Broken Together

by K. S. Ruff

  * * * * *

  I twisted the strand of pearls Rafael had given me. The black dress suit with the white silk camisole and pencil skirt fit my mood perfectly. I was dreading the meeting with Senator Rockefeller, in part because I finally grasped the consequences in terms of human lives. If we chose not to fund the pipeline, it would prove difficult for Ukraine to strengthen its economy and sever ties with Russia. With Russian forces already amassed along the eastern border and poised to invade, Putin could easily take Ukraine in its weakened state. While funding the pipeline would enable Ukraine to improve its economy and sever ties with Russia, this strategy was even more likely to lead to war. Either way, war seemed inevitable for Ukraine and possibly the United States.

  “Are you okay?” Jase slid effortlessly into a parking space.

  “I’m fine. I’m just tired. I was too worried about this meeting to sleep last night.” I researched alternative funding streams nearly the entire night. Congress was still Plan A since it was the only place where I maintained useful connections. USAID was Plan B, although I didn’t know anyone working at that agency. IMF was Plan C, an option of last resort. I was planning to run the alternative funding streams by Senator Rockefeller if he shot down the rider. Even if we couldn’t secure congressional funding, I was certain he could help me establish the necessary connections at IMF and USAID.

  Jase helped me from the Jeep. “Perhaps an early bed time is in order since you don’t have school tonight.” He fed the meter before escorting me inside the restaurant.

  Senator Rockefeller was sitting next to a man I didn’t recognize. Both stood as we approached. Senator Rockefeller reached for my hand first. “Ms. Stone, thank you for joining us.”

  “Of course, Senator. Thank you for inviting me to lunch. I’d like you to meet my friend and my bodyguard, Jase Adkins. Jase, this is Senator Jay D. Rockefeller.”

  Senator Rockefeller shook Jase’s hand before introducing the man with the salt and pepper hair. “This is Mark Sondell. He represents the United States on the IMF Executive Board.”

  I squared my shoulders as I grasped his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Jase held my chair before claiming his seat. Our waiter handed us tightly rolled steaming washcloths with bamboo tongs before taking our drink orders. My stomach felt too queasy to order anything more than sparkling water.

  Senator Rockefeller began as soon as the waiter walked away from the table. We’d agreed on the set menu while placing our drink order. “As Mr. Sondell’s presence might suggest, I think it would be beneficial to pursue funding for the Odessa-Brody pipeline through the IMF.”

  “In lieu of the rider or in addition to congressional funding?” I warily inquired.

  “I’ve run this proposal by the senate democratic leadership. I believe we can garner enough support to pursue the rider, but I don’t believe we can accomplish this in time for the upcoming election,” Senator Rockefeller replied. “I’d like to ensure a pro-Western candidate wins the election in Ukraine. Funding the pipeline may help us achieve that objective, but you know how this works. There’s no way we can get this rider and whatever bill it’s attached to through committee, the full House, and the Senate before the election. The IMF can act more swiftly, and this is precisely the type of project their organization funds.”

  Mr. Sondell braced his elbow against the table. “I can add this to our agenda and secure a vote from the executive board as soon as Ukraine files their letter of intent. We should be able to secure the funding within a week to ten days.”

  We paused briefly when the waiter returned with our drinks and a platter of steamed dumplings.

  I studied the two men while they transferred steamed dumplings to their plates. “How detailed would Ukraine have to be in this letter of intent? Would Mr. Markov have to reveal that the loan will be used to extend the pipeline?”

  “Yes. The letter of intent must provide sufficient detail to ensure a favorable vote.” Mr. Sondell dunked his dumpling in the dipping sauce before popping it in his mouth.

  I shook my head when Jase offered me the dumplings. “With all due respect, I feel that would be a grave mistake.”

  Senator Rockefeller’s chopsticks stalled just above his plate.

  “I’m certain we can garner enough votes to approve funding for this pipeline,” Mr. Sondell assured me.

  I forced an even tone. “Russia’s Aleksei Mozhin sits on the IMF Executive Board.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Russia does not wield enough votes to block this.”

