To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series)

by Aubrey, Cecilia; Almeida, Chris

  Jessica understood that nothing she could possibly say would get through to him at that time. She had to find a different way to reach him or simply give up. “Fine. You don’t seem to be open to the possibility that your test, whenever it was done, could be wrong. For the record, I’m keeping our child. If you’d like to be sure, you are welcome to request a paternity test once he or she is born. If not, it’s your loss. This would be your chance to have what you’ve craved for so long.”

  “I never—”

  “Oh, yeah you did.” Jessica rubbed her brow to hold back the headache that was creeping up on her. “Don’t lie to yourself. If and when you’re ready to accept the fact that maybe those tests were wrong, accept that I’m all you need in your life, you know where to find us. But don’t take too long, or I might be the one passing on the offer.”

  Jessica stood, her back straight; she couldn’t hold back the love from shining in her eyes as she gazed on him for what might be the last time. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Goodbye, Stephan.”

  The minute the door slammed closed, Stephan leaned back in his chair and raked his hair with both hands. He stared blindly into space as he wrapped his head around what had just happened. Jessica’s announcement brought back the painful memories of eighteen years back. Layla. He had met her through a friend and they’d clicked right away. They’d dated for a short time before she had officially moved in with him. She’d had long-term plans, and he had been right there with her.

  They both had held good jobs and had shared wide circle of friends. The only things that had been missing from the perfect picture were the wedding rings, the house with a white picket fence, and the racket of children. Their only contention had been over marriage; Layla had been adamant that they didn’t need the wedding rings or the papers, and she wasn’t alone. Ireland’s lack of a divorce law pushed many young couples to cohabitate without the long-lasting commitment of marriage.

  Her words still rang loudly in his ears. “What if things go sour and we can’t get divorced?”

  “We love each other. Why focus on the what-ifs? Why not take it seriously, make it forever?” had been his usual reply.

  Over time, Layla had begun to yearn for a child. Stephan had seen it as the perfect opportunity to weaken her defenses and gently guide her to the altar. But while Stephan preferred to have a tight knot before bringing children into the world, Layla wanted them without the need for a definitive tie. It was during one of their arguments about it that she had confessed she had stopped taking her pills months before without success. They had argued about her tactics, but in the end, they had reached an agreement: they would actively try to conceive, and when it happened, she would marry him. Months had passed without a hint of a baby. He had soothed her, saying those things could take a long time, that maybe they just had to relax a little, go on vacation somewhere warm.

  Layla hadn’t seen it that way. She had become anxious and proposed they go through fertility testing. The day she had received the results he had been at work. Layla had called from home, crying inconsolably; he had been barely able to understand a word she had said. By the time he had gotten home, she had already packed and left. All that was left of her was a note on the table.

  Stephan,

  We can’t continue this way. You can’t give me what I want and I can’t be who you want me to be. I wish you all the happiness in the world and that you find someone who can fulfill your every wish. I hope to find the same for myself one day.

  Love,

  Layla

  Each word had burned his mind irrevocably. He had sunk into a world of hurt and disappointment. His infertility became a source of shame that he hid deep inside, shying away from evolving relationships, avoiding the disclosure of what he viewed as a handicap.

  Layla had wanted a baby more than she had loved or wanted a life with him. He believed others would eventually come to feel the same way. For many years, avoidance of deeper connections had worked beautifully.

  All things went to hell in a hand basket when he met Jessica. He had known he was in trouble the minute he had laid eyes on her. Her youth screamed joy and laughter and of babies who would look like angelic imps, blonde and blue-eyed, just like their mother. A pang of wistfulness hit him square in the chest. He had known it was coming, had seen the signs when he’d caught Jessica enthralled by the baby that day—one of the reasons that had pushed him to put an end to things, to them.

  He still couldn’t believe she had gone to such great lengths. The extreme of getting pregnant by another man and to claim it was his. She was impulsive and determined, but the Jessica he knew was not manipulative and evil. The deep pain he had witnessed in her eyes came back to haunt him.

