by Alexia Adams
“I—”
“Trust me.” The words broke her. There was no one she could truly rely on. If she told Wolfe everything about her past, he’d dump her faster than Usain Bolt ran a hundred meters.
He held her all the way back to the hotel and practically carried her up to their suite. She’d thought she’d put all the anger and sadness behind her. But seeing her mother again had brought it all back—the pain of abandonment, the sense of failure, the gnawing emptiness.
Once in the room, Wolfe handed her a glass of whiskey and sat beside her, his hand caressing her back.
“If you need to cry, I’ll hold you.”
She slung back the whiskey and gazed into his gray eyes. Anyone who thought this man emotionless was a blind fool. “No, I won’t shed any tears for her.”
I’m saving them all for when we part.
…
Wolfe undid his seat belt and glanced over at Kat. His jet had just landed in St. Petersburg. Kat was determined to find her sister, despite the dead end her jackal of a mother had proved to be. Bloody hell, he’d never been so tempted to harm a woman before. Irina Smirnova was a piece of work. She made his own mother look like a candidate for parent of the year.
Kat may pretend it hadn’t hurt for her mother to be so cruel, but he could see through the cracks in her facade. Her eyes were sad, the smile she gave him had only half the wattage, and she’d barely eaten. He’d held her through the night as bad dreams disturbed her rest. And the tears she’d refused to shed when awake had wet his chest. Each salty drop of Kat’s inner agony eroded his ability to keep his own feelings in control.
If he could take her pain away, if he could find her sister… His emotions were all over the place. So that’s why they continued this wild-goose chase. They’d flown to St. Petersburg to visit her old neighbor, one who had been a surrogate grandmother when the Smirnova family lived there. Kat was sure her sister would have left some forwarding address with the woman.
It took almost an hour to get to the northern suburb of St. Petersburg where Kat had grown up. The area was depressing. The roads had more potholes than asphalt, and the general air of neglect was reflected on the faces of the people who walked the crumbling sidewalks. Men and women, each clutching plastic shopping bags, were queued up next to kiosks. If it weren’t for the death grip Kat had on his arm, he’d have been tempted to turn their rental car around and return to their luxury suite in Moscow. He’d visited a lot of poor areas in his travels, but somehow, knowing this had been Kat’s life made it all too personal.
Eventually, they arrived at an original Communist era block of flats. So as not to stand out, they’d both dressed down, in jeans and T-shirts with knock-off sunglasses and fake leather jackets. Wolfe didn’t even live here, and he was already depressed.
He was also having serious doubts as to the success of their mission. If the woman had been old when Kat was a girl, what were the chances she was even still alive? Was Kat only setting herself up for more heartache?
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
That pulled a smile from her. “You said the same thing last night. I don’t think it can get any worse. At least I’m not likely to be called a prostitute here.”
They stood in the entranceway, although rather than take the lift, which he doubted would be able to hold his weight, Kat began to climb the stairs. “Don’t make eye contact,” she’d told him earlier, “and if anyone speaks to you, just grunt.” She needn’t have bothered with the warning, as it was risky to take his eyes off the crumbling cement steps. The UK’s health and safety commission would have a heart attack if they saw this place.
At the fourth floor, Kat stopped. “This was our apartment,” she said, pointing at a faded blue door, the paint completely chipped at the bottom. “I wonder if my father ever paid the rent and returned.”
But rather than tempt a reunion with another parent, she moved along two more doors. This one was still faded but clean. A worn but presentable mat sat in front and a vase of fresh flowers adorned one side. A little spot of joy in an otherwise dreary corridor.
“And this is where Valentina lives.” With an indrawn breath, Kat rapped on the door. They waited, and she raised her hand to knock again when a shuffle and plop sound came from within. Kat’s hand tightened on his.
“Kto eta?” A frail voice called from within.
“Baba, eta Katya,” Kat replied.
“Katya? Maya Katya?”
“Da.”
