Of course, that very but was also the reason he loved her. Probably why he’d fallen in love with her, even in college. Because she understood him, and the way he thought, and how it felt to be driven by something bigger than himself. To want to make a difference on the landscape of the world.
Which brought him to the big, flashing, neon-red reason…Yanna wasn’t a Christian.
So he’d kissed her one last time because deep inside, he couldn’t stop himself, and he knew that this was it.
After they found Elena, he would never see her again. It simply hurt too much. Tore huge chunks out of his heart every time he got near her. Every time they had a cyber conversation. After all these years, and especially the past few days, he was surprised he could still breathe, could still function.
Well, he couldn’t. Not really. Evidenced by the fact that here he was, sitting out on a stakeout in a monkey suit and a beautiful woman in his arms rather than focusing on the party now spilling out into the night on the yacht. Kwan might have danced away, right under his nose while David was caught in the expression in Yanna’s beautiful brown eyes.
She was a distraction and would always be one. And that could never be good for either of them. Which made him realize just how much he needed to stay away from her.
But he’d take the mental snapshot of her in his arms with him wherever he went. And he’d hope for happiness for her. God, please help me let this woman go.
Finally, finally, Vicktor had made it out of American customs and passport control, and thankfully they only asked him three times what medical conference he was attending. And his specialty. He knew this from before, when he’d been Vladimir Zaitsev on previous trips around the world. But thankfully, Yanna had done her homework—because despite her worry over her sister, she was a professional, and yes, there was a medical conference in Seattle. This weekend.
He wanted to kiss her, or at least hug her really tight when passport control passed Vladimir Zaitsev through. Forty-eight hours—they stamped it loud and ominous on his visa.
He went out into the sunshine—or relative sunshine since the afternoon shadows hung over the terminal. A taxi rolled by, but he ignored it, pulled out his cell phone and looked at the number of missed calls. Four. And one voice mail.
Gracie, of course, but she sounded strange in the recording. Like she might have just been crying. And the I really have to talk to you didn’t help.
Yeah, him too. He pushed Save, then speed-dialed her number. The phone rang and rang and finally went over to voice mail.
For a second, the option of leaving a message stymied him. What was he supposed to say? Gracie, hi, you sounded weird on telephone so I decided to forge a passport and hop a plane and check on you? Suddenly, he felt like an idiot. An ice-age-sized, insecure, do-you-really-love me-please-please kind of idiot. He stood there in the pickup lane of the airport, breathing in the exhaust, the cool air, the smell of desperate smokers, and knew he’d really gone overboard this time.
You don’t always have to fix everything. Sometimes I just want you to listen. How many times had he heard that from Gracie? Now her words made him wince.
Uh, yes, he did have to fix it. He just wasn’t wired to watch his woman struggle without stepping in. And then the Yanna thing happened, and seeing her in trouble had stirred up the past and the Wolf and how Gracie had walked face-first into danger without a clue, and how he’d nearly lost her, and his heart suddenly stood up and did the speaking for his brain.
He couldn’t just turn around and get back on a plane.
Yet all at once that seemed like a really good idea. Because he imagined the scenario when Gracie realized what he’d done.
You’re here? Oh, she’d be glad to see him—or at least act like it, because that was Gracie. Sweet and polite and a terrible liar. One of the worst. Which meant he’d see right through her act to—I have a stalker fiancé who thinks I can’t manage on my own or take care of myself.
And wouldn’t that make her even more anxious to marry him?
Maybe Vicktor should face the fact that he’d overreacted. In a huge someone-please-hit-me-before-I-do-this-again kind of way. He had a vague memory of Roman trying to talk him out of coming. Very vague. He’d buy Roman a blow-horn when he got home.
It was just a part of Vicktor’s cellular makeup to care—really care—about the people in his life. But perhaps this was a case of, well, overcaring.
In fact, his being here had more to do with him and the fact that he simply couldn’t take a full breath without her. However, maybe she could. Maybe she didn’t need him at all.
