She shook her head.
“The only easy day was yesterday.”
“Yesterday sucked,” she reminded him.
“You survived, didn’t you? And today’s already off to a great start.”
“Yay?” she whispered uncertainly.
He urged her to keep moving. “We made it through another attempt on your life and, assuming we stay out of sight, it’ll be a while until they know they failed.” They were walking fast along a back road. He tucked her under his arm and urged her to move faster. They looked like young lovers out for an early morning stroll—obviously the illusion he was going for. It felt nice to be held like this, protected and cherished, in a way she’d never experienced. She couldn’t afford to get used to it.
“Still want to turn yourself in to Dorokhov?”
The Russian seriously wanted her dead and she had no idea why—well, aside from breaking into his office and trying to spy on him. There was that word again. Spy. It made her brain hurt.
The man had kidnapped her best friend and tried to kill her twice. Damn. “I don’t think he’s going to accept my apology, is he?”
“No, I don’t think he’s going to accept your apology, Scarlett.” Matt agreed.
Her life was over.
She had no clue if she was even going to make it to Christmas Day. She kept that thought to herself. No point sharing her pity-fest with a man who’d give her a pep talk about sucking it up. She’d suck it up until she fell apart or died—that didn’t mean that inside she wasn’t self-destructing with terror.
An idea took hold. “Do you think he thinks I found something to incriminate him and absolve my father?”
Matt gave her an exasperated look and his arm tightened across her shoulders. “I think you pissed him off and the crazy bastard thinks he’s powerful enough to get away with murder.”
“So what do you think I should do?” She was asking for advice from a man who’d arrested her and then had his home destroyed. Logically he might not be impartial, but logic had disappeared ever since she’d slipped into that party under an assumed name.
“You need to disappear for a while.”
She thought of her work. Her job was all she had and now she’d put it in jeopardy. Despair expanded inside her. “That’s not going to be easy.”
“Hey, it could be worse.” He gave her a squeeze, which felt so natural and so right, it sent a bolt of regret through her.
“How?”
“You could be in jail.” His smile was half-hearted. “Actually you might be better off locked up.”
“If I kick you, will you slap on the cuffs again, Agent Lazlo?”
“Don’t tempt me, Dr. Stone. Don’t tempt me.” But the twinkle in his eye was gone, and he was obviously thinking about the fact someone had just tried to kill her and hadn’t minded taking him and all his worldly goods along with her. Nothing like a dose of reality to bring you back down to earth with a bang.
* * *
Raminski bent and tugged the zip on his drysuit, enjoying the pull as it worked its way across his shoulders. He whistled soundlessly as he stripped off the neoprene, black pants and shirt underneath, both slightly damp after his long swim.
The call at the warehouse last night had been from someone who’d tracked down FBI Agent Matt Lazlo. Once Sergio discovered the federal agent lived on a boat, all his prayers had been answered.
Americans were not the only ones to train in underwater demolition.
FLIR thermal imaging cameras had identified two people onboard the sailboat. Given the two beverage cups from a Central DC coffee shop in the front seat of his government issue car, and a hat, very like the one Scarlett Stone had worn in the park last night, sitting on the dash, Sergio was pretty sure she was the smaller of the two heat sources. Or, rather, she had been.
After attaching the limpet mine to the hull of FBI Agent Lazlo’s yacht, Sergio had swam out of the harbor and around the headland to where he’d left his vehicle. He’d felt the boom when he’d set off the bomb, but he’d been far enough away not to be bothered by the impact, largely absorbed by the sea wall. Lazlo was regrettable collateral damage, but who knew what the Stone woman had told the FBI Special Agent.
Leaving him alive was too big a risk.
Sergio slicked the cold Atlantic out of his hair as the sirens grew louder and more insistent. The breeze was frigid and he shivered. He stowed the drysuit in the trunk along with the rest of his gear. Job done. Now he had to get back to work. Sergio Raminski had duties that couldn’t be put aside. And later he had to check on the prisoner. Make sure she was still alive and no one had touched her. Hopefully he could arrange her release just as soon as he informed Dorokhov about Scarlett Stone’s death.