  Suddenly, he needed to get out of the house. The walls closed down on him, he needed to find a place where he could clear his head and think, drown himself in a pint or two. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his jacket and keys, and rushed out of the house as if the dogs of hell were nipping at his heels.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Dumbass

  THE DRIVE TO THE SAFE house hadn’t done much to improve Nathan’s mood. Too many questions simmered in his head, heating his temper to a boiling point. What were they really doing in Russia that required having a safe house as backup? What had made Cassandra run there? He slammed his hand against the wheel. This time he planned on having the answers straight up.

  Dawn was still hours away and it had been several miles since Nathan had passed any other cars on the highway. Anxious to reach Cassandra, he pressed his foot on the pedal harder and harder, his stomach twisting in knots as his car ate up the miles. Is she hurt? Is the asshole with her? Is he hurt? The idea of Bauer in pain appealed to him. After savoring the image, Nathan shook his head. It would be too good to be true. He glanced at his phone’s screen. Thirty more miles to go. It couldn’t go by fast enough.

  Just before reaching the coordinates, and taking into account he had no intelligence on what had caused Cassandra to flee to the safe house, Nathan pulled off onto a side access road and parked the car behind a grove of large trees, out of clear sight from the road.

  According to the GPS, the safe house was located on the other side of those woods. He checked his email. Still no reply from Cassandra. Out of the car, Nathan shrugged off his trench and tossed it back on the seat. After a swift scan of the area, he palmed his SIG and took off jogging along the edge of the road until he reached a hidden driveway off to the right.

  There was a crisp bite to the early morning air, and the woods were teeming with life. Nathan veered through the trees, cutting into the tree line surrounding the house. The sounds of crickets serenaded his ears and small animals rustled in the underbrush as he made his way across.

  He stumbled right into the safe house’s backyard and, crouching in the cover of the shrubs, cased the house. After a few minutes of observation, his concern grew when he couldn’t detect any indoor activity. Under the dim moonlight, he crept to the back door. After hearing the soft beep from the hidden keypad, Nathan turned the handle and eased the door open. Concern was like a heavy fist gripping his chest as he peered and inched forward into the small dark kitchen just far enough to clear the door.

  Squinting down the hall at the kitchen door, Cassandra’s heart dropped to her stomach when a creak sounded on the planks of the back porch. Her eyes were tight and gritty and her ears had been playing tricks on her for the past hour. She could no longer count on one hand the number of times she had thought she had heard the door creak.

  She almost let it pass until the ping of the security pad spurred her into action. Rolling to her feet in a smooth flowing motion, she grabbed Trevor’s gun from the coffee table, turned the lamp off, bathing the room in darkness, and quietly sprinted down the hall to the kitchen. Gripping her gun in one hand and Trevor’s in the other, she stayed low and listened. Her pulse raced out of control. Please be Trevor! Keep it cool, Cassie. She took a position behind the door and released the
safeties on both pistols.

  Cassandra held her breath as the door eased open. With eyes already adapted to the darkness, she watched the shadowy figure step through the door. Disappointment punched her in the chest and she winced inwardly. She was intimately familiar with Trevor’s gait and knew right away that it couldn’t be him.

  She gauged that the intruder outweighed her by a good hundred pounds and was taller by some eight inches. On soft feet, she slipped behind him and kicked the door shut as she dug one Grach against his lower back and the other kissed the base of the intruder’s skull.

  “Don’t move!” she hissed harshly. “Do and you’ll get one in the kidney. Or one straight in the pea brain. Maybe both.”

  She pressed the muzzles of the guns tighter into his body when he shifted his weight. “Don’t give me an excuse. Put your hands behind your head!” The intruder complied, an indication he understood exactly what she’d said.

  Cassandra followed procedure; keeping one gun pressed tightly against his neck, she slipped the other in her waistband and disarmed the intruder.

  “Cass….” The masculine tone was raw and husky, and she struggled to place it.

