Kiss the Killer [From the CIA 2](BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Dawn Kunda

  He tapped his phone on its edge against the table. Rubbing his hand across his stubbly chin, he wondered how much harder it would be to help Alina in and out of Iraq along with retrieving Ferrier to safety all in one effort. He knew it was a bad idea from the get-go. He knew he’d attempt it.

  He’d first contact the Egyptian Parliament leader, Shehata, and create a favorable deal. In retribution for his daughter’s murder, Shehata would get Vic in and out of Iraq. It was well known that a leader would go to insane lengths to kill the killer. Shehata didn’t need to know the reason Alina and Ferrier would play a part. Too many details would complicate the issue.

  Vic was well educated on Bret Ferrier’s situation since Vic had been ordered to send Ferrier underground. Shehata would have an attack fully planned against his daughter’s murderers almost simultaneous to Vic’s approach with the deal. Vic’s evolving plan placed him as the leader of Shehata’s retribution. The sticky chapter would be a complete story from Alina.

  It was time to get it.

  Chapter 9

  The snow and cold of the countryside claimed a spot along the roads, valleys, and branches of evergreens. Vic followed the dual tracks highlighting the roadway. He scanned his surroundings while his car merged with the slow sightseers checking the view for other reasons.

  He learned from past operations that winter favored the offense. In other words, whoever did the chasing had an advantage over the chased.

  He played the chaser and chased. As a “chaser,” he sought out his agents with the intent to help them escape the game set up by CIA Operations Director Kreis, his former boss. Kreis wants the agents dead, gone, and forgotten. Kreis also has intentions for Vic to end up underground or in the ocean, which made him “chased.” Vic thought of another player in the game, Alina. He didn’t know if she was being chased by anyone, but the odds played out against her when dealing with chemicals in Iraq and trying to save a possible hostage.

  What the hell was Alina thinking? She can’t possibly come out on top by herself.

  Vic watched the pines and hardwood extend their branches, appearing to enjoy the fluff of snow decorating their limbs, as he neared Alina’s house. Maybe when he’d finished cleaning up the mess he and his agents were in, he’d retire in a deserted, snow-covered, foreign land. He only hoped he would win this game, so he could retire from it.

  He drove down Alina’s driveway, avoiding a few slick spots on the graveled surface. Everything looked calm and peaceful, almost like he planned on visiting a friend for the afternoon. The llama lumbered at its usual spot with its head held over the fence. Funny how he could stand in the path of imminent danger, guns pointed and firing, yet the beast he had definite intentions of staying clear of.

  Without contemplating a greeting, he rapped on the side door while he turned the handle and pushed the barrier in. Alina jumped in her chair at the kitchen table. Her hand trembled as she covered her mouth. Her response to his barging in was akin to fear, if he wasn’t mistaken. What did she fear that made her react so strongly?

  “Uh, hi.” Alina pushed her chair back from the table and began to rise.

  “You can stay seated. We have to talk.” Vic encouraged himself not to waste time. The sun struck her hazel eyes, expounding on the clear mix of browns and translucent green, as she swung toward the west window. The sun outlined her curvy and luscious body. This is a work visit. Don’t forget that. He glanced at the swatch of paper lain out in front of her where she’d sat.

  Her hand braced the edge of the table. She crept her fingers to the mystery note and crumpled it in her palm. “I didn’t say you could come in.” Her voice shook.

  “I didn’t ask.” She sank back into the chair. He gazed at her hand with the wadded up paper, letting her know he didn’t miss a thing, and then stared back at her. “Before I start with my questions”—he strode toward her and she shrank in her chair—“do you want to tell me about what you obviously don’t want me to see?”

  She dipped her head as he stared at her still clenched hand.

  He softened his voice. “I’m not going to bite you.” He opened both hands, reaching with one. “Can I see what you have there?”

  She tucked her leg beneath her and looked at him again. “Did you leave me this note?”

  His eyes narrowed briefly. “I don’t leave notes.” Her hand loosened, yet she kept the note to herself. “Did someone threaten you?”

  She looked down and then met his stare again. “Not exactly, well…I don’t know.”

  Tired of the back-and-forth, he put his hand over hers. “It’s obviously not a love letter. Maybe I can make sense of it.” Her fingers relaxed and he gently eased the paper from her grip. He watched her reaction as he unfolded it. The words, Don’t run. You’ll only get tired, told him a lot in conjunction with the little he knew about her. “You have no idea who left this?” She shook her head. “Do you understand what this means? Have you told anyone about this, your boss, the police?”

  “No!” The first words she shouted without thinking since he’d arrived.

  “Why not?” He tried not to yell, but he couldn’t believe she was naive enough to ignore the threat.

  “Because.”

  “That’s not good enough. Because why?” He slapped his hand on the table.

  “Because I just want it all to go away.”

  He leaned down, close to her face as she pushed back from him. “It won’t go away and you’re sure making it damned hard on yourself to have a chance to save your sister, or cousin, or whomever you said you had to go back to Iraq and rescue.”

  “My cousin.” She whispered the words.