Several locks unbolted. “She remembers me, asked if it was her Katya.”
The door swung open to reveal an elderly woman, hunched over a walker. She couldn’t be more than five feet tall, even upright. But the walker was pushed aside and Katya was enveloped in a fierce embrace. The normal three kisses of a Russian greeting turned into five. By the time the women separated, they both had tears running down their cheeks.
Kat introduced him, at least that’s what he figured she said, as the woman latched on to him next. Her gnarled hand shot up and pulled his head down for her kisses. For a small thing, she sure was strong.
The smell of garlic rocked him back on his heels as they were ushered into the flat. Kat didn’t seem to notice. Instead she prattled on, pointing at photos on the wall. “Nothing’s changed,” she said to him.
They were shown into a small sitting room furnished with one couch and what looked like the first television set ever made. The elderly lady pointed at him and said something. He turned to Kat, for a translation.
The laughter in her eyes should have warned him. “She wants you to turn around slowly so she can see all of you.” This woman meant a lot to Kat, so he’d comply. “Once more,” Kat translated when Valentina spoke again. Before he was halfway around, the old lady grabbed his arse and gave it a pinch. When he glanced at Kat again she was doubled over in laughter. “Valentina says you’ll do.”
Kat patted the sofa next to her and, gratefully, he sat. Maybe Kat’s pseudo-grandmother wanted to check his teeth next. He thought he was safe until Valentina sat next to him, put a hand on his thigh, and squeezed. This was even worse than Kat’s mother flirting with him last night. What was it with Russian women? There was only one Ruskaya he wanted to be catnip to.
The two women talked fast and within seconds he was lost. So much for the Learn Russian In Thirty Minutes a Day book he’d downloaded after he’d learned Kat’s true nationality.
As they chatted, his gaze shifted around the room. Was there anything he could do for this elderly lady? Everything was neat and clean but seemed original to the building. The carpet had worn through in several places and anything heavier than a mouse would cause the chair in the corner to collapse.
Kat’s sudden indrawn breath brought his eyes back to her. She had a hand on her mouth and a tear coursed down her cheek. Oh God, not bad news about her sister. Valentina got up and left the room. He put his arms around Kat and kissed the tear away. “What is it?” His own throat ached as he asked the question.
“She has a letter for me from Natalya, and knows where she is. I knew Nat would come here. This was always our escape when things were bad at home.”
“Is your sister nearby?” The pressure on his chest eased.
“About a two-hour drive, back toward Moscow. She’s living in Valentina’s dacha, a cottage by a lake.”
He glanced at his watch. “We can be there by mid-afternoon if we leave now.”
“We have to stay for lunch,” Kat said as Valentina returned and handed her an envelope.
He couldn’t eat the poor woman’s food. But he didn’t want to be rude, either. Maybe he should suggest they go to a nearby restaurant and he’d pay the bill. And leave some cash discreetly before they left.
“We—”
“Trust me, it will be okay,” Kat said. Then she tore into the envelope.
As Kat read the letter, Valentina’s sharp eyes ran up and down him. “Horoshow,” she said. “Ochen horoshow.”
Very good. At least
he’d learned that much. His chest swelled. An old lady, whom he’d met only ten minutes ago, thought he was all right. And her assessment of him touched him more than he thought possible.
Emotionally unavailable, my arse. Much longer with Kat and he’d be a basket case.
Chapter Eleven
“Can’t this car go any faster?” Kat asked as Wolfe barreled down the highway in their rental. She’d forgotten how bad Russian roads were.
“You said be discreet.” His eyes left the road briefly to glance over at her, and he hit a massive pothole.
“I know. I’m just anxious to see my sister.”
Her reunion with Valentina had been bittersweet. It was probably the last time she’d see the woman. Her adopted baba’s heart was failing, and the doctors said she wouldn’t last much longer. Kat had pleaded with her to get a second opinion or at least try different therapies. Valentina refused, saying she was too tired; it was time to let go.