He’d have to live with that. “Uh, Gracie, it’s Vicktor,” he said, finally, into the phone. “I’m…in… America.”
Then, because he didn’t really know what else to say but the obvious I love you, he hung up.
Vicktor stood there, wishing he was more like David, who did his job without freaking out about the woman he loved. David always knew what to do and how to do it right.
But Gracie had rocked Vicktor’s world, kept him off balance.
Vicktor tapped his phone on his leg. He could probably call one of his old Russian cop friends he’d worked with in Seattle, like his pal Alex. But most of them had taken the oath, become American citizens, and agreed to certain allegiances. Like, turning in people in their country illegally.
Vicktor wouldn’t be seeing any of his old cop cronies on this junket.
A smart guy would have probably thought further ahead than the plane ticket.
Maybe…Mae…
Mae was different. She had shown up in Russia a few times under the radar. And wasn’t she living with Gracie? Maybe he could break the news to Mae, who could then sort of explain to Gracie just why her fiancé was in town…to save her life… Oh boy. And then she and Gracie could have a good laugh and he could be the easy brunt of the joke—Mr. Overkill—and come in with his hat in his hands and Gracie might even find it cute. Endearing?
The hope clusters were about the last active brain cells working in his head, apparently.
He opened his phone and found Mae’s number. He had to reenter it in American code, then pushed Enter.
She picked up on the second ring—there went his faint hope that all cell phones around the world were switching over to voice mail— “Hello?”
“Mae it’s—” Oh man, even with Mae, the words got stuck.
“Vicktor? I can’t believe it! Gracie’s been trying to get a hold of you for two days! You just disappeared off the planet. But she’s in trouble—big trouble.”
Big trouble. Vicktor wanted to put his fist into something—maybe the cement pole, however that would only make matters worse—but yes, he knew it, he knew it.
He swallowed back another I knew it and managed, “Shto Slyochilas?” Whoops, he hated when he switched to Russian because it sort of highlighted his panic.
“It’s a long story, but she got involved with what we think is a human trafficking ring—”
“Sokolov, we know.”
“We—who’s we?”
“Roman and I, and well, David and Yanna too, but that’s another side of the story that you really don’t want to know about right now. Gracie texted me, and Roman contacted a buddy in his office, and they’ve been watching this guy. Apparently he’s a heavy hitter on their bad-guy list. So I don’t know who she’s mixed up with, but I’m not feeling good about this.”
“Well, you were right because this Sokolov guy is bad news, and we got Gracie’s friend away, but now Gracie’s disappeared—”
He wanted to hit things again. “Disappeared?”
“Yeah, after we rescued Ina, I thought they would round back to the hospital, only that was a long time ago and I haven’t the foggiest idea where Gracie and Ina might be.”
Calm down, take a breath. He moved to the side of the terminal wall, watching people as they flagged down rides or dialed their cell phones. “I’m not completely tracking with you—you rescued who?”
&n
bsp; “Just…this girl. What is of key importance here is that Gracie is gone. And I don’t know where she is. Has she ever mentioned anything to you—a place where she’d go if she wanted to drop off the planet, a place that is remote…I don’t know…anywhere.”
“Did you call her?”
“No, I thought I’d use my psychic powers, maybe get a newspaper and look up the horoscope—of course I called her! Until I remembered that her phone was left in the hotel after the fire alarm went off.”
Probably he needed to sit down. “Was she hurt? Please, tell me she wasn’t hurt—”
“What, no I don’t think so, I mean, yeah, Sokolov pushed her, but I got there before he could—”
“In the fire, Mae!”
“What fire—oh, no, no fire. Just the alarm. That was Gracie’s brilliant idea. I got away, but I think he followed her, or maybe had someone else follow her—”
“So someone is after her?”
“Yeah, probably more after Ina, but now that Gracie was there—twice—he’s probably figured out—”
“Sokolov?”
