Sister Spy

by Laura Peyton Roberts

  “Not like your mommy and daddy, huh, Oxana?” Agent Warren asked, walking back into the room. He was waving a coded fax transmission, his expression jubilant.

  Roxy's pale face drained to white.

  “Funny thing about DNA,” he continued. “We didn't have yours on file, but the computer took one look and kicked out profiles for both your parents. See, after their little ‘accident,' we had plenty of time to collect samples.”

  “I'll kill you!” Roxy screamed, lunging forward. The unsecured chair fell over, leaving her struggling and shrieking on her side, desperately trying to get to Warren.

  “You're with me,” Ramirez said, grabbing Sydney by the arm and pulling her out of the cabin. “We need to shut this door.”

  The last thing Sydney saw was Roxy, spitting and gnashing her teeth, tears of rage wetting her twisted face.

  “I just saw the X ray of Suler's case,” Ramirez remarked conversationally. “Everything's inside and in perfect condition. Congratulations.”

  From behind the heavy door, Sydney heard another faint scream.

  “Now we'll get the intel we want too,” Ramirez said, nodding toward the door. “It's always just a question of finding the right angle.”

  Sydney's entire body began trembling. “But . . . I don't understand.”

  Agent Ramirez nodded sympathetically and patted Sydney's shoulder. “Neither did we, until those results came through. I've still got Research chasing out the details, but it seems your friend's parents were both KGB, stationed in the United States. Oxana—Roxy—was born and raised here. When she was thirteen, her parents were killed in a joint mission, and after that we don't know yet.”

  “You think she's SVR?” The SVR, the Russian foreign intelligence service that supplanted the disbanded KGB, was a legitimate agency, not like the renegade branch of the Russian underground known as K-Directorate.

  “Doubtful. But what an easy recruit forK-Directorate! Play on that pain and anger, convince her that the CIA shot two innocent people, offer her vengeance while telling her she's doing something great for her true homeland. . . .”

  Ramirez's expression grew wistful, as if she'd have liked to have that job. “Piece of cake. I'm not kidding.”

  Sydney could see that she wasn't.

  “I need some air,” Sydney blurted out, overwhelmed.

  “Why don't you get out of here? Head back to your hotel,” Ramirez urged. “You couldn't have done a better job, but we'll take it from here.”

  Sydney stumbled up the ladder to the deck, barely acknowledging the crew or the other agents in her haste to get away. Even the cool night air couldn't cut the buzzing in her head as she jumped down to the dock and jogged off. An incredible pain had seized her, and all she knew for sure was that she needed to find someplace quiet. A place she could think. And recover.

  And cry.

  From the vantage point of the lighthouse, Sydney watched the SD-6 vessel putting back to sea. The hour was late and the yacht was running with minimal lights, but she was certain the craft nosing out of the harbor was the one carrying Roxy and the Suler prototype back to Los Angeles.

  The knowledge brought her no joy. Everyone had told her what a great job she'd done on this mission, but even after a couple of hours of decompressing by herself, she still felt sick.

  There was something wrong with a world where girls her own age could be in so much trouble. She wished she'd never gotten mixed up in any of it. Maybe Ashley and Roxy deserved whatever punishments they had coming . . . but why did she have to be involved?

  Every time she closed her eyes she saw Ashley's broken, tear-streaked face and knew that things hadn't had to turn out that way. Not if someone had stepped in and cared . . .

  And Roxy . . .

  Her stomach twisted every time she imagined Roxy's life. She hadn't forgotten that Roxy killed Jen. But she also knew firsthand the pain of losing a mother. To have lost both parents, and lost them like that . . . No wonder Roxy had fallen in with K-Directorate. It was amazing her mind hadn't snapped.

  Maybe SD-6 can help her, Sydney thought hopefully. Rehabilitate her or something.

  But whether Roxy would be held in prison or somewhere more secluded, Sydney wasn't sure. The CIA was obviously going to want to learn as much as it could from her. Once Roxy was made to cooperate, she could be a gold mine of new information. Of course, gaining that cooperation was likely to take a while. . . .

  Sydney sniffed back a headful of tears and wiped her wet eyes on her shirt.

  Doing something good just shouldn't feel this bad.

  Francie was probably frantic with wondering where she was, and by now even the other sisters had likely noticed her absence. The official SD-6 cover story to explain Roxy's disappearance was that she'd been arrested for dealing with Ashley. Wilson could make that happen on paper, and Roxy wouldn't be around to refute it. Still, the idea of going back to the hotel and floating that lie to AKX was too depressing to contemplate.

  Doing anything with AKX was too depressing to contemplate.

  “Sydney?” A quiet voice a few feet behind her made her spin around.

  “Noah?”

  “I want you to notice that I didn't sneak up this time,” he said, moving closer. “At least, I tried not to.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked incredulously. “Where did you come from?”

  “I never left,” he said. “I told you I had a few days off.”

  She couldn't believe he was really there. His presence seemed like a mirage, something her weary brain had invented to escape reality. She reached a hand toward him slowly, as if he were an image on the surface of a bubble.

