In Sheep's Clothing

by Susan May Warren

  “For He has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; He has not hidden His face from him, but has listened to his cry for help…” But God had heard her cry for help. Over and over.

  And provided.

  “The poor will eat and be satisfied. They who seek the Lord will praise Him—may your hearts live forever.”

  Gracie opened her eyes as the words settled. Had she truly let herself be satisfied with God? Or had she spent all her time feeding herself on what she thought might taste good to her impoverished soul? Had she truly let God satisfy her?

  Probably not. She’d spent a lot of time trying to satisfy God, instead. Just like Vicktor, perhaps, trying to work himself clean of his sins. It was time for that to change. “Lord, I want to seek You. I want to let You satisfy me. Show me what that means.”

  She stiffened, suddenly aware of a warm breath behind her.

  “Cold, Gracie?”

  “No, not cold, Vicktor. Just…thinking.” She half turned to face him. The stars lit his beautiful eyes and a blanket of emerging whiskers darkened his square, stubborn chin. He smiled, a crooked, white grin, and it sent a shiver of delight down her spine. She noticed he’d left his jacket inside, and his unbuttoned shirt pulled slightly against his chest and through the arms. In the light of the romantic moon, he was deliciously, dangerously handsome.

  “Thinking about what?”

  She swallowed. “God. How He’s protected me. Through you.”

  He frowned. “I…I’m trying.” He sighed. “I hope so.”

  The breeze whispered through his hair, caught his cologne, sent it to her. He made her feel so…safe.

  That thought landed in a soft place in her heart. God had sent her to a man that made her feel safe?

  Vicktor ran a finger down her cheek. “I still can’t believe you took a flying leap off my father’s balcony.” His eyes caught hers and she saw something soft flicker in them. “You scared me.”

  “I’m—” She opened her mouth, but the look on his face stopped her. His eyes caught hers, he touched her face. And then he kissed her. His touch was sweet, soft, unhurried.

  She closed her eyes. Vicktor. For a second she leaned into him, needing this moment, wanting to sink into his protection, forgetting completely who she was and where she’d been. Vicktor.

  She felt him tremble, as if holding in emotions. And he tasted so good, of coffee and tenderness, and it made her want to wrap her arms around him. But something tugged in the back of her brain. Common sense or…reason…or…

  He cupped her face in his hands, pulled away and searched her face. “I was hoping, but this was more than—”

  “No, Vicktor, please.” Her voice emerged too quickly, too high. She backed away from him. Probably the other side of the world wasn’t far enough away to keep her from feeling his longing, or hers, radiating between them. Lord, help me not fall for him! Only, she had the wretched feeling it was too late.

  “What’s the matter?” He looked stricken. “Did I hurt your elbow?”

  Gracie felt a fool. She hadn’t panicked when Andrei had hugged her.

  But this was different. Andrei hadn’t kissed her. And the fondness she had for Andrei couldn’t begin to scale the mountain of emotions she felt for Vicktor. The man who had just admitted that she’d scared him when she’d disappeared this morning.

  Scared him. Imagine that. She moved back another step, trying to ignore the hurt on his face. “It’s not my elbow.” She shook her head. “Vicktor, I can’t…”

  “Oh.” The soft look in his eyes vanished. “I’m sorry I offended you.” He turned and ran a hand through his hair. A breath shuddered out of him. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  At his defeated tone, tears nipped at her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. One sweep of his blue eyes and she’d be back in his arms.

  And would that be a great souvenir of her missionary trip to Russia? A broken heart? She would not, would not be someone who dated a non-Christian in hopes he would get saved.

  Besides…outside this moment, their future had zero chance of success. Especially after he discovered she wasn’t the person he thought.

  Used goods. The old taunts landed just a little too close. She stared at Vicktor, at his wide back, his tensing muscles. She couldn’t let him think this was about him. He’d been more than a gentleman, over and over. Yes, she couldn’t date him. But there was more.

  She touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Vicktor. It’s not you. It’s…well, I’m afraid.”

  He turned, and something like disappointment ringed his eyes. “Gracie, I would never hurt you.” His voice dove to a whisper. “I want you to trust me.”