“Or maybe someone who works for him, but whatever the case, I’m getting worried.”
Yeah, him too. Only she hadn’t flown halfway across the world on a gut hunch only to have that hunch confirmed. In epic scary-movie proportions.
God was on his side.
“Calm down, Mae, let me think. Gracie…does she have friends here?”
“We’re talking Gracie. Yeah, she’s got friends. But she wouldn’t go to them, not if she might put them in danger.”
He could agree with that. There was pretty much nichevo Gracie wouldn’t do to protect her friends.
In that way, he supposed, they were a perfect fit.
“We were eventually supposed to meet back here, at the hospital—”
“Why are you at the hospital? Are you hurt?” Before Gracie came along, Mae had been his world, and he didn’t just shrug that away. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s not me, it’s Yakov and Luba, but they’re going to be okay, too, if we can just find Ina and Gracie. The cops are here—including one of your old pals, Alex—and they’re talking to the Feds about witness protection for Yakov and Luba in exchange for their testimony, but first we have to find them.”
So much for Vicktor’s clandestine adventure in America.
Vicktor leaned against the cement pillar, his entire body feeling weak. “Okay, listen, we’re going to find them, I promise.”
The line went quiet. Then, “I’m sorry, are you…I mean…uh…I’m not trying to jump to any conclusions here but—”
“I’m in America. Standing here at the Seattle airport, but I’m here, well, let’s just say, under the radar, so don’t react. I don’t need Alex to know.”
“Oh.”
Perfect. That’s right, Mae, stop talking, glance at him. Way to be sneaky. “He’s looking at you right now, isn’t he?”
“Uh, yeah.” Her voice dropped, but only for a second, and now in a voice that telegraphed, No, I’m not trying to hide anything, she said, “Well, do you know where I could find her?”
“I’m thinking.” Vicktor blew out a breath, ran his hand through his grimy hair. He’d pulled out American cash from an ATM, had enough to rent a car. Walking back inside, he stopped at a map of Seattle. He’d lived here for a while, years ago, and collected vivid memories of hiking through Olympic National Park. Once he’d even headed west to Mount Rainier. He’d stared at it from a distance, thinking, yes, that must be paradise.
But he’d changed his mind since he’d met Gracie. Anywhere—he didn’t care where—was paradise as long as she was with him.
Paradise. Oh…
“I might have an idea. I’ll call you.”
“Vicktor—”
“I promise, I’ll call you.”
“Be careful. Please.”
Yeah, well, tell that to the woman he loved.
17
Yanna finally fell asleep against David, her head smashed up against his chest, then his lap, and didn’t wake until the sun began to dent the horizon. David shook her awake and helped her onto the back of the bike. And drove her back to Trish and Cho’s house.
Where she crawled into bed, shivering, and fell into a hard, dreamless sleep.
Unfortunately, while she’d been pulling a Sleeping Beauty, David had briefed Roman, showered, and headed back out to Kwan’s lair.
Without her.
She was going to strangle him. Yanna, in a pair of Trish’s yoga pants and a T-shirt, stood on the roof overlooking a thousand other roofs with kitchen gardens overflowing with peppers and tomatoes in pots. Her arms folded over her chest, she wasn’t sure where to put the anger that wanted to seep out.
Maybe she should scream.
Because she’d finally figured it out.
David had said he respected her. At the time, she’d found it sort of sweet, a sort of peace offering after her abysmal decision to go after Kwan. But his kiss last night hadn’t been filled with passion, but…pity.
Goodbye, even.
And now she realized it was just a lousy way to say, I’ll put you in a tower and throw away the key. A man who respected her, who believed in her wouldn’t leave her behind like a three-year-old while he tailed the man who had kidnapped her sister. And, apparently, it was a fraternity, because Roman had gone right along with him.
Clearly, she’d have to strangle Roman too.
