by Lyra Byrnes
“Sh!”
“Some of you know already the news, but it is my pleasure to make announcement at this fine party.” He belched into his hand. “It is a great day for us, friends. Because of two superpowers cooperating, the breakaway republic of Chechnya is no longer a threat to world peace. Their rebel leader, the coward Alexsandr Maksimov, is dead.”
Light applause rippled through the room. Coco blanched.
“Where are you going? Hey!”
She crashed through the back door and onto the street. It was dark and empty now, the limousines gone to purr quietly and await the return of their bloodthirsty cargo. She collapsed onto a step in the doorway of a shuttered shop.
Alexi dead—and it was her fault. He would never get her message, never know that she had found the home she longed for. Something inside her seemed to crack and she convulsed in sobs, heaving and howling like a wild animal.
She didn’t look up at the clacking of Rod’s dress shoes on the pavement. “What is wrong with you?” he asked angrily. “So you didn’t get the honor of killing him yourself. Big deal, it’s done now. Pull yourself together.”
This time she looked up. Everything was blurry through her tears, a tiny blessing in a pool of misery. “How?” she asked.
“Hell if I know. Luganov gave me the news after you ran away. I thought you’d be pleased. Score one for the good old US of A.”
“Fuck you.”
“Listen, Coco.” He took her roughly by the upper arm. “I told you it’s time to get with the program. The world is changing. The commies aren’t a threat anymore. Well, some commies are, but the point is, we did a good thing, and here you are crying like a little bitch.”
“Double fuck you,” she hiccupped. What she wouldn’t have given for a gun in her purse.
“It’s time to man up, Agent Fiori. You’re either with us or against us. Make your choice.”
“No! I don’t see the world in black and white like you do, and I’m done taking sides.”
He pulled her upright and glared into her wet face. “You know what you’re saying?”
“Sure, whatever. Decommission me.”
His laugh was hollow and ugly. “Decom? Oh no, sweetie. There’s a reason we work in the shadows. You think anyone’s going to miss you? No family, no ties, no pets. Do the neighbors even know your name? You leave the agency knowing what you know, and you’re a bigger threat to us than anyone from the outside. We don’t decom people. We disappear them.”
Harnessing all her strength, she wrenched out of his grip and raced off down the street. A limo turned into the lane, almost running her down, and she jumped back, splashing into a puddle in the gutter. She tore her off her high-heeled sandals, hitting Rod in the shoulder with one, and took off again. The street began to fill with party guests, some casting curious glances at the ivory shape darting between the cars. Rod threaded through the crowd.
She glanced back. She could not get too far away from the mass of people streaming out of the museum, or Rod would catch her at an unlit intersection. He was about thirty paces from her. She crouched down behind a waiting vehicle, counting his steps. Underneath the purring car, a set of dress shoes came to a halt. She snuck sideways, rounding the car, until she was an arm’s distance from him. With a vicious pinch, she seized the flesh on either side of his Achilles tendon and squeezed with all her might. He let out a yelp and his knees buckled, but he didn’t go down.
“Bitch!” he hissed, reaching under his suit lapel.
She ran, dodging a car door that swung open in her path. Of course he’d come armed—no doubt half the crowd was carrying. If she was within his range, he’d start a panicked shootout right there in the streets. Moving upright was faster, but more dangerous. She had to count on him not to dare shoot at her in this crowd. Then again, even if others were injured because of his rashness, he would make up a good story to back up his actions, and the sad part was, he was right—she would not be missed. Trust no one.
Wait, that wasn’t the most important directive, she thought grimly. It was far too late for that.
Don’t die.
Her only chance was to keep moving in a zigzag pattern so he’d have less chance of hitting her. She elbowed an elderly man in the ribs, dashing for the end of the street. One glance back at her pursuer and she could turn the corner and disappear.
The intersection was dark, but she could see Rod holding the gun in both hands and moving with long, careful strides. The crowd filling the street behind him continued to shuffle into their cars, oblivious to the drama playing out only yards away. She dashed around the corner and pressed against a doorway, hoping she could at least trip him as he approached.
She waited, not daring to breathe. The murmur of voices and the occasional honk could be heard, but no footsteps neared. Her body ached from the sudden sprint. Had he shot his dumb self by mistake? No, because now she could hear a crunching noise and a sort of whimper, followed by a low growl. She willed her heartbeat to slow and tuned in to the sounds—an animal in pain, a fierce blow.
Then the footsteps came, slowly, unhurried. Mentally she timed them, ready to stick out her bare foot and bring him down on the dark pavement.
They stopped, out of her sight lines. One step more, just one, you bastard¼
“Come, krahsniy. Let us go home.”
Chapter Fifteen
Funny how the lake’s waters changed from blue to green as you got close to its verdant edge, she thought. Funny how she should think of this place as the site of terrible deeds she had been tasked to commit, but that changed color, too. The cottage looked humble and welcoming in the midmorning sun. There was nowhere she would rather be, and no one she’d rather be there with.
