father’s men. This is his first homicide stint. He’s not going to fuck it up and lose a chance at getting a transfer he wants.”
Murdered? By his own father? A lance of sympathy sliced through her chest. Uncomfortable emotion that only complicated things further. She
shouldn’t
care. If she opened herself to that tug of feeling, all the rest that she’d blocked away would come crashing through. She stuffed another bite of cinnamon roll in her mouth, the flavor now dull. “He hawks over Kate.”
Long dark hair tumbled over Sergei’s face as he cocked his head and arched a scoundrel’s eyebrow. “Really? Not according to what she told me last night. Way I hear it, he hawked over you.”
Like bolts snapping into heavy doors, Natalya barred the warmth that flickered in her veins from spreading. She sat up straighter, chewed with more determination. “He did not.”
Sergei’s laughter echoed throughout the room. Shaking his head, he stood, gathered both their empty plates, and took them to the sink. “Give it up, babe. Your reaction yesterday, when Kate brought him up, says you’re done for.” He turned around and braced his elbows on the counter behind him. The amusement faded from his eyes. Hissmile gradually disappeared. “Use it to your advantage if you must. But get those transmitters passed out.”
In no mood to be presented with reasons why she
could
indulge in Brandon, Natalya abruptly stood. She hastily gulped down the rest of her coffee. “You can do it when you show up for work tonight. I got you the job. You’re on the floor in the main house. Brandon won’t let me onstage—I need you there. We’ve got to find out who perks up when Kate takes the stage.”
For one suspended heartbeat, she’d have sworn Sergei stiffened. But by the time she’d blinked, he was lounging against the countertop, ankles crossed, and looking every bit the casual Vegas vacationer in his rental kitchen. She dismissed his ramrod straight posture as a figment of her imagination and went to the door.
“Natalya?”
His quiet voice brought her to a stop. Warily, she looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“What if it doesn’t happen? What if we
don’t
make the connection before the twenty-fourth?”
Icy fingers scraped down her spine. One hand on the doorknob, she stilled, her chest suddenly too tight to draw in a normal breath. “I won’t let him take her, Sergei.”
“So we pull her out?”
As her throat inched closed, she swallowed down a rising lump that threatened to choke off her already scant air. What he didn’t say boomed louder than his words:
And blow everything we’ve worked toward for the last three years?
“She’s my sister. Dmitri will
not
have her.” Unwilling to consider the ramifications, she yanked the door open and fled. One way or the other, she’d see Kate and Derek to safety.
Failure is not an option.
Nine
S
tefan Moretti.
Sergei silently tried the name on to see how it fit. He’d been Alec for a handful of years as an agency rookie. Spent another few months in Colombia as Javier. But for more years than he could count, he’d considered himself Sergei Khitrovo, and he’d never stopped to consider what might come next.
The name he’d grown his skin in had certainly never crossed his mind. Stefan Moretti brought memories of trucks, wide Texan star-filled skies, girls in cheerleading skirts, and innocence. He was so far removed from that simple life that even considering acknowledging who he really was felt like fraud. Stefan Moretti, the boy who’d known how to navigate under a car hood better than he knew how to drive, died fifteen years ago. He should stay in the grave.
Tonight, though, he just might rise from the dead. Summoned, unbidden, like a demon from the otherworld conjured by some voodoo priestess.
A priestess known as Natalya, who couldn’t begin to comprehend the layers of dirt she’d pulled him through by finagling him a job.
He’d known
Murdered? By his own father? A lance of sympathy sliced through her chest. Uncomfortable emotion that only complicated things further. She
shouldn’t
care. If she opened herself to that tug of feeling, all the rest that she’d blocked away would come crashing through. She stuffed another bite of cinnamon roll in her mouth, the flavor now dull. “He hawks over Kate.”
Long dark hair tumbled over Sergei’s face as he cocked his head and arched a scoundrel’s eyebrow. “Really? Not according to what she told me last night. Way I hear it, he hawked over you.”
Like bolts snapping into heavy doors, Natalya barred the warmth that flickered in her veins from spreading. She sat up straighter, chewed with more determination. “He did not.”
Sergei’s laughter echoed throughout the room. Shaking his head, he stood, gathered both their empty plates, and took them to the sink. “Give it up, babe. Your reaction yesterday, when Kate brought him up, says you’re done for.” He turned around and braced his elbows on the counter behind him. The amusement faded from his eyes. Hissmile gradually disappeared. “Use it to your advantage if you must. But get those transmitters passed out.”
In no mood to be presented with reasons why she
could
indulge in Brandon, Natalya abruptly stood. She hastily gulped down the rest of her coffee. “You can do it when you show up for work tonight. I got you the job. You’re on the floor in the main house. Brandon won’t let me onstage—I need you there. We’ve got to find out who perks up when Kate takes the stage.”
For one suspended heartbeat, she’d have sworn Sergei stiffened. But by the time she’d blinked, he was lounging against the countertop, ankles crossed, and looking every bit the casual Vegas vacationer in his rental kitchen. She dismissed his ramrod straight posture as a figment of her imagination and went to the door.
“Natalya?”
His quiet voice brought her to a stop. Warily, she looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“What if it doesn’t happen? What if we
don’t
make the connection before the twenty-fourth?”
Icy fingers scraped down her spine. One hand on the doorknob, she stilled, her chest suddenly too tight to draw in a normal breath. “I won’t let him take her, Sergei.”
“So we pull her out?”
As her throat inched closed, she swallowed down a rising lump that threatened to choke off her already scant air. What he didn’t say boomed louder than his words:
And blow everything we’ve worked toward for the last three years?
“She’s my sister. Dmitri will
not
have her.” Unwilling to consider the ramifications, she yanked the door open and fled. One way or the other, she’d see Kate and Derek to safety.
Failure is not an option.
Nine
S
tefan Moretti.
Sergei silently tried the name on to see how it fit. He’d been Alec for a handful of years as an agency rookie. Spent another few months in Colombia as Javier. But for more years than he could count, he’d considered himself Sergei Khitrovo, and he’d never stopped to consider what might come next.
The name he’d grown his skin in had certainly never crossed his mind. Stefan Moretti brought memories of trucks, wide Texan star-filled skies, girls in cheerleading skirts, and innocence. He was so far removed from that simple life that even considering acknowledging who he really was felt like fraud. Stefan Moretti, the boy who’d known how to navigate under a car hood better than he knew how to drive, died fifteen years ago. He should stay in the grave.
Tonight, though, he just might rise from the dead. Summoned, unbidden, like a demon from the otherworld conjured by some voodoo priestess.
A priestess known as Natalya, who couldn’t begin to comprehend the layers of dirt she’d pulled him through by finagling him a job.
He’d known
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