  “Tough night, huh?” he said sympathetically.

  “How did you find me here?”

  He shrugged. “I talk to people. I hear things. When the boat came in, I figured you'd be at the dock. You weren't, so I kept looking.”

  “I'm glad you did,” she said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “I've been wanting to tell you . . . I'm sorry for the other night.”

  He waved the words away. “You were busy. I should have known better.”

  He took another step closer, close enough to see into her eyes. “I thought maybe now that your mission's over . . . But this doesn't look like a party.”

  “No.” Sydney sniffed again, and before she could blink them back her tears overflowed. “Oh, Noah, I don't know what I'm doing anymore! Everything's so messed up.”

  She expected him to try to talk her out of it, to tell her what a great job she'd done, like everyone else. But instead, he opened his arms and folded her safely inside them.

  “I feel that way four days out of five,” he murmured into her hair. “It doesn't make you a bad person.”

  She started to laugh, but halfway up, the sound caught in her throat, turning into a sob. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing hard as the tears continued to fall. He let her cry, just being there, just holding her. Somehow she knew he understood exactly how she felt.

  How could I have ever considered replacing him with Burke? she wondered.

  Burke was a nice guy, but he would never, ever know her the way Noah already did.

  How can he, when I can't tell him anything?

  To be in a relationship with someone who could never truly be part of her life seemed impossible now. She couldn't believe she'd seriously thought about it.

  I wouldn't have, if Noah hadn't been so cold. If he hadn't acted like he didn't want anything to do with me . . .

  It suddenly occurred to her he wasn't acting that way now. Stifling her tears, Sydney lifted her face up to his. The tender expression she surprised there took her breath away.

  “Noah?”

  “Yes?”

  “I was wondering . . .”

  His muscles tensed beneath her hands. She knew what he was thinking, that she was going to start making demands, ultimatums.

  “I was wondering,” she repeated, “if you could kiss me now.”

>   His tension melted away. He lowered his face to hers. “Funny,” he said huskily. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  Then their lips came together, hungry and hot, and it was Paris all over again. The same storm swept through her, the same aching need. Her hands went into his hair and down his back, trying to memorize him. Her knees gave way. Her breath came in gasps. Noah was the one she wanted, the only one she'd ever wanted.

  And when he lifted his mouth from hers and she looked into his eyes, everything she'd been thinking was mirrored right back to her. He couldn't deny it. He didn't even try.

  He felt the same way.

  16

  “I'm whipped,” Francie announced, dumping the crumpled contents of her suitcase onto her dorm room bed. “Who knew joining a sorority would be so exhausting?”

  They had just returned from Oahu, the long flight and subsequent bus ride to campus as tense and subdued as the trip out had been exuberant. The sisters of Alpha Kappa Chi were in shock over the dual loss of Roxy and Ashley. No one had known what to say, so mostly they'd just kept quiet—except for poor Keisha, who had cried off and on the entire way home.

  Sydney dumped out her own suitcase, then turned to face her friend.

  “About the sorority, Francie,” she said. “I can't go through with it. I didn't want to say this in front of the other girls, but after everything that's happened . . .”

  “Oh, thank heavens!” Francie exclaimed, sitting down on her pile of laundry. “I've spent the past five hours trying to figure out how to tell you the same thing.”

  “You have?”

  “I really expected to like it, but it was horrible! I was never going to fit in with those girls; they didn't want me in the first place. And it's not the money, because let's face it, the amount they have is unnatural by any human standard. It was their complete and total lack of interest in anything but themselves. If you didn't wear just the right thing, or say just the right thing, or do just the right thing . . . I feel like I've been to boot camp instead of Hawaii. And don't take this the wrong way, Syd, but they were really starting to change you.”

  Sydney smiled sheepishly. “I guess I should have known I wasn't sorority material.”

  “It wasn't you; it was them. If you had let me pick the house . . .” Francie brightened. “Maybe next fall we can—”

  “Don't even think it!” Sydney interrupted, holding up her palm. “By next fall I plan to have forgotten any of this ever happened.”

  Not that she expected to succeed. It would be a long, long time before she put her Hawaii mission behind her. To have been so wrong about two different girls had seriously rocked her faith in her own judgment. She didn't think she'd ever look at anyone in quite the same trusting way.

  “So what are we doing tonight?” Francie asked.

  “You mean besides laundry?”

  “It's Friday night.” Francie checked her watch. “And it's early. We ought to be able to come up with something better than laundry.”

  “What happened to being exhausted?”

  Francie grinned playfully. “I think what I said was that being in a sorority is exhausting. Suddenly, I feel all better.”

  “I don't. I'm going to put my stuff away, go to bed early, and be ready to hit the books tomorrow.”

  “Wow. Thrilling. How will you stand the excitement?”

  A sharp rap on the door made Sydney jump, then take a calming breath.

  You're home, you're safe, you're just another college student, she reminded herself.

  But it was getting harder to make the transition back to normal life. In fact, her job was starting to make her wonder if “normal” even existed. As far as she was concerned, the entire concept of normalcy was on trial.