She shook out a blanket and laid it on the grass, watching with a smile as Alexi pulled off his shirt.
“You’re going to eat naked?” she teased.
“Still asking questions.”
“I have a million of them,” she admitted. “Like, should I be jealous of this Yelena?”
“She is rich and powerful, with many connections. Procuring this house was no trouble after I spoke with your boss.”
“Beat the shit out of him, you mean.”
He frowned. “I did both. He has very stiff hair.”
She admired the graceful efficiency of Alexi’s movements as he laid out the food—roast chicken, a tub of olives, a baguette, cheese and a basket of tiny strawberries. Her mouth watered. She realized she hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Finally he produced two bottles of champagne from the boot of the limo. There had been a time, not long ago, when his slashed eye repulsed her. It seemed inconceivable that she had shuddered at the thought of smiling into that face, teasing and flirting with him, trying to seduce him out of secrets. Now, all she wanted to do was tear off the moss-green slip-dress he’d brought for her and pounce on him.
“They said you were dead.”
“Yelena said. I am sorry, krahsniy, you were not meant to hear that. Better if they think me gone. My people will not prevail, but neither will they die.”
“And you’re just giving up the fight?”
“You know what will happen if I don’t.”
She sipped the champagne. It tasted glorious. The last thing she wanted was to lose Alexi to the madness of war, if she could keep him here forever, safe in their safe house. But the man whose dossier she had flipped through while sitting on her hotel bed was passionate and uncompromising. She didn’t want to change him. That would be her own way of defanging the wolf. And, if she was honest with herself, the wolf part of him attracted her as strongly as the gentle one who had pulled the hull off a strawberry before handing it to her.
“It will go on anyway.”
“Yes. You made me see that. When I told you this fight has lasted for a hundred hundred years, I was not listening to myself. Now I see. Before me and my grandfathers, long after I am truly dead, it will go on. I am nothing—a speck in the eye of an evil god.”
�
��Times change,” she said weakly. “Loyalties shift. You never know.”
“I know this—the day I shut my heart down was a mistake. When I saw that picture you sent, the one that reminded me of home, I knew you understood what it means to me, and then I could let it go.”
“And I almost caused it to be bombed into rubble. I was trying to avoid a war, you know, not start one.”
He shrugged. “You see now, it’s more easy to start war than people think. You were doing your job, I was doing mine. Now we are orphans together.”
“I know, I mean, what’s next? Maybe the OSO won’t come after me, if Rod keeps his word. But why would he? He knows you’re out there.”
“Out here and dangerous. He fears me now,” Alexi said simply. “He should. The man is a coward at heart. He wants to keep his job more than he wants peace.”
“Well, we can’t live here forever, swatting salmon out of the lake with our hands like bears.” She spit out an olive pit. “You’re recognizable, and I’m in the shadows again. This is wonderful, Alexi, but it’s temporary, you know that. Is there dessert in that basket?”
He didn’t answer, just looked at her with an odd expression on his face. She lowered the chicken leg she was holding. “What is it?”
“You eat like a man,” he laughed.
“For that, I should chain you to the wall again.”
“No, I like it. I like your passion, krahsniy. We will find our way. And yes, there is sweet treat for us both.”
She rummaged through the basket, her flaming hair curtaining her face. “I’m not seeing anything.”
He stopped her hands. “This fantasy is temporary, yes, but I have found home in you. And you in me, I think, no?”
She gulped, nodding. It was true—home was wherever they could be together, the memories of their shared past and separate pain bonding them, their future an uncertainty. But whatever was to come, she had found safe haven in Alexi, a man who had given up an entire nation just to be with her.
“The waterfall, little one. Maybe for you, fantasy is to dive into lake of ice cream. For me, is to make love under a waterfall with a beautiful red-haired spy on a glorious summer day.”
“Well, since you neglected to buy us a lake full of ice cream¼ But I warn you, I fight back.”
She stood and pulled the dress over her head. Alexi took in the sight of her long ivory legs, creamy breasts and warm, teasing smile, and licked his lips.
“And I will subdue you—” he began. But she had already jumped into the lake, squealing at the cold, and begun splashing toward the curtain of clear water.
“With three little words,” he whispered to himself.
Coco disappeared behind the waterfall, becoming nothing but a smudge of red.
“You’ll never take me alive, Maksimov!” she yelled, sending up a splash of water with one playful hand.
He shook his head at the chirping of his little red bird. With a smile, he stripped off his jeans and waded in after her.
About Lyra Byrnes
Bookish crafter by day, scribbler of passionate tales by night, Lyra Byrnes leads a most satisfying double life. A former award-winning journalist and multi-published author, she turned to writing romances full-time after being inspired by the many wonderful stories out there. Rumors that she dons a cape and mask to write are probably unfounded.
Lyra welcomes comments from readers. You can find her email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Made to Be Broken
ISBN 9781419949074
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Made to Be Broken Copyright © 2013 Lyra Byrnes
Edited by Beverly Horne
Cover design and photography by Syneca
Models: Axl and Taylor
Electronic book publication October 2013
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