The Spy Wore Red

by Wendy Rosnau

  “You’re going to be all right, Adolf,” she said softly. “I know that. Dr. Paul has an excellent reputation. He says you’ll pull through because you’re too stubborn not to. I know you can be very determined, and in this case that’s a good thing.” She touched his arm. “Enough talk from me. What you need is sleep, so close your eyes and don’t worry about anything. I’ll see to what’s important to you. I’ll see to Johanna’s roses.”

  It was dark except for the glow of the fireplace when Bjorn returned to the loft. Nadja was in bed, and he was glad for that. He didn’t want to talk anymore.

  What he needed to do was think.

  He stripped off his coat, then his sweater and jeans. He ached to sit in the tub, and managed without getting his thigh wound too wet. Several times he glanced over to the bed, but Nadja hadn’t moved. She was exhausted, he knew, and it was best if she slept straight through till morning. Better for her and for him.

  He located his duffel bag and removed his shaving kit. He pulled out his razor and a hand mirror and carried them to the fireplace. With the aid of a small table lamp, and with a towel clinging to his hips, he scraped off the stubble on his chin, then put the kit back in his duffel.

  He returned to the fireplace to toss another log on the glowing hot coals, and became lost in thought after that—until he heard the mattress squeak. When he turned around he found Nadja on her back, the comforter on the floor, and the sheet draped lower along her stomach.

  He let himself look, let himself remember what it was like to touch her—to feel her around him, and have her scent brand his skin.

  She shifted again and the sheet moved lower. He focused on the tattoo, again questioning the feminine design. He suddenly felt her gaze on him and he locked eyes with her.

  Caught in the act, he said, “Sorry.”

  She sat up slowly, slid her long legs off the bed. Standing with the sheet shielding her naked body, she said, “I shouldn’t have told you. I thought…”

  “What did you think?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted someone else to know the truth. Someone outside my circle.”

  “You’re no freak, Nadja. You’re a beautiful woman. Sexy as hell.”

  “Prove it.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  As much as he wanted to recreate what they’d had in Vienna it would be a mistake. “You know I want to.”

  “Then what’s stopping you?”

  She dropped the sheet.

  “It would be a mistake to let this go any further.”

  “Would it really be a mistake? If you think so then you’re not remembering Vienna in the same way I remember it.”

  “You were the one who left, remember?”

  “Yes, I did leave. Actually, I ran. I had never—”

  “Never what?”

  “Felt so frightened. It was amazing…us. Frighteningly amazing.”

  Yes, they had been amazing together. All he had to do was close his eyes and he was there again, back in Vienna in that shower, succumbing to the power…the power of Nadja Stefn taking him someplace he’d never visited before in his life.

  Every man fought against it, hoped that he would never feel it—that moment when he knew he was caught. Not just physically, but emotionally as well.

  “It was too much, you know,” she whispered as she came toward him. “And then…”

  “Not enough,” Bjorn finished.

  She stopped six feet from him. “I had never made love for the sake of making love until that night. And not since. You can believe that or not.”

  “Are you saying I’m the only man alive who knows what you like?”

  His words sent her eyes past him to the fire. “It’s true—all the others are dead.”

  “So I should feel lucky that you ran that night…otherwise I would be dead?”

  She looked at him. “You mock me.”

  “No, I don’t.” The idea that he was the only living man who knew her intimately turned him on more than he had been already. “Honestly, I like the fact that all the other men are dead. I just can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you had stayed.”

  “I would never have killed you.”

  “Because I wasn’t a target.”

  “No, you weren’t my target, but at the time I didn’t know if I was yours.”

  That news surprised him.

  Like him, she had recklessly gotten caught up in the moment. The truth was, he had been so crazy to have her that night he’d been downright stupid. Careless.

  Honestly, he couldn’t guarantee that he would have been quick enough to stop her if she had raised a gun to him.

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  “Are we talking about Vienna or tonight?”

  “I’m talking about tonight, before you walked out. Don’t say you don’t know. A man like you always knows why he does what he does.”

  “I kissed you tonight because I was curious.”

  “Curious?”

  “I wanted to make sure.”

  “Make sure of what?”

  “That I was remembering everything clearly. Or if I’d embellished Vienna over the years in my mind.”

  “And?”

  “And it felt good to be there again.”

  “You could feel better than good. Want to? We could use the bed this time.”

  Bjorn smiled. “I know I said I would have you before this mission was over, but I’ve rethought that. I think one too many times could be the death of me.”

  She moved back to the bed, swept up a blanket and wrapped it around her. “Then it bothers you?”

  “Bothers me? What are you talking about?”

  “What I am. You didn’t know what business I was in that night, but you do now. Having trouble rising to the challenge?” She looked over her shoulder, lowered her eyes to the towel wrapped around his waist. “No, it doesn’t appear to be a problem. You’re physically aroused, but in here—” she tapped the side of her head “—are you disgusted by what I am? Or is it the leg?”

  “I’m not disgusted, and I don’t have a problem with the chip being the reason you’re on your feet.”

