“Kat Kasharin—how is she?”
The woman blinked. He knew she was on the verge of refusing him any information, but she swallowed and looked down at her computer screen. “Er, I don’t have a Kat Kasharin in surgery.”
Mendez swore. What the hell name had she entered under? He didn’t know. He’d been so focused on her, on watching her pale gray form and holding her limp hand as the ambulance raced through the streets. He didn’t know what name Ian had given when the ambulance arrived, or even how he’d managed to climb into the ambulance with her though they weren’t related. He had a recollection of insisting and that was about it.
“The woman with the gunshot wound to her neck. Lost a lot of blood. Critical.”
“Are you a relative, sir?”
His fury levels shot through the roof. He placed two bloody hands on the counter and leaned in. His voice, when he spoke, was low and hard. “Tell me how she’s doing. Now.”
The woman took in the blood on his hands, his face, his clothing. Then her gaze dropped to the screen and she started tapping the keys. “Uh, Miss Svetlana Vlacic is still in surgery. There’s nothing more I can tell you.”
“Sir.” It was a woman’s voice from his right. He swiveled his gaze on her. She was dressed in scrubs, an older woman with a kindly face. She held a clipboard and had a stethoscope around her neck. “Why don’t you come with me to the private waiting area for trauma patients? You can clean up there, and someone will let you know as soon as Miss Vlacic is out of surgery.”
He followed her to a much quieter room. There was no one in it but him. The nurse pointed to a door. “You can clean up in there if you like.”
He stood in the middle of the room after she’d gone, feeling lost and alone. His eyes stung. He turned and yanked open the door to the bathroom. His appearance in the mirror shocked him. Blood streaked his face, his beard, ran down his neck, disappeared beneath the collar of his borrowed shirt.
He turned on the taps. Without waiting for the water to warm, he scrubbed his hands. The sink turned pink as blood washed away. When his hands and arms were clean, he scrubbed his face and then dried everything with paper towels.
His eyes were bloodshot and the lines around his mouth were more pronounced than usual. He put his hands on either side of the sink and dragged air in through his nose, let it out slowly through his mouth. Worked on finding his calm.
Except he didn’t think that was going to happen anytime soon. Not really. Eventually he straightened and tugged the door open.
He was no longer alone in the waiting room. Ian Black looked up from where he’d been sitting with his elbows on his knees and his hands hanging down between them. He straightened.
“I’m sorry,” Ian said, and Mendez’s guts dissolved. His heart throttled higher and the hot sting of grief punched the back of his throat.
“She didn’t make it,” Mendez said, trying the words on, forcing himself to speak them. He’d been here once before, after all. He could survive anything. He’d done it twenty-one years ago.
Only now he’d lost so much more than just Kat. He’s also lost Roman, a son he’d never known. Why did that make it hurt more?
Ian shot to his feet. “What? What do you mean she didn’t make it?”
Mendez lost his footing as his knees gave out. He dropped into the chair with a thud, grateful it was there to catch him.
“I thought… You said you were sorry.”
“Oh Jesus.” Ian closed his eyes for a long moment. “Sorry, no. I meant I was sorry for everything that had happened. Sorry she got shot. Sorry I couldn’t stop it.”
Mendez shook his head, leaning back until he touched the wall. Maybe it would hold him up and keep him from sliding formless to the floor.
It took him a long while to speak. “If you had access to Turov, why did you need me for anything?”
Ian’s eyes were bloodshot too. “I didn’t have access. Not really. For the past few years, I’ve billed myself as your enemy. Turov believed I hated you and your organization more than he did. He’s hired me for a couple of jobs, nothing big—but when you were in Russia and his people fucked up capturing you, he called me. I was already on my way because of DeWitt. I took the opportunity. I knew you’d infiltrate his house.”
“Are you the reason HOT was delayed?”
“No.”
Mendez closed his eyes. “So many fucking things going wrong.”
“Yep. Another reason I took the opportunity to be there when you infiltrated.”
He was tired and heartsick. “You’ve been involved with Turov and DeWitt from the beginning. Don’t tell me you couldn’t expose their connection without me or Kat.”
Ian sank onto a chair, hands clasped. “I really couldn’t. I know they talk. I know DeWitt is in debt to Sergei—but I wasn’t part of their inner circle. I’m a mercenary, remember? I do dirty jobs here and there, but I’m not part of the organization.”
“Yeah.” He frowned. “Where’s Turov? You let him walk out of the room before Dmitri shot Kat.”
“He’s in custody. And you were right about his plans for the Kremlin, by the way.”
He’d forgotten about that. Forgotten everything but her. “I don’t recall telling you my theory.”
“Ghost shared it with me. He thought I might be useful. Sergei owns a catering business, among others. His people were planning to set a bomb, and your men were going to be in a van nearby with another bomb. Dead before the explosion, of course. But their DNA would have been all over the scene.”
“How the hell was he going to get away with that?”
“Corruption. He’s paid off half the police force. Getting past security wasn’t going to be a problem. And Sergei would have been in Saint Petersburg when it happened, so…”
“DeWitt?”
“Don’t know if he intended for DeWitt to be there or not.”
