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onto the bed, he kissed her, pushing her back down. “Kaitie lass, don’t pull that with me
when I know you feel the same way.”
Her grin was the same it had been since the day he met her, part sheepish, part
seductive.
“Well….” She kissed him. “One of us has to think rationally.”
He grinned, and whispered what he wanted to do. Her laughter rubbed the silk of
her gown against him, and he decided to show her.
* * * *
Darya skipped along side Rori as they walked down the hallway. The carpet
tickled her feet. A door opened and the other little girl came out, dressed to go
somewhere, she said something to them and then raced down the hallway and stairs.
Darya looked up at Rori and wondered where the other girl was going.
She knew they were going swimming. She’d gone yesterday and seen the pool and
the other nice lady had given her this pretty suit. It was purple and had sparkles on it.
Down the stairs, to the back of the house, passed the hallway that lead to the
kitchen. She sniffed. Waffles. She loved waffles and she even got them with strawberries
here and lots of whipped cream.
They were going swimming. She knew how to swim. A fogged memory of her
jumping to Papa in the water, floated unattached through her.
She shook it off and hurried Rori along, pulling on her hand.
Rori shook her head, smiling and said something… “….down.”
Down? She thought of that word, tried to whisper it … d. duh. Duh-own. The
door to the pool room was ahead.
She ran and tried to reach it.
Rori laughed and reached for her hand, but she darted free and ran across the tiles
and jumped into the pool.
As the water closed over her head, she heard a yell.
* * * *
Ian jerked his head up at the holler and saw a flash go into the pool
Darya!
He took off across the pool. God.
His heart slammed in his chest. Rori dove into the pool.
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Where the hell was she?
A dark head, slick as a seal, popped up right in front of him, just as he reached
her, and her grinning face met his. Water dripped off her nose.
A delighted laughter chimed out of her and bounced around the confined area.
His heart still slamming against his ribs, he grabbed her to him. “You can swim.”
Rori broke the surface. “Ian!”
“I’ve got her.”
Darya leaned back and wiggled out of his arms. He let her go, cautiously and
watched her swim to the side, dip under and flip. She popped up giggling.
The sight eased everything inside him.
Rori swam up to him. “She can bloody swim. That would have been nice to know
before I died of a heart attack.”
Smiling, he pulled her to him and kissed her, keeping one eye on Darya pulling
herself out, only to turn back around and jump back into the water.
“Damn, I panicked,” Rori muttered, shoving against him. “I never panic.”
Laughing, he pulled her with him, wiping water out of his face. “Kids apparently
are a different ballgame.”
“Wouldn’t know.”
He thought of what she’d told him last night. The fact she’d stayed with him. “I
thought you’d be tired and still asleep.”
She stood waist deep in water, the one piece swim suit molding her like a leopard
print glove. His gut tightened and he stepped towards her.
She backed up. “No.”
He grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I left mine upstairs,” she said shoving water at him. “Which is precisely where
you should have left yours.”
He laughed, grabbed her wrists and jerked her to him. “I never leave my sense of
adventure anywhere.”
She wrapped her arms around him as they stood in the center of the pool. “Well it
better currently be left at one location.”
“Jealous? That just warms my heart to hear you say.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why does your family have two pools?”
Trying to change the subject…
“Probably because one can’t swim outside in the winter and they wanted an
indoor pool bigger than the one outside. I have no idea. Don’t care.”
She shook her head and he reached up, running his hand over the short hair. “Your
hair is shorter than mine. And it is just so bloody sexy.”
Her eyes narrowed and then cleared.
Darya yelled to him. “Ian!”
He jerked around at the sound of his name from the child at the side. Slightly
disjointed, not a smooth sound, but precious all the same.
“Blimey, she speaks.” Rori let go of him and he swam out deeper, standing in
front of Darya who stood on the side.
She grinned and he realized he hadn’t ever seen her this happy. This total child
exuberance over something as simple as jumping in the water. He wanted to see this
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excitement, this pleasure in her all the time.
She leaned down, bent her knees and touched the pool edge on either side of her
toes. Then, she pushed off and dove cleanly into the water, swam to him, and popped up
giggling again.
“Maybe I should put her in swimming and diving lessons,” he thought aloud.
“Next you’ll know,” Rori said, from her perch on the side of the pool, her thighs
wet from the water, “she’ll be in ballet lessons or some such.”
He shook his head and met Rori’s gaze. “I was thinking more karate.”
“Thank God. Ballet is beyond me.” Then she shook her head. “I think tae-kwando
would be better.”