  “Listen to me.” She shortened the gap between them. “Something happened to me…years ago…”

  Vicktor frowned. Oh please, Lord, do I have to? But, if she didn’t, Vicktor would never know how much she felt like God had plucked him out of the landscape to teach her to trust.

  That thought rushed through her. God, teaching her to trust a man?

  “I do trust you.” Her own words burrowed deep into her heart. “I’m not afraid of you,” she repeated, and the look in his eyes took her breath away. Vulnerable, hoping. A wall cracked open and behind it she glimpsed an ache so deep it made her want to cry.

  “Years ago, I was attacked by a man I trusted.”

  A frown formed on his face. Oh no, wait, Vicktor. I can’t do this if you freak out. She licked her lips and looked away, toward the rustling pear trees. She thought of Yanna’s story, the laughter and friendship that had been carved from a near tragedy. Her own memories were so different. How she wished a man like Roman, or Vicktor or even this David person had been there the night she’d wrestled Tommy for her honor…and lost.

  She tried to speak through the sudden crunching of her chest. “He raped me.”

  Nothing.

  She looked at Vicktor.

  His eyes were closed, his jaw tight. He wore a sick expression.

  What had she done? She felt like an idiot and it was all she could do to stand there and not howl. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  “Oh, Gracie.” He opened his eyes and the agony in them made her tremble. He swallowed, and when words emerged his voice sounded tight, even close to tears. “I’m sorry.”

  She hadn’t expected this. “Vicktor, I’m okay. I mean, yes, it was horrible, and it’s taken me a few years to get over it. And probably I’ll never really be over it, but I know that I’m forgiven—”

  “You, forgiven?” He gave a harsh laugh. “I should probably be asking forgiveness for the thoughts I have right now. Like, wanting to track down this jerk and…well, you probably don’t want to know.” He was shaking. “But the thought of someone doing that, to you.” He blew out a breath. “You’ve nothing to be forgiven for.”

  She stared at him, feeling her emotions pile up against her heart. “I sorta felt like I…had caused it. Because he was a friend. Someone that I dated. And I went back to his dorm room.”

  Vicktor’s eyes widened and he stared at her with horror. “You thought that I…” He held up his hands. “Oh, Gracie, I am so sorry. I promise, I would never, ever—” He turned, stalked away. “I’ll sleep outside tonight.”

  No, that wasn’t what she’d wanted to tell him at all.

  She ran to catch up with him, caught his shirt. “Vicktor. Calm down. I told you all that because…because I know I can trust you. And I wanted to tell you why I was sort of—”

  “Jumpy?” He turned and shook his head. “Of course you were. And for good reason. I feel like a brute. I forced you to stay in my apartment—”

  “—and provided chaperones.”

  “And now you’re here all alone with me.”

  “Of my own free will.” She stared into his beautiful eyes. “And, while I might not kiss you, I’m telling you, Mr. FSB, that I trust you.”

  He stared at her, his emotions right there for her to grab.

  She trie
d to deflect his gaze, but it sent tingles down to her toes. “I still want you to stand guard near the door, to protect me. I’ll be upstairs.”

  His grim expression softened, and he broke out in a smile. “Of course.” Then, he cupped her neck, wove his fingers through her hair and leaned close. She froze, suddenly realizing how very badly she wanted him to kiss her. Lord, I’m so weak.

  But, he kissed her on her forehead. The touch of his lips brushing against her skin sent a trail of heat to her toes. Then he caressed her face with his eyes roving over her eyes, her nose, stopping at her mouth. Her lips parted.

  No.

  The command came from inside, from the places beyond desire.

  No.

  She closed her mouth, her gaze on him, and shook her head.

  Without warning, Vicktor turned around and pushed her behind him. She gasped, stumbled and hung on to his arm.

  “What?” She squinted into the shadows.

  “Kto tam?” Vicktor yelled.

  Someone was out there?

  “Don’t shoot!” Andrei walked into the moonlight, hands raised.

  Vicktor continued to hold her behind his back. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s okay.” Gracie pushed away from Vicktor. “I asked him to come.”