  “Get that!” Francie said. “You're closer.”

  Sydney walked to the door and pulled it open, only to find herself face to face with Burke, a huge, happy grin on his handsome face.

  “Welcome back!” he said.

  He pushed some daisies into her hands and kissed her on the cheek, a quarter-inch of strawberry stubble tickling her as he withdrew. She could tell by the way he smelled that he had recently showered and shampooed, but instead of being a turn-on, his fresh scent only reminded her how many hours she'd just spent traveling. He wasn't catching her at her best—or at her most prepared.

  “Burke! What's going on?” she asked, shooting an amazed glance over her shoulder at Francie. “We didn't have plans, did we?”

  “Nope,” he said, pleased with himself. “I was so glad you were finally coming home that I decided to surprise you. I have reservations at the Velvet Vegan,” he added, waggling his eyebrows. “And they don't give those to just anyone.”

  “Oh, no,” said Sydney, laughing. “That's a very fancy dive.”

  Burke nodded smugly. “Romantic, too. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I fully intend to sweep you off your feet.”

  Francie giggled.

  Burke craned his neck around the door frame and waved at her. “Hey, Francie.”

  “Hey, Burke.”

  “You don't mind if I steal your roomie, do you? I'd invite you along, but frankly, you'd cramp my moves.”

  Sydney couldn't help laughing again. Burke was so refreshingly up-front.

  “You're crazy!” she said, lightly slapping his arm. “And thanks for the flowers. But I'll have to take a rain check on dinner.”

  His face fell. “I should have called first, shouldn't I?”

  “It's not that. It's just . . .”

  How could she tell him what she'd decided in Hawaii? She needed a plan, a speech, a clear-cut way of ensuring they'd still be friends.

  And whatever she came up with, she couldn't tell him about Noah. Francie didn't even know about Noah yet. Besides, there was nothing settled between them. They'd spent most of a night talking, walking around Honolulu together, but no one had said the L word. No one had mentioned the future. They were spies, after all, and that made the future an uncertain thing.

  But there was something between them now. Something definite.

  Cooling things off with Burke was the right decision.

  Still . . .

  He seemed so thrilled to see her. And it was nice to have someone in her everyday life, someone who truly cared. Someone smart, and funny, and . . . hot.

  No. Do it now. Tell him now.

  “It's just that I wasn't expecting to go to such a fancy restaurant tonight,” she said, wimping out. “All of my evening gowns are at the cleaners.”

  “That is a dilemma.” His grin crept back. “Where are your bikinis?”

  “You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

  “I get it. Trick question. Right?”

  “Just go,” Francie piped in. “You have to eat.”

  Burke offered Sydney his arm, bent at the elbow as if they were attending a formal function. He stood there expectantly, waiting for her to take it. . . .

  And she did.

  “See you later, Francie,” she called as she walked out the door. “But not too much later,” she cautioned Burke. “I have a lot to do tonight.”

  “You're right,” he said, leading her down the hall. “After a splendid vegetarian repast, we're going to an old film festival at a completely pretentious art house I'll try to impress you with.”

  “I can't,” she said, pulling away.

  But Burke held on to her hand. “Lawrence of Arabia,” he wheedled. “Peter O'Toole with a tan. You know you want to.”

  And she did.

  “Okay. But that's it—after the movie I'm coming straight home.”

  “Right. Immediately after we stop for coffee and ice cream.”

  “You're impossible!”

  “I can be. But don't you kind of like it?”

  “Maybe,” she admitted.

  I still have to tell him, though. I'll tell him at the restaurant. No, that will ruin the movie. I'll tell him after, at coffee.

  She looked into his trusting hazel eyes, feeling
terrible. Burke had never been anything but nice to her, whereas Noah . . .

  I don't have to tell him tonight. I mean, I'll definitely tell him. Eventually.

  “It's so good to have you back,” he said. “It's probably not manly to admit this, but I really, really missed you.”

  “You did?”

  “Every day.” He stopped walking, as if a horrible thought had just struck him. “Wait a minute—is this the part where I'm supposed to act cool and detached? Because if it is, I want a do-over.”

  His grin was so infectious that Sydney grinned back, her heart thawing into a puddle.

  Tonight, tomorrow, the next day . . . Is there really such a rush?

  Noah was right when he called it a bad idea for agents to get involved in close relationships.

  He said it isn't fair to the people we love, that a spy can die any day.

  But Roxy taught me the real reason.

  It's because we can't trust anyone.

  Not anyone.

  Not ever.

  DON'T MISS ANY OF THE

  OFFICIAL ALIAS BOOKS

  FROM BANTAM BOOKS!

  DECLASSIFIED: THE OFFICIAL COMPANION

  THE PREQUEL SERIES

  RECRUITED

  A SECRET LIFE

  DISAPPEARED

  SISTER SPY

  AND COMING SOON

  THE PURSUIT / A MICHAEL VAUGHN NOVEL

  ALIAS: SISTER SPY

  A Bantam Book / May 2003

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