So wrapped up in her fury, she didn’t hear Trish approach from the open door to the terrace. “Yanna, how are you feeling?”
Yanna looked at the woman, so cute in her little pink maternity top, her short caramel-brown hair blowing in the slight wind.
She didn’t want to answer that, so she shrugged.
“I know you’re upset about not going along—David said you would be. But he was worried about you. He said you were tired.” She touched Yanna, but Yanna shifted away. “He has the cell phone.”
“I’m not calling him on a stakeout.”
Trish looked as if she’d been slapped. “Sorry. I agreed that you needed some time to rest. You looked worn pretty thin when you came in last night.”
Oh great, another person telling her how she felt, what she needed. She tried to smile at Trish, something to soothe the fracture between them, but it didn’t work. Trish didn’t smile back, but stepped forward, past Yanna, to stare down at the road, the scooter traffic. The wind chimes caught, tinkled their sound across Yanna’s nerves.
“He’s only trying to keep you safe and help you find your sister.”
“I know. It’s just that…I didn’t come to Taiwan looking for help,” Yanna snipped. Although, what would she have done if David hadn’t been here? She hadn’t spent enough time thinking about that. About what he’d given up for her—his mission. His goals. Three months of disgusting undercover work stalking Kwan and his pals. She didn’t even want to think about what he’d had to do to earn a trip to Kwan’s yacht.
And now, after everything, they had even less than they had before. Before she had some sort of unfounded, ethereal hope.
Now, she just had reality.
“Sometimes we need help, even if we don’t think so. Even when we don’t want it,” Trish said quietly.
Yanna glanced at Trish, who picked up a watering can, went over to the outdoor faucet to fill it. “Besides, I think David has some deep feelings for you.”
Not enough, however. She folded her arms again. “Here’s the thing, Trish,” Yanna said. “David might love me—might be crazy about me—but he can’t act on it. For lots of reasons, mostly good ones, he constantly pulls away from me.” She turned around, facing Trish, who was watering her tomatoes.
“I’m okay with that. I mean, yes, I…care about David. But I was living with reality, the fact that I will probably be alone for the rest of my life, or at least that David and I will never be anything, when hello, here he steps back into my life. I don’t want him, I don’t need him. I just
want to find my sister.”
There, that felt good. Like pulling a knife from her bleeding heart.
Or not.
Trish moved on to the next plant. Examined the leaves.
“Okay, maybe I’m not okay with it.” She didn’t have to close her eyes to remember David’s arms around her, remember his breath on her neck, remember… “Maybe I am dying a little bit inside, but there is nothing I can do about it. David is a soldier—he always will be. And he doesn’t have room in his life for a relationship. At least not one with me.”
Trish looked up, gave her a strange look. Sighed.
“What?”
“Are you sure that’s why he pulls away from you? Could it be because you don’t believe in the most important part of his life?”
Yanna frowned. But the words zeroed in and just about made her flinch. Trish was right. David wasn’t just a soldier, he was a dreamer—the kind that made other people want to believe in his dreams too.
“David is all about fairytales and ‘God will watch our back’—but I’ve had an up-close-and-personal look at the world and I…I just don’t believe God cares about people. Not like that. And that seems to be an issue for David.”
“Do you know why that’s an issue, Yanna?”
She stared at Trish, then sighed, turned away.
“Because David believes that this life matters beyond the now. That there is an eternity out there, and that the things he does here and now have impact on the future, his eternal future.”
See, a dreamer. Yanna stared out to the beautiful tropical island sky. So it might be nice to believe that yes, someone—someone big and powerful like God—cared. Was on her side. Watched her back, like David claimed. That the things she did mattered beyond now. That her life mattered.
For a second, she let those thoughts find a home. Wiggle inside.
Perhaps…maybe she wanted to believe, just a little.
She wasn’t sure why. Possibly because she’d always wondered what made David the man he was—a man of passion and strength. A man who hoped. Who didn’t surrender.
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