  Andrei lowered his arms. “We have to go.” Even in the dim light, his face looked pale. He called out again and his tone froze Gracie to the bone. “They know you’re here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “How do you know that?” Fury started in Vicktor’s gut and surged white hot through him. He didn’t wait for an answer. Rage possessed him and he hurtled himself at Andrei. The chauffeur threw up an arm in defense, but Vicktor dodged it and angled an uppercut at Andrei’s jaw. Pain exploded in his fist.

  Andrei grunted and staggered backward. Vicktor leaped on him, landed on his chest, hit him in the face. Andrei’s head jerked to the side. Blood spattered from his nose.

  “Vicktor, no!”

  Gracie’s voice splintered the wave of anger. Vicktor hesitated.

  Andrei cuffed him across the face.

  Tasting blood, Vicktor fell back, taking Andrei with him by the neck of his shirt. Andrei’s eyes darkened. A snarl built into Vicktor’s next blow. He whipped back his arm—

  “No, Vicktor! Stop!”

  Vicktor’s fist skimmed Gracie’s shoulder as she jumped between them.

  “Agh!”

  Her cry of pain shook him and he staggered backward. “Gracie! Get away!”

  She turned, her face knotted in horror. “Why, so you can finish the job?” She turned to Andrei. “Are you okay?”

  Shock rooted Vicktor to the ground. “Did you hear what he said?”

  She looked at Vicktor, eyes blank. “Yes. That we need to get out of here.” Andrei swallowed and scooted back, putting a healthy distance between them. “Andrei, what’s wrong?” Gracie asked, frowning.

  Vicktor leaped to his feet. He closed the gap in two steps and grabbed Andrei’s worn leather jacket. “Repeat what you said for Gracie, please.”

  Andrei glowered at him.

  “Do it now or I’ll empty this into your rib cage.”

  Andrei glanced down as Vicktor screwed his pistol into the driver’s stomach.

  “That’s not necessary. I’m trying to save her life,” Andrei said in a tight voice.

  Gracie stood a foot behind them. “Vicktor, what are you doing? Leave him alone!”

  “Elaborate,” Vicktor growled.

  Andrei glanced at the gun.

  Vicktor shook his head.

  The anger drained from Andrei’s face with a sigh. “Please, we have to leave now. I’ll tell you in the car.”

  Vicktor squinted at him. Gracie’s hand settled on his coat. Her pale face spoke confusion.

  “Get our things, Gracie,” he said quietly. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  Vicktor had her locked in the back seat of Andrei’s Toyota Camry like a child. Gracie shivered, despite being wrapped in Vicktor’s coat.

  Seeing Vicktor, the man she had nearly given her heart to, hold a gun on Andrei, her best friend, had turned her colder than she’d ever been, even staring at Evelyn’s corpse. And the expression on Vicktor’s face now did absolutely nothing to calm her ragged nerves.

  She wouldn’t be surprised if, should Andrei even look at Vicktor the wrong way, she’d have to hurtle over the seat to stop Vicktor from pummeling Andrei. Her shoulder still hurt from where his fist had grazed it.

  She bit her lip and gazed at Andrei in the rearview mirror. His expression lodged her heart in her throat. Andrei’s fists were tight on the steering wheel, and from the way the car was spitting up rocks on the gravel, he was serious about their getaway.

  She reached for her seat belt. “Vicktor, please, put your gun away.” The look he gave her made her shrink into her seat. “You’re scaring me.”

  His expression softened, but he didn’t lower the gun. “Sorry.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” she asked Vicktor. He was taking this protection thing over the top. Muscles streaked up his forearms and his back was against his door. He looked like he was taking target practice.

  “Ask your friend.”

  “Andrei?” Gracie leaned forward in her seat.

  “Pull over,” Vicktor said quietly.

  His tone made Gracie wince. “Vicktor, don’t hurt him. Please.”

  He glanced at her. “We need to hear what Andrei has to say and I don’t want to get us killed while we’re having our conversation.”

  Gracie stared at him. Killed?

  Andrei pulled over. Moonlight bathed them in an eerie pale glow.