  “I’m aware of that fact, but Mr. Mozhin would undoubtedly alert President Putin of these plans. Putin has been trying to block the extension of the Odessa-Brody pipeline for years. He paid Yanukovych to connect the Odessa-Brody pipeline to the Druzhba pipeline. He blocked trade with Ukraine until they reversed the flow of oil, so the Odessa-Brody pipeline transports Russian oil to Mediterranean countries instead of transporting Ukrainian fuel as was originally intended. This has crippled the Ukrainian economy and left them even more vulnerable to Russia’s influence. Putin has troops stationed along Ukraine’s eastern border. He’s just itching to invade. Mr. Markov and I are concerned that he will bomb the pipeline or invade Ukraine when he gets wind of this project. We need to secure funding, get the missile defense system in place, and complete the project as discretely as possible.”

  “Ukraine has expressed an interest in housing the missile defense shield we developed for Poland. This would enable them to protect the pipeline among other things,” Senator Rockefeller explained.

  Mr. Sondell eyed my empty plate. “Russia has grown increasingly hostile toward them. I fear they will invade either way.”

  “I appreciate your willingness to fund this pipeline, but I have another option I’d like to discuss with Senator Rockefeller before settling on a course of action.” I pushed my plate aside. “USAID was granted seventeen billion dollars in discretionary funding last week. I’d like to see if they’d be willing to fund this project. This would enable us to proceed a bit more discretely. They already have staff assigned to the embassy in Ukraine who could provide oversight and monitoring.”

  “Your objectives are consistent with their mission.” Senator Rockefeller stroked his jaw.

  Mr. Sondell grew pensive. “Would they be willing to fund the entire project?”

  I winced. “Seven hundred and eighty million dollars is a lot of money for USAID to invest in a single country. I’m still holding out hope the European Investment Bank or the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development will finance a portion of this project.”

  “Have you approached them?” The Senator claimed the last dumpling when the waiter arrived with the main course.

  My stomach growled when I smelled the flounder and bok choy smothered in crab. “Mr. Markov is meeting with them tomorrow.”

  He fished his phone from his coat pocket. “Do you know anyone over at USAID?”

  “No.” I bit my bottom lip. “I was hoping you could recommend someone.”

  He typed out a brief text. “You’ll have a name by the end of the day. I’ll do what I can to pave the way.”

  Gradually, I released the breath I’d been holding. “Thank you, Senator.”

  Mr. Sondell handed me his business card. “You’re welcome to call if that doesn’t pan out.”

  I tucked his card inside my wallet. “Thank you, Mr. Sondell. I truly appreciate your help.”

  The lunch ended amicably with coffee and a chocolate torte.

  * * * * *

  “Hi, love. How’d it go?”

  “Well, Maxim’s a month into his campaign and we still haven’t secured any funding.” I turned the light off in the bathroom and padded off to bed. “Senator Rockefeller has been incredibly supportive, but he doesn’t think we can secure the funding before the election if we go through Congress.”

  “What are you going to do?” There was some rustling over the phone while Rafael settled in for our call.

  I gl
anced at the clock on my cell phone. It was eight o’clock in Virginia, one o’clock in the morning in Lisbon. “I’m going to pursue grant funding through USAID. I’m meeting with the executive director of their Global Development Lab on Thursday. Maxim’s meeting with the European Investment Bank and the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development tomorrow morning, so we’ll have a better understanding of our options by the end of the week.”

  “Are you still flying to Lisbon Thursday night?”

  I shivered when my legs slid between the cool sheets. “Yes. Are you still free this weekend?”

  “I’m free,” he assured me. “I’ll have the jet fueled and waiting for you at Reagan National Airport by five o’clock Thursday. I’ll make sure you’re pre-cleared so you don’t have to go through customs, and I’ll meet you at the jet so you don’t have to walk through the airport by yourself.”

  “I don’t want to see anybody. I don’t want to go out to eat. I just want to stay home and cuddle with you.” Work, school, and Maxim’s campaign had proven exhausting. If the truth be told, I just wanted to crawl under a rock and never again see the light of day. I was that tired.