  She didn’t look like she believed him. It was important that she did. Bjorn closed the distance and turned her to face him. “This isn’t why I chose you for this mission.”

  “I chose the mission,” she reminded him. “I forced your hand, remember?”

  She took one of his hands and slipped it inside the blanket. Bjorn moaned and pulled her to him. She went willingly, let go of the blanket and fused herself to him, crushing her full naked breasts to the warm wall of his bare chest.

  He bent and covered her mouth, kissed her slow and deep. Then deeper still. She opened her mouth. He used his tongue.

  He felt her nipples like hot stones where they touched him. He heard himself groan low in his throat, and with his surrender, she in turn surrendered.

  It was happening again, so much heat and pent-up need that neither could break the force that claimed them.

  “Don’t stop,” she sighed, shuddering violently when he backed off to catch his breath. “Please don’t question this. Don’t make me beg. Touch me.”

  It would be his pleasure to touch her. In touching her, she touched him. She didn’t realize that, but it was the way it worked with her. She had the power.

  He had the power to make her lose control. One kiss. A single stroke of his hand. It had worked that way in Vienna, and it was the same here. There was just too much going on between them, underneath the surface, to back away.

  He dipped his head and sent a dozen kisses along her jaw and down her neck, and Nadja felt weak in his arms. Weak and strong at the same time. How did he do that?

  She snuggled closer, tugged off his towel and worked her body against his cock, gyrating her hips. Making him moan, and catch his breath.

  “We’re going too fast,” he said, then lifted her.

  Nadja curle
d her legs around his waist, and he slid inside of her. He was pumping hard and fast before they reached the bed.

  “Let it come,” she sighed as he began to climax after a solid thrust.

  “Can’t stop.”

  “Don’t try.” Nadja curled herself around him and drew him in deeper. Holding him there.

  But it was only the beginning. They both knew it.

  Both knew they needed sleep, but they needed each other more.

  Besides, there would be time to sleep. The storm that had caused Bjorn and Nadja to seek shelter at Nordzum was about to stall over the Kitzbuheler Alpen.

  But for now the storm was the last thing on Nadja’s mind. She lay watching Bjorn sleep, putting to memory all they had shared throughout the night. Enjoying a chance to stare at his handsome face and study his rugged features.

  She liked his hair. Liked that it was longer than that of most men she knew. She decided that his looks fit his lovemaking. It was edgy and challenging. Addicting. It’s what set him apart from all the other men. No man touched her like Bjorn. He knew every spot on her body that wanted to be touched.

  To speak of love was foolish, so she wouldn’t. But she had never felt anything remotely close to the way she felt in this man’s arms. So if love was real, then, yes, maybe this was love that she was feeling. But she wasn’t going to examine it any more than that. It was too fragile. Too dangerous.

  She sat up and straddled him. He stirred and as he began to grow aroused, she angled her body to envelop him. When he felt her and opened his eyes, saw her astride him, he arched his hips, seating her deeper.

  “You’re not afraid I have a gun under the pillow?” she whispered.

  “No. But if you do, and you plan on using it, wait a bit. This feels too good to be cut short.”

  He smiled and she saw no fear in his eyes. No need to check beneath the pillow.

  “How’s your leg?” she asked.

  “Fine. How’s yours?”

  “The circulation has definitely improved. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He fastened his eyes on her breasts. “You look good riding.”

  “Men like to see jiggling breasts, and enthusiasm.”

  “And am I about to see both?”

  She began to move on him. “Yes.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “We shouldn’t be able to do this again. It’s unnatural.”

  “Who says it’s unnatural?”

  “Three times in three hours?”

  “With the right partner anything is possible. Didn’t you know that?”

  Nadja had never believed in destiny. She had always believed that a person made their own fate. But if it was true, if people came into your life for a specific reason, then she knew why Bjorn had entered hers.

  His hands slid over her thighs and she came out of her musing.

  “Where did you go, honey?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “You sure?” He gripped her hips, pulled her forward. Back.

  Nadja didn’t answer, she couldn’t. Bjorn was touching her again, and she simply couldn’t think past that.

  “You were born in Copenhagen?” Nadja asked the next evening.

  “I think so, but I’m not sure.”

  They were seated in front of the fireplace on the fur rug, wrapped in blankets. Outside the snow continued to fall, and there was no way they were going to be able to leave Nordzum until it let up. Bjorn had been listening to the weather reports, and it sounded like the storm was expected to stall out for another twenty-four hours.

  “You’re not sure where you were born?”

  “I don’t remember much growing up except that I hated the orphanage I was in. Later, once I was on my own, I was preoccupied with trying to stay warm and fed.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Bjorn studied her. They had been breathing each other’s air, cooped up in this room for two days straight. He knew her body inside and out, and she knew his just as well. They were connected now, in a way that he’d never been connected with anyone. And yet it felt too new to be comfortable. In many ways they were still strangers.

  “You must have been lonely.”