  Jabbing his lower back with the barrel of his own gun, she nudged him forward. “Move. Slowly. Who are you? How do you know my name?”

  “Jeezus. Cass. It’s me, Nathan.”

  “Liar! Hit the switch.” Once the kitchen was flooded with light, her jaw almost hit the floor. “Shit! It is you! What the hell are you doing here?”

  Nathan turned and looked at her, his angry eyes narrowed to slits. “What? No welcome hug?”

  “What the hell, Nate!” She shot him a disgusted look, handing him back his gun and lowering hers. Resetting the security system, she walked past him without a backward glance.

  He followed her, switching the lights off and leaving the kitchen back in darkness. Nathan closed the distance between them, rapidly catching up when Cassandra turned the table lamp on again. Grabbing her arm, Nathan spun her around to face him. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was full of rage and there was a possessive desperation in it. “Where the fuck is your husband?” He spat the word at her.

  She watched his jaw clench when his eyes found the two contingency bags at the entrance. He turned his turbulent gaze to her. “What has that damn Irishman gotten you into?”

  Cassandra strained against his grip and jerked her arm back. She pressed her lips together in anger. She could no longer stand his cynical expression without retort. “Shut the fuck up, Nate! Before you say something we’ll both regret.” Her patience had worn thin and she felt like clocking him good.

  “Is there money involved? The greedy bastard is using you to help pad his account, isn’t he? I never thought you—”

  Her eyes flashed furiously. Her hand curled into a fist and, moving of its own volition, caught him across the jaw. Nathan’s head snapped back.

  “Fuck!” he hissed out.

  “You don’t know him! And apparently, you really don’t know me either! He doesn’t need that…he doesn’t need the money.”

  A vein pulsed in his forehead and his lips pressed into a thin line as he rubbed his jaw. “What the hell was that for?” His eyes filled with a mix of fury and disbelief.

  Cassandra stood toe to toe with him and, tilting her head back, held his gaze. “You know nothing about him or us. So back the fuck off!”

  “I’ll back off Cass, if, and only if, I find that I gave you to someone who really deserves you.”

  Her face became a marble effigy of contempt, her low voice simmered with barely checked anger. “You. Did. Not. Give. Me. Away,” each word punctuated by a jab of her finger against the middle of his chest. Nathan flinched, but Cassandra was past the point of no return. “As much as you seem to think you had me at some point, I was never yours. Never!”

  “You can’t ignore the fact that we are perfect for each other. Made for each other. Come back with me. Back to the CIA. I can protect you there. I can keep you safe! We can leave now.”

  “See? That’s where you get it all wrong, Nate. I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t want you to protect me.” His eyes narrowed, but Cassandra pushed on. “All the years I struggled to be the perfect daughter, perfect employee, perfect partner, perfect…whatever. It was exhausting and demanding. Trevor, he gets it right. He understands me. He trusts me. He lets me be me.”

  ”Cass, you should have said something. I would’ve—”

  “What? Understood? Changed? Either way, it wouldn’t have been as natural as it is between Trevor and me. He loves me as I am, always has from day one. He admires my strengths and, for some weird reason, loves my faults more. I don’t have to second-guess what he’s thinking or how to please him, the same way he doesn’t have to work hard at pleasing me. What we have is real love. Not the idea of love you seem to have created in your own mind.”

  Nathan scoffed. “He loves you, and yet he put you in danger. Dragged you to Russia. Made you run for the hills. Left you alone to fend for yourself!”

  All Cassandra could do was shake her head in response to his comments. She backed away from him, rubbing her arm and met his icy gaze straight on. “Wrong again. He didn’t drag me into anything. Where he goes, I go willingly. I came here as his wife and partner to help him. He didn’t put me in danger; in fact, he kept me out of it while putting his own life on the line.” She cocked her head and placed her hands on her hips. “And, as for my running for the hills? It was part of our contingency plan to remove me from harm’s way, you dumbass! So here I am. Safe and sound while my husband, the man I love more than life itself, could quite possibly be lying somewhere injured, or worse, dead. So, don’t you dare sit here on your high horse condemning someone who has done everything he can to protect my ass.”