  Vicktor took a deep breath, his eyes on Andrei. “Gracie, did I ever tell you that I spent six months in America, working with the Seattle police force?”

  Gracie frowned. Now he wanted to chat about his past? “Um, no.”

  “Yeah.” He switched his gun to one hand, pushed the gear shift into park. “I loved it. Not only did I refine my English, but I made a few good friends. And I learned something.”

  She swallowed the lump of dread in her throat.

  “I learned that I also liked being a Russian cop. You see, Gracie, American cops are handcuffed by rules and paperwork.” He narrowed his eyes at Andrei. “But here, we’re not so fussy. The law has shades of gray.”

  “Vicktor, there are no gray areas in this car. Andrei is my friend. And you’re overreacting.”

  A sigh rumbled from Vicktor’s chest. “Andrei, don’t make me sorrier that I didn’t arrest you two days ago. And remember, I’ll do what I have to, to save Gracie’s life.”

  “What?” Gracie felt her world shift on its axis.

  Vicktor’s eyes never left Andrei. “Gracie, sit back and don’t say a word.”

  Andrei’s gaze searched for hers in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, Gracie.”

  He turned to Vicktor. “I didn’t have to come. I could have stayed in Khabarovsk. I could have let him get her.”

  “Who?” Vicktor said it, but Gracie’s mouth parted, breathing the question. Him?

  Andrei shook his head.

  Vicktor raised the gun.

  “Listen, I’m just trying to keep her alive. This is bigger than you, Shubnikov. I can’t tell you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Andrei swallowed loudly. “They’re after something they think Gracie has. I figured it out as soon as I saw her apartment. I should have said something before they shot at us. I’m sorry for that.” He glanced at the rearview mirror.

  Gracie felt her chest spasm.

  “Who shot at you?” Vicktor’s hand clenched on the gun handle.

  “Two men. I recognized one of them—and that’s when I knew.”

  “Knew what?” Gracie blurted.

  Andrei turned toward her. His face contorted with sadness. “Knew they’d tracked Dr. Willie’s information to you.”

  Dr. Willie? “What are you talking about? I don’t have any
information.”

  “The cancer vaccine,” Vicktor said coldly.

  Andrei nodded. “That’s why the Youngs were killed. And now they’re after Gracie.”

  Gracie opened her mouth, dredged up words. “I don’t know anything about this so-called cure.”

  “Did you know Leonid had cancer?” Vicktor asked Andrei.

  He nodded.

  “So Leonid became his guinea pig.”

  Gracie cringed at his words.

  “No, actually, it was the other way around,” Andrei said. “Leonid got cancer. He got his hands on an experimental drug, but wanted Dr. Willie to follow the treatment. Dr. Willie refused, but Leonid said he’d do it even without Dr. Willie’s help, so the doc monitored his progress.”

  “Dr. Young didn’t design this drug?”

  Andrei shook his head.

  “How did Leonid get it?”

  “Some doctor doing experiments in his back-door lab. That’s why it wasn’t legit.”

  Vicktor’s gun hand shook slightly. “A back-door lab?” Andrei nodded. Vicktor’s eyes darkened. “Who do you work for?”

  Andrei ducked his head. “The KGB.”

  Silence rocked the car.

  Gracie’s breath lodged in her throat.

  Vicktor’s face washed white.

  Andrei closed his eyes. “I’m not an agent. I merely obey orders and report what I see.”

  “You’re a stoolie,” accused Vicktor.

  Andrei looked away, out the front window.

  “How long?” Gracie stuttered.

  He didn’t look at her. “Ten years.”

  Something hard slammed into her chest and she gasped for air. Vicktor reached over the seat, and she was vaguely aware of him touching her hand.

  “Start at the beginning,” Vicktor said quietly.

  Vicktor fought the anger roiling through him. The last thing he wanted to do was to come apart in front of Gracie. Andrei had been an informant, a plant assigned to Gracie. What had he told the secret police about his victim? Vicktor didn’t know what emotion to give in to—anger or compassion. He held Gracie’s limp, cold hand. The other hand gripped the handle of the gun, aimed at Andrei’s ear.