  He didn’t answer her, though it was true, he had been lonely as a boy, and as a man, too. It was a kind of comfort zone for him—what he knew.

  “How did you survive it?”

  “Eventually someone took me in.”

  “How old were you?”

  “About twelve. I ran away from the orphanage at seven. With two other kids. They were a little older. We lived on the streets together. Looked out for one another.”

  He didn’t like talking about how he’d existed in Copenhagen. It had been hell on the streets, but it hadn’t been much better at Anna’s place. He’d seen more and done more in her whorehouse than any kid ever should. And that’s why he would never judge Nadja and what she’d done to stay on her feet. At least she had a cause behind who and what she’d become. For him it had been totally self-serving.

  “Unwanted kids,” he mused. “They would be better off dead. Our mothers should have disposed of us before we were born.”

  “That’s horrible. You can’t really believe that. Look at you. Who you are.”

  “Who am I?”

  “An Onyxx rat fighter. You help people. Fix the world’s problems.”

  Bjorn chuckled. “A regular superhero, that’s me. What else do I do…to you?”

  She paused, then said, “You feed my soul.”

  He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “So tell me how you came to be at Quest.”

  The question brought immediate tension to the lines in her lovely face. She pulled back from his hand and drew her blanket more securely around herself. “You know how. Once Kovar realized that I wasn’t going to make a comeback on the slopes, he wanted revenge.”

  “On you?”

  “Yes. He thought I threw the race that day. That I deliberately lost control.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “I had asked him to give me some time off. My life with Kovar was simple and single-minded. He lived to see me ski. It’s all I did from the time I was eight until I had the accident at nineteen. I skied for my grandfather’s pleasure, not my own. I was tired. After the accident when the use of my leg was gone, he wanted to punish me for taking it all away from him. And he found a way to do it.”

  “How?”

  “He gave me back the use of my leg, let me get comfortable living again, then gave me a choice. Become his pawn in the intelligence world, or give back the bionic chip and return to a wheelchair. To this day he likes to threaten me with the promise that he’ll have it removed if I don’t do what he says. Of course life…walking and feeling whole can become an addiction. I won’t lie, I’m hooked on the alternative. I can’t ever go back no matter what, and Kovar knows it.”

  Bjorn swore.

  “I feel like a prisoner sometimes just waiting to be set free. But it will never happen. I—”

  “Shh…”

  Bjorn shrugged off his blanket. Naked, he pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her and stroked her, shoved her blanket off her shoulders.

  It started out with just a taste, but soon they were sprawled on the fur in front of the fire making another memory.

  It didn’t have to be this way. You could have been the best, Nadja. We worked so hard, you and I. You know how I feel about human weakness. And so we will forget about the skiing because we must, and focus on another passion close to my heart. You will have a choice. You can remain on your feet by agreeing to support my cause, or you can decline the offer. The choice is yours. Life or death. It makes no difference to me. You see I no longer love you. I can’t after what you’ve done. But I can and will punish you, over and over again. Make your choice.

  She had no idea why she was remembering that awful night, or why she’d told Bjorn the intimate details of her sorry life. Maybe it was being stuck in this small space that was making h
er feel so vulnerable, or maybe it had been the physical intimacy they had shared that had loosened her tongue.

  For three days it had snowed nonstop, and for three days she and Bjorn had hardly left their bed. They ordered room service, and it was delivered by a young man named Gil who came on a snowmobile wearing an insulated parka and a knowing grin. They talked for hours, played cards, and caught up on their sleep spooned together as one.

  It was now the fourth day, and the weather was changing. Standing at the window, looking out over the snow-covered mountains, Nadja knew her time with Bjorn had come to an end.

  She left the window and returned to the bed, slipping beneath the comforter to snuggle close to the length of his body. She listened to his even breathing, all the while enjoying the feel of him next to her. He was lightly dusted with hair, and she’d noticed a number of scars on his body. She’d asked about them and he’d told her stories about his escapades as a young boy on the docks in Copenhagen. Some were funny, and they had laughed together.

  She drew the sheet back and looked at the length of his muscle-hard legs, then his firm butt and smooth back. She had never slept with a man all night long. Had never woken up in a pair of strong arms, or made love all afternoon. Until three days ago. She would remember, she vowed—all of it.

  Snuggled in their room away from the complications of the world, she’d almost allowed herself to believe that anything was possible. But she knew better. It seemed appropriate, however, that she have this time with him. The guilt had lifted, and she was prepared to face whatever she must, once she found Ruger. She was no longer going to question why things happened.

  Ruger was right, it had all been part of God’s plan. What that meant was that she and Bjorn had been destined to meet that night in Vienna. And what had happened afterward had been destiny, too.

  At dawn, with a heavy heart, Nadja slipped away from Bjorn’s warm body. She made two phone calls, then left him sleeping on his stomach, the sheet riding low, exposing his memorable ass.

  The storm had finally blown itself out. The roads were being plowed open, and although the air was crisp, the sun was out.

  It was a perfect morning for a little target practice.