He looked at Darya smiling up at him and nodded. “You may be right. We could
start teaching her now.”
Rori nodded then frowned.
God, they sounded like….
Rori smiled, stood and dove in.
Ian shook his head and focused on Darya. He tossed her high and caught her, her
giggles belly deep and heartening, even as they were alien to his ears. But he didn’t care.
He wanted to hear them again and again.
Ian held Darya in his arms as they swam in the indoor pool. He held her under her
arms and swung her through the water in a circle around him. Water spraying Rori, who
splashed them back.
Her giggle tickled inside him and he wanted to hear it again. And again.
“You’re going to make her sick you keep going in circles like that,” Rori told as
she began her own lap across the pool
“Get your workout out of the way and then you can play.”
She glared at him and took off.
This time, Ian tossed Darya in the air, then caught just as she hit the water,
splashing water up above his head.
He was leaving in two days and knew right now, he didn’t care. Right now was
about now.
A woman he was probably in love with swimming laps, a daughter who barely
spoke English, brought to life hope in him he’d long ago forgot existed. This was what
was real.At least for the present.
He didn’t want to think about tomorrow.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
November 17; 7:03 p.m.
The dinner was quiet. Brayden and his family were leaving in the morning for a
trip to Louisia
na to see Christian’s family. He made certain they were taking Tanner with
them. He and his brother had argued, but with the threat of just sticking them in a damn
safe house, he’d finally won.
Aiden and Jesslyn were thinking of flying out to Colorado. He was trying to talk
them into it. But then John needed to go and he needed John with him or maybe here
when he left.
He still hadn’t told anyone he was leaving.
The doorbell rang, and silverware clinked against china as everyone turned to the
doorway.
Ian shook his head. Pete stood there, his expression grim. “I apologize for
interrupting your dinner” He nodded to both of Ian’s parents. Then those eyes zeroed in
on him. “Something’s come up.”
Ian wiped his mouth, laid his napkin on the table and walked out of the room,
meeting Rori’s questioning look.
Again, they walked back to his father’s study. When the door was shut, Pete
wasted no time. “We need to move the date up a bit.”
Ian walked around the desk and sat down. “Why? I thought it was all set for this
weekend.”
Pete nodded and shoved his hands in his pocket. “It was, but with the leak, I
figured if we moved early, the chances of complications arising would be slim.”
Ian frowned. True.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Ian sat forward. “Tonight?”
Pete nodded.
Ian’s mind raced. There were still things to do, things to see to. Before he’d just
packed up and left anytime he needed to. But now?
Now he had Rori, Darya.…
The rest of his family.
He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “What time?”
Pete paced, seemingly lost in thought.
“Pete.”
“Oh, as soon as you’re ready. Can you dress here? And how long will it take?”
“To become,” he dropped his voice and added the accent back, “Dimitri
Petrolov.” He glanced at the clock on his father’s desk. Almost seven. “At least an hour. I
need to make my hair a bit longer.” At least he hadn’t shaved in two days. There was one
bright side to his migraine. He would look more the part of the hired hitman.
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“This is going to go smoothly,” Pete said.
“Pete, things can always go wrong, my friend.” How easily he could slide back
into lives he wanted to leave behind. “You waiting?”
Pete nodded.
“Then go to the dining room and get something to eat. God knows there’s
enough.” With that Ian hurried upstairs to his and Rori’s room. He took the black bag
down off the top shelf of the closet and walked to the bathroom.
Inside was a case. He opened it. To one side were pieces of hair. He hated hair
extensions. They took too damn long. He could go with the wig. He glanced at his watch.
He’d have to use the wig.
He pulled off his shirt, grabbed another from his closet and pulled it on. The tight
black teeshirt would do.
He pulled on the dark wigcap looking one way, then the other to make certain it
was straight. Next came the adhesive. He hated the stuff, but was left with little choice
unless he wanted to spend hours with the extensions. He’d rather use the water soluble
adhesive, but then he ran the risk of the wig coming off too soon.
He grabbed the wig, and slid it on, straightening it as he needed to, careful not the
get the longer strands of dark hair in the adhesive. That was always a bitch. Looking in
the mirror, he straightened the wig, and studied it.
It wasn’t a perfect match. His natural hair had fallen differently. Taking the
conditioning spritz, he sprayed the wig and tried to style it. The longer strands hung down
to his chin.
In the harsh lights of the bathroom, he saw his image. Another face. Another
person.
And he hated it.
He fisted his hands and leaned into the countertop, arms extended, his head
hanging down. The need to punch something rose up in him, but he shoved it away.