  “I have something very low key planned for Friday and Saturday, just the two of us, but we’re meeting with the priest on Sunday so we can begin the marriage preparation course.”

  I’d totally forgotten we were going to squeeze that in when I returned to Lisbon. “Sounds good.” Hopefully, I could sleep during the flight. I sighed, recalling the first time we flew on Rafael’s jet. It seemed wrong, flying on that jet without him.

  “What’s the matter, baby?” Rafael could read me, sight unseen, from thousands of miles away.

  “Nothing. I just miss you. A lot.” Thursday could not come soon enough.

  “I miss you too,” he whispered soothingly.

  “Tell me about your case,” I pleaded around a throat full of tears.

  “Well, the celebrity I’m currently investigating has declined police protection while in Lisbon, so we’ve had to monitor him through a series of stakeouts. I’m practically living in this unmarked car.”

  My eyes widened. “You’re in the car now?”

  “Yes,” he grumbled. “We’ve been sitting here for six hours.”

  I fluffed my pillow and burrowed beneath the duvet. “So you’re working with a partner?”

  “Vasco is with me.” Vasco helped us wrap presents for the orphanage. He was jovial then, probably fun to hang out with.

  “Boa noite, Kristine,” Vasco called out cheerfully.

  “So, what are you doing now?” I pictured them hunkered down in the car with high powered night vision binoculars.

  “Playing cards and eating natas,” Rafael revealed with a chuckle. “The guy rented a house with glass walls, which makes it easier for us to monitor him. He’s sleeping now.”

  I groaned, recalling how creamy those decadent little pastries were. “Be sure to stock up on natas Friday morning before you come to the airport.”

  Rafael laughed. “I’ll send some back with Captain Anderson. They’ll be waiting for you when you board the jet.”

  “God, I love you.” My arm looped around his pillow.

  “I love you too. Call me tomorrow.”

  “I will,” I promised. “Boa noite.”

  “Boa noite, meu amor.”

  Sleep found me curled around his pillow with the cell phone lodged beneath my head.

  * * * * *

  A well-muscled arm coiled around my waist, tugging me back against a granite chest. “Dobryy den’.”

  The little glass shaker filled with nutmeg tumbled into the frothy cappuccino. “Maxim?” Goose bumps pricked my skin when he nuzzled my neck.

  “Release her,” Jase growled.

  His arm tightened when I turned around. The entire length of his body pressed me back against the condiments bar. “No.”

  I glanced at Jase. His back had been turned for all of two seconds while the barista brewed his latte. Now, two men restrained Jase so he couldn’t intervene. His face was red, his eyes beyond livid. I forced an exasperated breath. “He’s just doing this to make you mad.”

  “Not true,” Maxim purred. “I’m doing this because I love the feel of your body pressed against mine.” He shifted ever so slightly.

  The room spun when I felt how aroused he was. “Maxim,” I pleaded. “Let me go.”

  His breath tickled my neck. “Never.” He sought the sweet spot behind my ear. His arms loosened, but he didn’t step back. He chuckled when I slid out from beneath him.

  I glared at the men restraining Jase. “Release him.”

  Their lips curved into half smiles. Still, they awaited Maxim’s order.

  Maxim shrugged. “You should aspire to stay on her good side. She will soon be the First Lady of Ukraine.”

  I stood in front of Jase when they released him. “I’m fine. He’s just trying to provoke you.”

  “Why are you here?” Jase demanded angrily.

  “I’m here to speak with Kristine.” Maxim swiped Jase’s coffee from the bar and motioned toward a table in the far corner. “Shall we?” Amusement danced in his eyes while he awaited my response.

  “I have to leave for USAID in fifteen minutes.” I fished the bottle of nutmeg from my coffee, wiped it down with a napkin, and handed it to the barista. “I’m sorry. You might want to refill that.” I tossed the cappuccino in the trash before staring at Maxim.

  He steered me toward the table, pulled a chair out for me, and claimed the one against the wall. He set Jase’s coffee directly in front of me, as if it were some sort of peace offering. “You look beautiful.”