Mendez’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He’d almost forgotten he had it. He took it out and hit the button when he saw it was Ghost.
“We’ve got Delta Squad.”
Relief rolled through him like an afternoon rain shower on a hot day. “How are they?”
“Dehydrated. Hungry. They’ve been in that cage for a week with little food or water.”
“Get them home, Ghost. And thanks.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Ghost said. He was silent for a moment. “You need anything, Viper?”
Mendez pulled a hand over his face, wishing there was something HOT could do for him. Some way to save Kat and bring her back too. “No. I got this. Get the hell out of here. I’ll see you Stateside.”
The door opened and a nurse entered. Mendez got to his feet. Ian did the same. His heart thundered and his palms were sweating. The nurse took them both in with a glance. They were big men, dressed for battle, and they looked like they’d fought one too. Or Mendez did. Ian looked refreshingly crisp in his tactical gear.
“Who’s here with Svetlana Vlacic?”
“I am.” They spoke at the same time. Mendez shot Ian a glare and the man shrugged.
The nurse’s gaze bounced between them. “The doctor will be in to speak with you shortly. Miss Vlacic is stable at the moment and the surgery was a success.”
His knees almost gave out again. He put a hand against the wall to steady himself. He didn’t care how it looked or what anyone thought.
“When can I see her?”
The nurse smiled gently. “Not just yet. But soon. Please wait for the doctor.”
Chapter 42
Kat drifted. She dreamed of snow-covered mountains, of a little boy with dark eyes who laughed and called her Mama, and of a man with a hot gaze who stripped her clothes from her body and made her feel alive. She wanted to feel alive—but she never quite got there.
There was always a frustrating barrier, like the film on a pond that bugs skated across. She couldn’t see the barrier, but she felt it when she came up against it. And she couldn’t get through.
She didn’t know
how long she stayed behind the barrier, but finally her eyes fluttered open. It wasn’t bright where she was. She let her gaze drift, trying to take in her surroundings. There were clicking and beeping sounds behind her and lines that went from her body to the bags and tubes nearby.
Hospital.
She was in a hospital, though she couldn’t remember why. She tried to sit up—and someone pressed her back down again with murmured words she didn’t really comprehend. Her throat was dry. So very dry.
“Water,” she said, but it didn’t come out sounding like that at all. That’s when she realized there was a tube in her nose. She started to scream, but someone held her down and everything went black again.
The next time she woke, the tube was gone. Her eyes fluttered open—and he was there. Johnny.
“Kat,” he whispered, and she reached for his hand as her eyes filled with tears.
“Johnny.”
“Yeah, it’s me.” His smile lit her world.
She tried to reach up to touch him, but her hand fell back to the bed, too weak to obey.
“You scared me,” he said.
“Scared me too.” Her voice cracked and scratched. So weak. “What happened?”
He bent down and ran a hand over her hair. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she shivered happily. “I’ll tell you all about it when you’re better.”
She gripped his hand as hard as she could. She got the impression that it wasn’t very hard. “Don’t leave me here. Please.”
“I got work to do, baby—but I’m not leaving you. Promise. If you wake up and I’m not here, I’ll be back soon. Okay?”
What else could she say? “Okay.”
The world grew dim before winking out again.
Mendez took great pleasure in what he was about to do. He didn’t have his uniform to wear, but he wore the next best thing. Tactical gear, minus the weapons. He stood in the lobby of the luxury hotel near Red Square where Mark DeWitt was staying and waited while his name was sent up to the vice president’s suite.
Ian Black stood beside him, looking serious as a heart attack.
“It’s okay, Ian,” he said. “We’ve got him.”
“Yes, sir. I think we do.”
Mendez rolled his eyes. “Stop with the sirs already. You’re doing it to irritate me.”
Ian looked surprised. “I’m not at all. I’m just…” He hesitated. “Damn, I’ve been working this fucking case for so long I can’t believe it’s nearly over. And it wouldn’t be without HOT. Without you. I know you’re pissed at me, but I can’t think of another way this could go down.”
“Yeah, well, it isn’t over yet.”
An aide came and ushered them up to the VPOTUS’s suite where they were checked for weapons before being allowed in. DeWitt sat by a window, leg bouncing as he drank coffee and scrolled through his phone. His chief of staff, Gabe Nelson, lounged in a chair nearby. Both men looked up as he and Ian entered.
He looked puzzled at first, probably because he’d expected Mendez to be in cuffs if Ian was there. But he recovered smoothly.
“Ah, Colonel Mendez, how nice to see you again. And who is this gentleman?” Mark DeWitt asked politely.
“Cut the bullshit. You know who he is.”
DeWitt’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “I beg your pardon?”
Mendez stalked over until he was close to DeWitt’s chair. “I suggest you clear the room. Sir,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
DeWitt’s brows drew low—and then he jerked his head at his staff, who started moving toward the exits.
“Mr. Nelson should stay. And your Secret Service protection, of course. If you want them to hear this.”
DeWitt looked at the men in suits who stood nearby. “Outside, if you please.”
When everyone but Gabe Nelson was gone, DeWitt turned an inquiring eye on them. “What the fuck is this about, Colonel?”