The vacation was nice, but this was life.
Ian took a deep breath and shook his head. Didn’t have time for this shit. Just get
the damn job done.
He straightened and stood, being critical of the image in the mirror. Dimitri
Petrolov.Dimitri Petrolov.
He relaxed his jaw, pulled his brows a bit more
Thinking of Elianya and Helliski, letting his mind float to Nero’s and things he’d
been ordered to do, he watched as Ian Kinncaid slid further and further away and Petrolov
started to take over.
“Dobry den,” he muttered into the mirror and rolled his shoulders. Shades. He
needed his shades. Black. He’d borrow John’s. They were the same brand Petrolov used.
“Dimitri Petrolov,” he said again, the accent as natural to him as it had been a
month ago.
And in several hours his jawline would be even darker. He stared hard at the
mirror. In the bedroom, he strapped his gun on, pulled on a jacket and a long black coat.
Back in the bathroom, he packed his bag back up, made certain there were other
wigs in the bottom of his makeup case, adhesive removal. Another passport.
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Extra gun, clip.
What was he forgetting?
He scanned the room. He crammed a change of clothing in his bag, and the zipper
ripped across the quiet room. On the nightstand was a computer printed photograph his
mother had taken that morning. He was holding Darya after their swim and both of them
were grinning from ear to ear. He should leave it, but…. The slick paper was cool against
his finger. He picked it up. To hell with it, he thought, and shoved it into his breast
pocket.
He was ready.
As he picked the bag up, he glanced in the corner at the full length mirror. There
was a reason he’d always hated mirrors.
The Reaper was back.
The hallway was quiet and as he passed Darya’s doorway, he stopped. He pushed
the door open, studying the lamp-lit room. He knew from something his mother said
today that this was now officially Darya’s room. Mom had already hired someone to
come in and paint it a periwinkle blue. She’d asked Rori who had looked panicked at the
talk of decorating. A smile caught him off guard.
God, he didn’t want to leave. But if he left now, if he pulled this off--maybe, just
maybe they wouldn’t have to leave later. He wouldn’t be running later, always looking
over his shoulder in case one of Viktor Hellinski’s men had found him. He wished he had
something to leave for Darya, something that said she was his and he’d be back, but
nothing came to mind.
Still holding his bag, he turned from the room and looked up.
Rori stood in the doorway, dressed in beige slacks and a dark brown, shape
hugging sweater.
She stared at him for a long moment.
“Going somewhere?” she asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door.
He opened his mouth.
“How long have you known?” she asked him.
“Since Monday, Tuesday, sometime. The hit was supposed to go down this
weekend, but with the leak, Pete moved it.”
She nodded, her jaw moving slightly out the
n in. “When were you going to tell
me?” Her eyes flashed at him.
“When I needed to,” he answered.
Rori looked at the man standing in front of her and wondered what the hell was
going on.
Gone was the laughing man from this morning, gone was the fading vulnerable
man she glimpsed last night, gone was the man who smiled at his mother so she wouldn’t
worry.
Here stood Dimitri Petrolov. Here stood the man she was hired to kill, who had
killed just as she had, who had seen things and been part of things she could all too well
image, the man who swore vengeance for the death of a young girl, and carried another
from hell.
And bloody hell if she wasn’t in love with the both of them.
They were one and the same, all rolled together.
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And then she realized it was a mirror, the opposite sex of herself.
She looked down and took a breath, still angry at him, but not nearly as angry as
she had been.
“When are you leaving?” she asked him, leaning back against the door.
He walked to her and dropped the bag. “ASAP.”
“Where are you going? What are you doing? Dimitri Petrolov is not a man to be
seen on the streets right now.” The anger was quickly coming back. She flexed her
fingers. “People are blowing up your places, men are out looking for you. Are you insane,
then?” She shook her head and walked around him, pacing to the French door, the sheers
curtains obstructing her view from the dead gardens and leaf laden outdoor pool.
“I’ll be back in a couple of days,” he said quietly behind her.
“I’m coming with you.” She turned to him and dared him to disagree.
He did, shaking his head. “You can’t.”
“You can’t stop me,” she said, her heart thumping. “What the hell am I supposed
to do, sit here and play nice with your family? What do I know about bleeding families?”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
He took a deep breath and raked his hand through the long strands of hair.
“That’s almost frightening,” she heard herself say.
“What?” he asked, confusion in his face.
“Is that a wig?” Then she shook her head. “Like that would bloody matter. I
honestly don’t know how you do it. You don’t just look different, you somehow become