Let go. Kat had let go of so much she had little left to hold on to. Then Wolfe reached over and squeezed her hand clenched on the seat cushion. Rather than lament what she no longer had, she’d do better to enjoy what she did have while she had it.
Any hope she had of getting out of this relationship, heart intact, had ended this afternoon. How could she not fall for a man who ate two bowls of watery mushroom soup with a smile and then discreetly left enough money to pay for all of next year’s groceries?
“Valentina likes you,” she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat.
A mischievous smile played about his lips. “I know. She pinched my arse again as we left. And I’m pretty sure when you were in the bathroom she said that if things didn’t work out with you, she was available. You Russian women aren’t backward about being forward, are you?”
“We know what we want and we go after it.” She ran a hand up his thigh.
“So I see, but if you want to get to your sister’s safely and not have me crash this car, you’d better move your hand.”
Reluctantly, she returned to gripping the edge of the seat. “Thanks for leaving the cash, but you didn’t have to. I have money delivered to her every quarter.”
“Then why does it look like she’s living in poverty?”
“Because the things she has are all sentimental. And if she bought new, someone would just break in and steal them. It’s safer for her not to have too much. But she never goes hungry and has money for medicine. And she shares it with some of the other widows in the building.”
“She didn’t have children of her own?”
“She had a nephew whose parents died when he was a teen and she took him in, but he was…” Kat made a disgusted face. “That’s why I couldn’t live with her after my family fell apart. Viktor liked young girls too much. He was killed in a car accident a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry for Valentina.”
She shrugged. Viktor had been a disgusting pig and the world was better off without him. Even his aunt had felt the same. “He was a disappointment from a young age.”
“Well, I’m glad she had you and that you had her.”
“Yes. She made me feel worthy of love.”
They rode in silence for a while, the word “love” sitting like a lead ball in her stomach. Finally, they neared the turnoff. As Wolfe carefully navigated the gravel road, she stared at him. He had to be excited and nervous about the competition on Monday night, yet he’d taken his time to be with her rather than schmoozing with the crown prince and his entourage.
Why the hell did he have to be a good guy? Jerks were so much easier to leave. Her stomach lurched, and it had nothing to do with the rutted road.
“If I forget to say it later, thank you.”
He glanced again at her. “For what?”
“For coming with me. For holding my hand. For never saying this was a stupid idea.”
“You’re welcome. And apart from meeting your mother, it’s been fun. I’ve seen a part of Russia most tourists never see. I have a new appreciation for how resilient your people are.”
Yeah, I’m going to need all that resilience for when we part.
The first of the small cottages came into view, and Kat directed Wolfe around to one at the far end of the lake. It had been so long since she’d been here. But the smell of the forest, the call of the ducks, and the excited shouts of children were as familiar to her as if she’d just visited yesterday. Unfamiliar was the blend of nerves and anticipation coursing through her veins.
“You sure you want to do this?” Wolfe asked as he stopped the car in front of the small wooden building.
She leaned over and kissed his lips. “I’m sure.”
A tall man built like a massive oak tree came around the cottage. There was a hammer in his hand, and his jeans were covered in wood chips. He peered into the car and tightened his grip on the wooden handle.
“Kat, wait. Let me deal with this.” Wolfe put his hand on her arm as she went to open the door.
“Trust me, it’ll be okay,” she said, echoing her words from earlier.
“Is it just me or are our conversations on a loop?”
“Seem to be.” She pushed her car door open but stood behind it just in case this wasn’t her new brother-in-law. What if this was a dead end? What if Natalya had moved on? It took two tries to get her voice to carry as far as the big man. “Alexei?”
Wolfe got out of the car and came to stand beside her, his arm around her shoulder.
The Russian man’s eyes narrowed then a quizzical expression crossed his face. “I am Alexei Petrovich. Who are you?” he asked in Russian.
Kat pulled in a shaky breath, and Wolfe’s arm tightened in support. “I’m Katya Grigorievna Smirnova, Natalya’s sister.”