  I glanced down at my clothes. I was wearing a heather gray sheath dress and the pearls Rafael had given me. This conservative ensemble was framed by a black ankle length coat that puddled against the floor on either side of me. I turned briefly. Jase was glowering a few feet away. My eyes widened when I noticed the contingent of men standing guard outside the coffee shop. Thankfully, there were no guns drawn. Still, their postures were just menacing enough to dissuade others from entering the shop. I handed Jase his coffee while ignoring the compliment. “Do you want me to cancel the meeting?”

  Maxim relaxed into his seat. “No, but I would like to join you.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “You want to attend the meeting with USAID?”

  His smile widened. “If you don’t mind.”

  I searched his eyes. “What happened yesterday?”

  He leaned forward conspiratorially. “The European Bank for Reconstruction and Development offered to loan us five hundred million dollars to extend the pipeline into Poland.”

  “Maxim, that’s awesome.” I was so happy for him.

  He beamed, obviously pleased. “Maybe this will help persuade USAID to loan us the remaining two hundred and eighty million dollars.”

  “They don’t issue loans. They issue grants, so you wouldn’t have to pay that portion back.”

  He smiled. “Even better.”

  One of the men from his security detail handed me a cup of coffee. “Cappuccino with nutmeg.”

  “So the mafia still makes the occasional coffee run,” I teased.

  “They do,” Maxim conceded.

  I studied the contingent of men while pondering whether those ties were truly severed. “We need to leave, or we’ll be late for the meeting.”

  Maxim stood. “Will you ride with me?”

  “We’ll meet you there,” Jase gritted.

  I grasped Maxim’s hand as I rose from my chair. “I’ll meet you in the main lobby.” I rolled onto my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “You might want to lose the gun before you walk through security.”

  His jaw clenched.

  I tucked my hand beneath Jase’s arm as we walked away. “Thanks.”

  “For what?” he demanded irritably.

  I waited until we left the coffee shop. “For resisting the urge to punch him out.”

  A frigid gust of wind tugged
at my coat when Jase swung the door to the main building open. “Why are you friends with that man?”

  I sighed, knowing full well he’d never understand. “Aside from the fact that he saved my life?”

  Brady had retrieved my Jeep while Jase and I ordered coffee. He was now idling curbside in front of my office building. Jase opened the rear passenger door. “I don’t trust him.”

  I climbed into the back seat. “Maxim behaves outrageously to assert his dominance, to throw people off, and to gain the upper hand. Just ignore him. He’s not interested in a relationship with me. Well, he might be on some level, but he knows I’d be miserable in Ukraine, and he’s not the type of man to force me there. He’s way too proud for that.”

  Jase snorted his disbelief. He joined Brady in the front seat. “Thirteen-hundred Pennsylvania Avenue.”

  Brady eased into traffic. “What’s going on?”

  I leaned back in my seat. “Maxim’s joining us at USAID.”

  His eyes shot toward Jase. “Maxim’s in DC?”

  “He mauled Kristine when we stopped for coffee.” Jase looked pointedly at me.

  My eyes narrowed. “He wasn’t mauling me. He was trying to make you mad by acting a little too friendly. Acting would be the operative word in that sentence, in case you were wondering.”

  “Why’s he here?” Brady resumed driving after idling at a red light.

  “He obtained a partial loan for the pipeline and wants to secure the rest of the funding.” I swiped a thin layer of gloss over my lips while peering into the jeweled mirror Kimme sent me for Christmas.

  “We should let Kadyn and Rafael know he’s here.” Jase reached for his cell phone.

  “Why should that matter when I’m leaving?” They were driving me to the airport after the meeting. My suitcase was sitting in the back of the jeep.

  “I’m letting them know, regardless.” His thumbs flew over the phone.

  I couldn’t resist the groan or the eye roll. I turned my cell phone off so the onslaught of texts that were likely to ensue wouldn’t disrupt the meeting.

  Brady pulled alongside the curb outside USAID. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”