“I think you know.” Fury lashed through him, coating him with ice and hate. But he had to do this right or it wouldn’t stick.
“No, I don’t. What do you want?”
“My command. I want my command back and my name cleared. And President Campbell’s name by association. Your plan won’t work, Mr. Vice President.” Because no matter how much he might despise the man in the office, he respected the office itself. This man was the veep. For now.
He turned to Gabe Nelson. “We know where the false information on HOT’s servers came from. It came from a computer belonging to Mr. Nelson. He used his clearance—your clearance—to access the SIPRNet and download the program that Sergei Turov’s Open Sky network designed for you. You implicated me with your lies—and you compromised one of my teams.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” DeWitt said. “This is madness.”
But he didn’t look comfortable.
“Is it? My people have the evidence. The data entry point comes from Mr. Nelson’s IP address. I’m going to guess that you had him do your dirty work—and I imagine he’ll have the opportunity to say so in front of the congressional committee investigating HOT’s transgressions.”
DeWitt visibly paled. Gabe wouldn’t look at his boss, which told Mendez all he needed to know. The man would turn evidence if his back was against the wall.
“It’s unfortunate,” Ian added, “that Sergei Turov has been taken into custody by the Russians. I’m sure he might have some things to say about your association. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s going to all come out once the government manages to go through the paperwork and computers they’ve seized from his home and businesses.”
It wasn’t enough for Mendez, knowing what Turov had done to Kat, but it would have to be. If there was any justice, Turov would get a death sentence for his crimes.
“You’re a mercenary,” DeWitt hissed at Ian. “You don’t know anything.”
Ian shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. You should totally take that chance.”
“Here’s what you need to do, Mr. Vice President,” Mendez said. He waited while DeWitt focused a hate-filled stare on him. “Resign.”
DeWitt sputtered.
“I suggest you do it soon,” he added. “It’ll create a scandal, sure. But not as big a scandal as endless hearings and a jail sentence. Which you will get, I assure you.”
“I’m not resigning,” DeWitt ground out. “I’ve worked too hard to get where I am.”
“Your choice,” Mendez told him. “My guys are combing through Turov’s databases as we speak. What happens when they find out how he managed to intercept and capture a HOT squad on a top secret mission? He didn’t get lucky. He got information from someone with SCI access. That would be you.”
DeWitt didn’t look so good at the moment. He reached for his water glass and took a long drink. The ice clinked more than it should as he trembled. He set the glass down again. Folded his hands.
“You can’t prove any of this. It’s wild speculation—and I’m popular with the voters.”
“Yeah, you’re popular with the voters. But giving away the location of American soldiers to the Russian mafia? Allowing them to be captured? I think maybe that’s something even your base won’t forgive.” He shrugged. “Your decision though. I’ll be taking the evidence my team’s uncovered to the president and the justice department. What happens after that is up to you.”
Chapter 43
A week and a half later…
Kat was tired of the hospital. She wasn’t in the same hospital, but it was still a medical facility and she was confined to it. After her stay in Moscow, she’d been transferred to a facility in Washington DC. It was a swanky place, if you could call a hospital swanky. She had a private room—and it wasn’t stark white. It was decorated with posh furnishings and probably the fanciest hospital bed ever made.
She was lying in it, but she wanted out. She had started to push herself up to go for a walk around the room when the door opened and a doctor entered.
He was her regular doctor, a nice youn
ger man who smiled a lot and had gentle fingers when he probed at her wound. He was holding a piece of paper and frowning.
“What’s up, Doc?” She was old enough to remember a cartoon rabbit who’d said that line. It cracked her up every time she got to say it.
He came over to her bedside, smiling gently. “Got some interesting results here, Miss Kasharin,” he said, waving the paper.
“Oh?” She didn’t like the sound of that. Not even a little.
“It seems… Well, you appear to be pregnant.”
The air whooshed from her lungs. It took her a long moment to speak. “But… I’m forty-three! And I have an implant!”
He chuckled. “Well, it’s really early yet, but you have pregnancy hormones in your urine, and they’re doubling at a nice rate. And forty-three isn’t too old to get pregnant, Miss Kasharin. If you’re having regular periods, you can get pregnant at any age.”
“And the implant?”
“No method of birth control is one hundred percent effective, I’m afraid.”
She was stunned into silence. How the hell was she going to tell Johnny Mendez that she was pregnant and he was the only possibility? After everything they’d been through together, she was just happy he was still talking to her.
He’d come to see her a couple of times since she’d been here. Mostly he was working, though he called when he couldn’t make it. Sometimes she woke up and he was sitting by her bed. Those were the days she was happiest.
They didn’t talk about the future. She wasn’t surprised by that because she knew there couldn’t really be a future. Sure, she was here in an American hospital, getting the finest care possible, but that didn’t mean anybody would forget who or what she was when this was over.
She was still Russian. She’d worked for the Federal Security Service and the mafia, and now she was a mercenary. Not a glowing reference for the position of girlfriend to a guy who commanded a top secret US military unit.
“There are options,” Doc Carter was saying. “But there’s time to think about that yet.”
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