He didn’t allow himself to feel remorse for killing the woman. She’d been an active part in the game. A willing participant. Angelina LeMay however was a woman who’d been in the wrong place with the wrong friend. She was an innocent and he’d never enjoyed seeing innocents suffer. Maybe that was why he was doing what he was doing. Maybe that was why he was risking his own life by crossing not just the Russian Ambassador, but the entire Russian Federation.
* * *
Matt force-marched Scarlett along the road. He needed to get her out of sight ASAP and talk to Frazer. Having his boat blown to smithereens pissed him off, but he channeled that anger into the more important issue of getting this woman somewhere safe. At least he’d finally convinced her not to hand-deliver herself to Dorokhov, but that could change if she found out the truth about Angel LeMay.
The HRT team was still on standby awaiting a ransom demand. Something told Matt the ransom would be the young woman tucked warmly into his side—or at least news of her death.
They dodged around a factory and some residential housing, listening to the sound of sirens piercing the air as they slogged through a field of frosted grass that crunched underfoot. He considered heading to the TacOps site, not far away, but Scarlett didn’t have security clearance. Although he didn’t think she had an agenda beyond redeeming her father, he wasn’t about to break protocol or risk exposing his colleagues. There was too much at stake.
He hoped to hell none of his neighbors had been hurt in the explosion. It was winter, and no one except him used their boats for full-time accommodation on that side of the pier. Still, boats either side of his would have been damaged and maybe sunk. Fucking Russians.
Scarlett tripped and he anchored his arm more securely around her shoulders. He liked the feel of her pressed up against him, even though it was a one-off situation. A cover. Might as well enjoy it. The rest of the morning sucked but at least they were still alive.
Being in the teams had taught him to appreciate the good things in life and not get stuck on the bad. Shit happened. Every. Single. Day.
It took fifteen minutes to reach his intended destination and by the time they got there, Scarlett was breathing heavily, almost running to keep up with his much longer stride. He didn’t have time to be courteous and slow down for her. Her life depended on them both getting out of sight as fast as possible.
He guided Scarlett to the rear door of the nursing home where his mother now lived. He propped her up next to a bush near a fire exit. “I’m going to go in the front door. I’ll check in. Give me five minutes and I’ll let you in through this fire door.”
She grabbed his arm, eyes a little desperate. “Won’t it be alarmed?” Her hair was a mess and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. Those brown eyes of hers were so dark they were almost black, and she had freckles that were only visible up close. Freckles. Freckles were a killer, as were soft shell-pink lips.
“I’ve got it covered.”
She nodded. He stared at her.
On the surface, she was pretty, but nothing spectacular. Girl-next-door beauty that he saw every day in the course of his work. So, what was it about this woman that had called to him from the very start? He’d thought it was the heels or the dress, but even now, mussed up and in
jeans, he wanted to pull her close and place his lips upon hers.
What had Frazer said about Scarlett? Don’t get attached? The guy knew what he was talking about. Annoyed with his reaction, he took a step back and she dropped her hand. The expression on her face became more uncertain the longer he continued to stare. He shook his head to clear it. Not the time to be thinking about women. He had a job to do.
“Wait here,” he ordered. He walked around the front of the nursing home—Glen Lawn—and into reception, past a fake Christmas tree covered with more tinsel than Hollywood. There was no camera surveillance out front. Just a buzzer and an alarm system.
“Hello there, Matt. You’re here early.” The friendly voice belonged to Rhonda, an RN who generally took the nightshift.
“Hey, Rhonda.” He leaned over the counter and gave her a smile. She was good people. “I wanted to check in on Mom before work.” Realistically he had no idea when this goatfuck would be resolved. Not that Scarlett was his responsibility. He could just hand her off. But the assholes had upped the stakes by blowing up his boat, trying to kill an FBI agent who also happened to be a decorated former Navy SEAL. That should get the authorities hollering. “I have something I want to bring in through the side door—will you disarm the alarm for me?” They did this all the time for heavy objects as that fire door was closer to the rooms.