Alexei dropped the hammer, and he stared as though he was sure she was lying. “No. She was told you were dead.”
Kat tried to look around the man, but his huge form blocked all view of the cottage’s porch. “I was told the same of her. Is she here?”
“Yes, but she is due to give birth soon. You’d better let me warn her. I don’t want her to go into labor until the midwife arrives.”
Kat nodded, and while Alexei disappeared into the house, she explained to Wolfe what was happening. Blood zinged through her veins. After long years of worry, was she really about to see her sister?
Alexei appeared on the porch and gestured them in. He had a toddler on his hip, her long, blond hair pulled back into two pigtails on either side of her head. Kat had a niece. A gorgeous girl who looked so much like Natalya as a child, Kat’s eyes flooded with moisture. How often had big sister Kat brushed little Natalya’s hair and told her stories of fairy princesses? It was like yesterday, and forever ago.
Nothing could keep her tears from falling. Wolfe wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and with an indulgent smile for her sappiness, they entered the tiny cottage.
The dacha had seemed so much bigger when she was a child. With Alexei and Wolfe inside, it had shrunk in size. But it was neat and clean and had obvious recent repairs. Her sister, with a huge belly, stood in a bedroom doorway, wearing a flower-print dress and bare feet. Her blue eyes were damp, and her blond hair framed her angelic face. Kat raced across the room and enveloped Natalya in a hug so tight, the unborn baby kicked in protest. Which led to another burst of tears.
When at last they parted, Alexei moved to stand next to Natalya and put a supportive arm around his wife. Wolfe, who surprisingly hadn’t backed away slowly from the emotional mess she’d become, offered her a tissue and warm smile. With a wobbly voice, Kat performed the introductions and her sister and husband greeted Wolfe in English.
Then Natalya unleashed a flurry of questions in Russian so fast that even Kat had trouble keeping up. Wolfe just smiled and nodded. When eventually her sister took a breath, Alexei spoke before Kat could answer the first queries about how they’d got there and where they’d come from.
“Alexei is asking if you fish.” Kat translated her brother
-in-law’s question, as it seemed the easiest to answer.
“Not in a long time.” As in Valentina’s poor apartment, Wolfe seemed just as at home in the cottage. He was relaxed and as happy as she’d seen him in London; a man who could adapt to whatever circumstances he found himself in. And probably turn them to his advantage.
“Do you want to help him catch some supper?” Kat next asked.
“Sure. Unless you’d prefer me to stay,” Wolfe replied.
“I’m okay now, but there’s bound to be a few more tears, which I’m sure you’d rather avoid.”
“If they’re happy tears I don’t mind so much. But I’ll leave you two to catch up and I’ll go with Alexei and lure some fish to an early demise.” He saw Kat’s little niece Ekaterina staring at him, probably confused by the different language they spoke. Wolfe made a funny fish face and the little girl giggled. After the floods of tears from the sisters, the child’s laugh was like the first beams of sunshine following a storm.
Wolfe wrapped his arms around Kat from the back, and she leaned against his broad chest, savoring the warmth and security. If I could bottle this moment…
“I’ll translate that as yes,” Kat said. Wolfe kissed her lingeringly on the lips before following Alexei out of the cottage.
With the men gone, Kat stared at Natalya, desperate to see evidence that her sister was truly content. She glowed with her pregnancy, and the look of love in her eyes as they flitted to her daughter was unmistakable. As though a huge weight had been lifted from her chest, Kat pulled in a lungful of air. All the risk, the stress, the worry about coming back to Russia had been worth it. Natalya was alive and happy. Kat could rest easy now.
With Wolfe out fishing with Alexei, she didn’t have to translate their conversation but could speak freely in Russian. “I can’t believe I finally found you. I’ve searched and searched.”
Natalya shook her head as though making certain this was real as well. “I can’t believe it, either. I have so much to tell you. So many questions to ask.”