  He straightened and rubbed his hand across his hardened jaw. “Okay, your cousin. Is she tied to this note?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice rose. “I don’t know. I got the letter before we…met. Nothing has happened since.”

  “From what you’ve told me, that you work as a chemical engineer—”

  “Analyst.”

  “—And you went to Iraq and now want to return, so this is a death threat.”

  “Well…why am I still alive then?”

  Vic pulled an extra chair next to her and sat. He rested his hand on her arm and felt it stiffen in response. “We need to know who left this.”

  “I have no—”

  “Let me finish. It’s not from a terrorist, or at least the messenger wasn’t a terrorist. I’m sure that’s what you think, that it was a terrorist, since your last work was in Iraq. Whoever did this wants you to think that.” Her eyebrows rose. “A terrorist would not leave you a warning. A terrorist would not come this far and leave business unfinished. A terrorist would have killed you, and probably himself, immediately.”

  “Then it can’t be that bad?” He sensed her questioning her own judgment.

  “Yeah, it’s a good thing it isn’t. But it’s someone else that wants something from you and needs you alive. And it’s someone that intends to get what he came for.” He didn’t add that she’d probably end up dead after the writer of the message was done with her. That was unless he stepped in.

  “I suppose this means you aren’t going to help me go back to Iraq?”

  “I have an idea for that.” Her face brightened a shade with interest. “You’ll have to do it my way, though.”

  * * * *

  Alina’s heart pounded. Everything, the note, her cousin’s safety, and this near-stranger in her kitchen began to cause an anxious rush of adrenaline. “What if I can’t do it your way? What if my way is better?”

  Vic’s jaw tightened. It was a masculine jaw in need of a shave, or maybe not. The dark stubbles on his chin could make her panties wet, if she stared too long. Unbelievable that sexually motivated thoughts coincided with the idea of her cousin’s captivity. She had a hard time admitting her own life hung by a precarious scrap of paper. It couldn’t be possible. That happened to other people.

  “If you can’t do it my way, then we won’t be going to Iraq tog
ether.” She snapped her head up, taken from her thoughts. “I don’t know why I bother, as a matter of fact, but for some reason you definitely need my help.”

  His sharp words caused her to consider that he might be getting something out of it, that he might be part of her danger. Be strong. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you. “I just don’t—” Her phone rang.

  She looked to the illuminated screen. It was her boss’s number glowing. As of now, he was her former boss.

  “Go ahead and answer it.” Vic waved his hand to her cell phone.

  She reached for the phone and then looked at him with hesitation.

  He backed away and turned toward the west window. “I won’t listen.”

  Turning her back to him, she answered the call. “Hello.” Her hand trembled as she listened. She felt heat flush her cheeks. “I…I have no idea.” She winced at the conversation. “I will. Thank you for letting me know.”

  She hugged the phone to her chest, taking an extended breath. Vic turned back to her and then rushed to her side. “You’re upset. Can I ask what happened?”

  Tears seeped down her cheek. All manner of her carefully constructed control fled. “My…my psychiatrist…she’s been murdered.”

  “Jesus.” Without any resistance, she allowed his arms to wrap around her exhausted body. He pulled her into his powerful chest.

  After a round of sobs and gathering her strength, she gently pushed him away. “My boss called and said Dr. Korbic was shot within minutes of me leaving.” Fortunately, he didn’t highlight the fact that she was seeing a shrink. “He, my boss, said there was a note on a ‘scrap of paper.’ Like mine.”

  With a soothing voice, Vic asked, “Did he say what was on the paper?”

  “I think so, but I can’t remember exactly what he said. I must’ve quit listening by then, but it was similar to the one I got.”

  Alina looked up and wiped the back of her hand across her wet eyes. He glanced around the small house like he was trying to make some kind of decision.

  “Uh, I don’t mean to frighten you or have you make any immediate decisions, but you need to get out of here. Now.”

  A strand of resistance returned. “My boss didn’t seem to think I needed to leave.”

  “Does he know about your note? Does he know your plan to return for your cousin?” His lips formed a firm line.

  “Well, no, but—”

  “But what? Whoever killed your doctor could’ve meant it to be you, or it could be a more tangible warning.” Her mouth opened and closed. “That’s what I thought. Do you have anywhere else you can go?” Vic paced over to the same window.

  “Not really. My family lives south of Stockholm, but I don’t want them involved in this.” She watched him pace and caught a glimpse of Gerty through the window. “I can’t leave my llama alone.”

  “I’m sure you can find someone to take care of her for a while. What were you going to do with her when you leave for Iraq anyway?”

  “There’s a veterinarian a half mile from here. I thought I’d ask him.”

  “Good enough. Get a bag packed and we’ll stop in.”

  “I can’t just—”

  “Yes, you can, and yes, you will.” Vic came toward her and settled his big, strong hands on her shoulders, directing her to her bedroom. Whoever ‘they’ are, they’re after you, and we’re leaving before they get here.”

  She couldn’t argue with his logic. “Since you’re forcing me to leave, where’re we going?”

  “Tonight, my house. Tomorrow, Egypt.”

  She whirled around as her eyes sprang wide. “Egypt? What does that have to do with me?”