  A sob took a strangle hold on her throat. Oh God! Don’t let him be dead. Cassandra struggled to control herself before she did something rash. Swallowing hard, she wrapped her arms around her waist and turned her back to him.

  Nathan was like a dog with a bone. “Why Cass? You still haven’t told me why you’re really here. Is he involved in something dirty? Something you can’t even tell your own father about? I talked to Robert. He only knows the same bullshit you’ve been dishing me.”

  Sighing deeply, a part of her wanted to tell Nathan to go to hell. But her other half had an overwhelming need to have him understand what Trevor meant to her once and for all. It pained her that her friend’s view of Trevor was distorted by misplaced jealousy. All she wanted was for Nathan to see Trevor for who he really was.

  Cassandra sat on the edge of the couch studying the hard planes of Nathan’s face for a moment. “Okay, fine. You deserve to hear why I’ve been asking for so many favors and sounding edgy. We’re in Russia because Trevor was promised information in exchange for the retrieval of some stolen data.”

  A calculating look blanketed his expression. “What do you mean, ‘information’?”

  “The information revolves around Trevor’s parents. They vanished into thin air almost six years ago. Nobody knows how or why. They were never found. We need to know what happened to them.”

  Nathan’s eyes hardened. “And what did the job entail, Cass?” His tone was angry and unforgiving.

  Cassandra knew from experience that he wouldn’t let it go. “A mafia organization from St. Petersburg stole a powerful decrypter in development phase. If they managed to finish the development of the software, our client would be blamed for all the financial chaos that would ensue.”

  Nathan cursed under his breath and threw his arms up. “What the fuck was he thinking?! He could have come to me! Passed on the information to the CIA!” His tone rose as he paced in front of her. “Hell, he used to work for the NSA, for fuck’s sake!”

  Cassandra watched Nathan circle like a caged tiger in front of her and kept her own temper in check. “Yes, we could have; but we were honoring our client’s wishes to avoid government agency involvement unless
absolutely necessary.” He stopped midstride and stared at her in disbelief. “Don’t give me that look. This is a job. It is what we do—”

  Before she could explain further, a noise reverberated down the hall. Cassandra cocked her head to listen as she signaled Nathan to remain quiet. The noise sounded again—the creak of wood on the back porch followed by the beep of the keypad. She shot a questioning look straight at Nathan.

  Seeing the look, Nathan mouthed, “No tail.”

  Both sprang into action like old times. Exchanging a series of hand signals, they quietly jogged toward the kitchen. Nathan took point covering the door and Cassandra fell back, taking a position in the hallway, covering both Nathan and the door.

  Her heart pounded and swelled with hope that Trevor had finally made it. It took all her strength to not rush the door and yank it open. For all she knew, it could be one of Mikhailov’s goons. Nodding to Nathan, she took a firmer grip on her gun, waiting for whoever it was to enter the kitchen, while he pressed back against the wall in the shadow of the cabinets, waiting for the opportunity to catch the trespasser off guard.

  Cassandra wanted to yell at him to be careful in case it was Trevor, but had to content herself with shooting him a telling glance, hoping he would catch her drift. Her attention remained riveted on the door and her breath came in raspy gasps of anticipation. For the second time that night, a shadow eased into the house.

  *****

  Trevor managed to reach Zelenogorsk and catch last train to Vyborg with the luck of the Irish. After Yakov had dropped him off at the closest village, he had used Dmitriy’s money to procure a ride to the train station. With his left arm immobilized against his chest, courtesy of Tatiana’s proficient hands, he was able to sleep for the length of the two trips. Whatever she had cleaned the wound with, possibly some farm ointment or such, was working wonders. Although still in pain, it was bearable and his shoulder didn’t throb like it did earlier.