“No worries.” She flicked a switch. “No change, I’m afraid. Your mom had a peaceful night.”
After more than seven hundred days of the same, he hadn’t expected anything else. “Thanks. I won’t be long.” Matt nodded and walked away.
“Merry Christmas, Matt.”
He paused. Even with all the shiny decorations, he’d forgotten it was Christmas Eve. He’d never been a big fan of the holidays, too many reminders of his father, or lack of one. “Merry Christmas, Rhonda.”
He pushed through the double doors into one of the main corridors, down the end, turned right, then opened the side door and motioned Scarlett inside. She was the perfect picture of woebegone and he felt a twinge of compassion that battled with the knowledge she’d brought it all on herself. She started this, but the Russians sure as hell wanted to finish it.
He didn’t like bullies, didn’t like men going after innocent women and children—although calling Scarlett innocent was a stretch. Naïve, definitely. Innocent? He flashed back to that image of her retrieving that damn screwdriver and felt himself getting hard. He set his teeth and ignored the problem.
“Why are we here?” she asked quietly.
It was barely six AM and the halls were empty.
He put his finger to his lips and took her hand. He told himself it was expediency, nothing to do with savoring the feel of her slim fingers against his. He tugged her along and she half-ran to keep up. The best way of keeping Scarlett Stone out of trouble, he decided, would be by keeping her off balance. Giving her too much time to think would be a mistake.
They went up one floor in the elevator and took a left. Strode down the corridor until he reached a plain, brown door with the number thirty-two on it. He knocked gently and when there was no reply, he let them quietly inside. His mother was alone and lay asleep on a twin bed with an ornate wooden headboard. He’d decorated the room two years ago with the same floral paper she had in her home—a house he’d rented to a young family because selling it felt wrong. Various tubes were attached to his mom, and a heartbeat monitor, but apart from that, it looked like a normal old folks’ room.
She’d sacrificed everything for him when he was growing up, and he intended to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as she needed. His mom had already been abandoned by one asshole named Lazlo and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.
She lay on her back, although the nursing staff turned her regularly to prevent bedsores. Her hair was bright white, almost colorless. She was only in her late sixties, and so peaceful looking it was hard to believe she’d probably never wake up. He went over and kissed her cheek. It felt paper-thin. “Hey, Mom. Just came to say ‘Hi’.” He kissed her again and moved away, trying not to think about the futility of what was happening here.
Losing friends in combat hurt, but they’d chosen to fight and to sacrifice themselves for their country and their brothers. He respected that sacrifice. His mother hadn’t chosen this. But her indomitable spirit refused to let go.
Some days he wished she would and the thought made him feel guilty as hell. But human. All too human.
He wasn’t capable of caring for her on a day-to-day basis. Bringing her here, keeping her close was the best he could manage. The added guilt of leaving her with strangers sometimes kept him awake at night, but he knew it was the only way to keep his sanity. And it’s what she would have wanted.
He knew it. It hurt anyway.
Scarlett pursed her lips and looked distressed when she stared at the woman in the bed.
He stood in front of her and pressed his hands to her upper arms. “Don’t worry, we’re not staying long. Take a seat.” There was no reason to think the bad guys would follow them here. With the size of that explosion, they’d assume they were food for the fishes.
He took his mother’s phone and went into the bathroom. Scarlett followed him and closed the door after them. Damn. He’d wanted to do this without her listening in.
His cell was in his pocket, but he didn’t want to use it and give away the fact he was alive to anyone listening in. He pulled it out and checked the number for Frazer.
Before he could dial, Scarlett caught his wrist. “Who are you calling?”
“ASAC Frazer.”
Her eyes grew huge. “Call my cell instead.”
“You don’t trust my boss?”