  Chapter 10

  Only because clouds filled the sky before the sun sank below the horizon, it appeared to be hours later than the actual time when they pulled up to Vic’s apartment. Alina had gotten her bag ready faster than the typical woman. A quick and successful stop at the veterinarian’s assured them of Gerty’s health for the next week. They had the rest of the evening to smooth out his roughly formulated plan.

  He parked his vehicle by his apartment, jumped put, removed her bag from the trunk, and opened her car door. She didn’t make a move to exit. “We don’t have any time to waste. Let’s get inside.”

  She looked up at him with a doubtful expression.

  “You’re going to have to trust me. There’s no one else to help you now. Unless you want to contact your boss again and ask what he thinks?”

  She pulled her purse into the curve of her legs and waist.

  “I’ll answer most of your questions, enough to convince you we’re doing the right thing.” He could tell her the basics of his plan, but some of the details would have to remain unknown for now. She wouldn’t be happy if she knew everything, the addition of a deadly retribution for the Egyptian leader’s murdered daughter and seeking out his agent along with finding her cousin. He’d need her to take part in his missions, too. “I won’t take advantage of you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I can be a gentleman.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a fraction at his last statement. “Okay. I don’t have much choice now.”

  “Actually you do, but I know that if I don’t help you you’ll take off on your own and get yourself killed. I might feel a little responsible if that happens.” He stared until she matched his look.

  Without another word, she exited his car. The wind picked up and tossed her hair over her face as he took her arm and led her to his door. He tried not to notice the closeness and warmth of the woman he’d seen and touched naked so few nights ago. He reprimanded himself to stave off thinking of her as anything else than his responsibility for the second of many missions in recovering his team of agents covertly abandoned by his country. The first mission, done alone by the agents themselves, alerted him to the problem. As far as he had heard, Cal Guevin and Mary Reiss were safe in Austria.

  Even if the group of agents had been left at their stations by Uncle Sam, no one would believe the most prosperous and powerful country, the United States of America, would treat its agents of the law as if they’d been left for the wolves. He knew they had been. His plan to help Alina find her cousin might fit in nicely with his agent in Iraq.

  Inside the confines of his two-room apartment, an extra person brought life to the drab interior. The understuffed furniture survived what appeared to be an extra decade after the warranty. The worn arms and seats of the sofa and living room chair barely held the rusty color, or maybe it had been a dark orange at one time. He hadn’t sat on either since his recent arrival. Her bag made a muffled thud as he dropped it next to the chair. She stood and glanced around.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” He waved his hand to the kitchen and living room in one small gesture. “I’m going to get busy and finish setting up our equipment and papers for the trip.”

  Alina half-leaned onto a kitchen chair, watching him spread out a stack of papers next to a computer and printer. “You said something about Egypt.” He looked up at her briefly and then continued shuffling his notes. “What does Egypt have to do with getting Christa from Iraq?”

  He had a prepared answer. “It would be less dangerous to take a circuitous route.” He halted the movement of the paperwork and turned to her. “I’m not the expert to have to make passports and other documents, but I have enough track behind me to get it right.” He lifted the end of his printer and slid new passports onto the table along with IDs.

  Her mouth dropped a notch. She slowly reached for the documents. He watched her reaction. Her surprise was expected, yet he worried that she’d think he was too much and part of an underworld she’d want to stay out of. “These will work?”

  “Yeah, and like I said, we’ll take a detour on the way south to throw off anyone watching.”

  Her head shot up. “Do you think we’ll be followed?”

  He tightened his lips and couldn’t keep everything from her. “Yes, someone or maybe a few will be watching at times. There’s no way that whoever lef
t the notes and killed your doctor doesn’t have an ulterior motive for their actions. If they were worried about not being successful in their mission, they’d have taken you down immediately.” Frozen in place, she listened attentively. “They’re not just some thugs or amateur group. This is a planned and thought-out process they’re using, so you can be sure they have an idea on how they want the game to end in their favor.”

  “Okay.” She never added much to the story, whether she was able to or not. At least he’d be taking her countries away from here for a while. Whoever wanted her would have a lot more tangles in their hunt.

  He turned to his sink, filled a glass coffee pot with water, and dumped it into its reservoir. “I’m not an expert at this, but there are some tea bags in this drawer.” He pulled on a metal handle to reveal a stash of generic teas. Another cupboard held plastic coffee cups, suitable for him.

  “Sit. I’ll pour you a cup when the water’s hot.” He surreptitiously watched her, not sure if she’d bolt or agree with his plan. “I just moved in here, you can probably see that, so the sheets are clean on my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

  “I’d rather not use your room.”

  He poured a cup of hot water before the whole pot finished brewing. Calmly slipping a tea bag into the cup of steaming water, he set it in front of her. “I’d rather you did. I need to be ready.” He gathered she understood his inference, but he explained. “In case anyone has a notion they might come in tonight, I’d rather be the first to greet them.”

  She was easy to persuade as long as he gave her enough reason to listen. He’d have to remember that.

  “The first cup’s pretty strong. Sorry.” He grimaced after a swallow of his own prepared tea.

  “I like it this way. Thank you,” she said as an afterthought.