruit you as a spy for a country you haven’t lived in since you were a child, and you just go along with it? You didn’t go to anyone? Confide in anyone—even your parents or sister?”

  He caught the flicker of the shadow in her eyes again before she lashed back at his tone, which was absolute disbelief. “You don’t understand. I knew he would do it, and I couldn’t take that chance. My parents . . . my sister . . . things are difficult for them, and I couldn’t burden them with this. My father’s health isn’t good. But of course I just didn’t jump right into happily committing treason. I only pretended to go along with it at first. I tried to sabotage my job at the Pentagon, but Mick found out about it, and . . .”

  Tears filled her eyes. Her gaze turned imploring, as if she was begging him to believe her.

  “And what?” Scott said evenly, not letting himself be swayed by her obvious despair. But it wasn’t easy.

  Her eyes met his. He could see the stark horror that still lingered there. “He sent me a picture of him with my sister. It was taken back home at the place where she works a few hours a week.”

  Even now, the panic in her voice was still almost visceral. It was hard to remain unmoved. “Did you warn her to stay away from him?”

  “Of course I did,” she snapped. “But you don’t know Lana. She doesn’t understand. She’s sweet and innocent, and she can’t protect herself.”

  He knew there was something she wasn’t saying so he waited. The label was almost completely peeled off by now. “She’s special, okay. Something happened to her in the orphanage, and she will never be able to live a normal life.”

  Natalie wasn’t looking at him as she said it, but from her reticence he sensed that it was true.

  Crap. He hadn’t been expecting that. He felt a wave of compassion but forced it back and steeled his emotions. Maybe he could understand her protectiveness of her family, but that didn’t make what she’d done okay.

  He had to think about her betrayal.

  “At first they didn’t ask for that much,” she continued. “I think they just wanted me in place and were waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “I don’t know. Relations to worsen with Russia? Me to be in a position of authority?” She looked at him. “You.”

  “They had you target me in the bar?”

  It made him sick to think about. Christ, how many guys had she gone back to hotel rooms with to get information?

  Her brows jumped together. “What? No. Our meeting was an accident. What happened wasn’t planned—any of it. I had no idea who you were until I walked into that mission brief at the Pentagon and saw you. Much to my horror, since I knew what it would mean if Mick learned about it. I tried to break it off with you, but somehow Mick found out about you and sent me back to your hotel room. I don’t know how he did it, but it seemed as if he was always one step ahead of me.”

  Scott remembered their argument after the meeting and how adamant she’d been about not seeing him again—and how scared.

  “That’s when everything got worse,” she said.

  He gave her a look, and she blushed. “I didn’t mean in the hotel room, I meant the pressure got worse. It was about the time that Russia shot down our fighter plane and people were screaming for retaliation and war. I tried to string Mick along with insignificant information, but he wanted to know about your missions. He wasn’t happy when you wouldn’t tell me anything. I tried to hide it, but I think Mick guessed how I felt about you and thought I was holding back so he gave me incentive not to lie to him.”

  Scott wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this, but he asked anyway. “What did he do?”

  “He had my father’s insulin switched at the pharmacy with something that would have killed him had he not warned me ahead of time.”

  “So it’s my fault for not telling you anything? That’s your excuse for doing what you did?”

  She gave him a look of pure frustration. “Of course not! I’m just trying to explain to you how it was and how I felt as if I didn’t have any choice. I knew only too well from personal experience that Mick had the morals of an adder, and he showed me how easy it was for him to get to my family. But things were spinning out of control, and I wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer. I think Mick sensed it, too. That was when he came to me with one last ‘request.’ He promised it was the last time. I was so relieved. I thought it was going to finally be over.”

  Scott’s mouth tightened. “The Russia mission.”

  It wasn’t a question but she nodded. “But as I said, I didn’t know about the specifics. Mick said that they’d heard rumors of something big going down. He wanted me to find out what it was, but my boss was keeping me out of the loop. All I was able to find out was that there was a meeting coming up in the Tank”—a slang term for the Joint Chiefs of Staff’s Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility (SCIF) at the Pentagon—“which I typically had security clearance for. But this meeting was different and unusual in that no staff were being admitted.”

  Without the beer bottle label to play with, she started to twist her hands. She was clearly anxious for him to believe her.

  He didn’t know what to think. But he wanted to hear her out first. All of it.

  “So how did you get admitted?” he asked.

  “I didn’t. I was so relieved, thinking that would get me out of it, but I should have known better. Mick gave me a spyware program to download on the deputy secretary’s computer that would enable them to hear everything.” Before Scott could ask, she added, “He claimed it wouldn’t be able to be picked up by the countersurveillance technologies like Tempest that were in place.”

  Scott’s mouth drew in a tight line. “Fine. So you didn’t tell them yourself; you just enabled them to find out. Big fucking difference, Natalya. Treason is treason, and my guys were killed because of it.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d actually been listening to this sob story and feeling sorry for her.

  She flushed angrily. “No. You didn’t let me finish. I loaded the program, but once Mick confirmed that it was working, I deleted it.”

  “Then how did they find out? Maybe you screwed up and thought you removed it.”

  “I removed it,” she said adamantly. “I don’t know how they found out, but it wasn’t through that program. Just to make sure I messed with his Wi-Fi password so it wouldn’t connect in the Tank. I was shocked when Mick bragged about what they’d discovered in the meeting, and that I wouldn’t have to spy on my boyfriend anymore.”

  His face was stony. “You expect me to believe this?”

  She jutted up her chin defiantly. “It’s the truth.”

  She didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  As if she could read his mind, she added, “Why else would I risk everything to try to call off the mission and send you that text?”

  “You tried to call off the mission?”

  “I sent a
n e-mail to my boss before I sent you the text. I warned him that there had been a leak and that people knew about the mission.”

  He lifted a brow. If that was true, she could have been putting her spy-hood in jeopardy. “And what did he say?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Mick intercepted the message—I should have realized they were keeping tabs on me—and informed me that it was too late. That you and the rest of the team had been killed in the explosion. Thank God he didn’t know about the sat phone text. That night he tried to kill me and ended up killing my friend instead, and I ran.” She looked up at him, holding his gaze. “I loved you, Scott. I was out of my mind with grief when Mick told me you were all dead. I never wanted to hurt you. I did everything I could not to betray you, but I was scared and trying to balance two horrible evils. Mick would have done what he promised to my family.” Her gaze hardened. “You didn’t know him like I did.”

  Scott didn’t say anything. He was still trying to take it all in. But once again, he had the feeling he was missing something.

  It was so obvious, he wondered how he didn’t see it at first. He knew why she’d been ready to believe Mick. Personal experience. He leaned forward across the table, his fingers white as they clenched the edge of the table. “What did he do to you?”

  * * *

  • • •

  Natalie clenched her jaw and looked away, avoiding his gaze. But she knew he’d guessed. “Nothing.”

  He reached over and took her chin in his hand, forcing her eyes back to his. “Bullshit. Tell me the truth, Nat. What did he do to you?”

  Nat. Despite the inadvertent use of his nickname, she could hear the simmering rage in his voice and something about it set her teeth on edge. What right did he have to be angry? Didn’t he despise her now? She was the one who’d been raped. This was about her, not about him. He didn’t get to sweep in and be the protector when it was convenient. Nor was she going to have him feeling sorry for her. She wasn’t damaged or vulnerable or in need of his man-outrage.