She shook her head, “It isn’t that exactly, but…” He could see the doubt in her eyes. She still believed her father had been set up and someone in the FBI was responsible. “Okay, call Parker instead.”
Her eyes begged him to do as she asked.
“Fine.” He dialed Parker. It made sense in many ways, but Scarlett didn’t need to know that.
“And don’t use any names. Who knows what the NSA can flag these days.” She looked so serious he refrained from eye rolling.
Parker answered on the third ring.
“It’s me.”
“What’s up?” Parker didn’t ask why he was calling from an unknown number.
“Someone just blasted my boat to kingdom come.”
“Shit. The girl?”
Matt noticed he didn’t use her name either. Was he as paranoid as Scarlett? Maybe Matt was the naïve one. He looked at her standing beside him in his mother’s bathroom, and wondered how life had gone from normal to so fucking complicated in twelve short hours.
“Whoever planted the bomb probably thinks we’re both dead at the bottom of the marina.”
“You talk to Frazer yet?”
“You were my first call.”
“That must have been her idea.”
“How’d you figure that?” Matt asked.
“Because you’re a rule follower and would immediately call your boss. She’s smarter.”
“I respect the chain of command.”
“Rule follower. Linear thinker.”
Matt resented the fact he was right. “I’m hanging up and calling Frazer any second now.”
“Don’t. You made a good choice. No one can trace this call or listen in. I also put a lock on anyone trying to track the signal on Scarlett’s cell. Russians are definitely looking for her. Might be useful later.”
“How did they know she was with me? I wasn’t followed.”
“Assuming you weren’t targeted for your previous actions?”
“The same night as this shit is going down?” Being a former Navy SEAL was not something he advertised for obvious reasons. “How likely is that?”
“Not very,” Parker agreed. “I’m presuming the Russians had your identity from the party last night. When they lost Scarlett, they went looking for you inste
ad. Can she hear this?”
“No.”
She was trying to eavesdrop, but Matt held himself away from her and Parker spoke softly so his voice didn’t carry.
“The LeMay girl is still missing and there’s been no ransom demand yet. I suspect they are holding her for barter. I have some programs running on the Russians from the embassy, but they haven’t popped anything as to where they might be keeping her. Yet. They will, but they need time, usually a few days.”
Scarlett held up a bottle of mouthwash with a questioning look on her face.
She wouldn’t use mouthwash without permission, but took it upon herself to bug foreign dignitaries?
He nodded. She unscrewed the cap and the sharp scent of mint flooded the air.
“Frazer wants us to start looking into Richard Stone’s case on the off-chance someone made a mistake. We’ve got to be subtle about it. Unfortunately there’s no way Rooney and I can skip Christmas with her family—much as I’d like to—which means I’ll be working on this from West Virginia.”
Matt felt a prickle of surprise run over his flesh. “He doesn’t actually believe there’s something in those old files, does he?”
Scarlett’s dark gaze swung to his and he saw a spark of hope shoot through her eyes. Christ.
“No. But he’s wondering why the Russians overreacted the way they did—that’s going to go double when he hears your boat was scuttled.”
Matt remembered the mass of fiery objects shooting through the air and figured scuttled didn’t quite cover it.
“We checked those surveillance tapes of Dorokhov’s office, but they only kept a few days’ worth—at least that’s what they told us. Nothing on them points to anything aside from the guy being an asshole.”
Matt laughed at the understatement. “Any idea why they were watching him?”
“Nope. I’m not in that need-to-know loop, and neither is Frazer.” And if Frazer didn’t know, it was going to be hard for any of them to figure out. “Can you stay where you are for a few hours?” Alex Parker asked him.
Matt thought about it. “No.” He needed to talk to Rhonda, who went off duty in about fifteen minutes. He had to tell her to forget she saw him today. But there were other people who worked here and knew his face. Wouldn’t take long for one of them to call the cops and tell them the FBI agent they were so worried was at the bottom of the ocean was actually hunkered down in his mom’s suite. No way was he luring bad guys here. They needed to leave ASAP.
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