The Blood Code by Misty Evans Page B

kit. The antibiotic cream Ryan had used on the wound had cleared up the infection, but without an infusion of clotting agent, the wound refused to heal completely.
    Make do for now. And stay the hell away from Ivanov’s dirk.
    As promised, she was ready for breakfast in fifteen minutes. The Palace of Facets was the largest banquet room Anya had ever seen. Italian frescoes decorated the walls, mammoth columns and domed ceilings in a beautiful balance of blues and golds. Tiered candelabras hung from the high ceilings, each tier holding white electric candles.
    There was no time, however, to take in all of the beautiful surroundings. As Anya entered the banquet hall, Inga on her left and Andreev on her right, she was at once under Ivanov’s scrutiny.
    He didn’t look like a man who’d spent the night passed out on the couch. He didn’t look like an assassin. Showered and shaved, he was dressed in a black designer suit, white shirt, and red tie. The moment his gaze landed on her, he smiled broadly and opened his arms as if to hug her.
    The sight of him made her queasy and angry all at the same time. Was he really the monster who had killed her parents? Under the still-curious eyes of the guests, she had to play along. She gritted her teeth and stepped into his embrace.
    Always appearing the gentleman, he did nothing more than lay his hands on her upper arms, and air kiss each of her cheeks in greeting. “ Dobroye utro .”
    Lacking a better hiding place, and knowing her room might be searched while she was absent, she’d tucked the warrants once again inside her bra. They seemed to press into her skin like a brand as she forced a smile. She returned his greeting deliberately in English. “Good morning.”
    His eyes twinkled. “You look beautiful.”
    She very much doubted that, since her hair was still damp and the only makeup she’d had time for was one sweep of mascara and a coating of cherry ChapStick. But she couldn’t have cared less whether he approved of the way she looked. The scent of buckwheat pancakes, sausages, and eggs filled the air. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”
    Immediately, he ushered her to his table where her order was taken by one of the waiters from the previous night. Inga and Andreev moved off. While Anya waited for her breakfast, she scanned the various tables of people and saw the person she was looking for. Ryan stood near one of the columns, sipping coffee, and speaking to the ambassador from the US Embassy. He was dressed in a dark gray suit with a clean-cut, tailored edge to it, white button-down shirt, and pale blue tie. When he caught her staring, he gave her a slight nod.
    “You slipped out last night,” Ivanov said. “I am afraid I was a poor host.”
    Dropping her gaze from Ryan, Anya opened her cloth napkin and placed it in her lap. Then she glanced at Ivanov. The guilt on his face surprised her. “It was a long day. We were both tired.”
    He seemed relieved. “Today the summit begins and I will be tied up with meetings. Tonight there will be another dinner, and afterwards, I promise to spend time with you and not fall asleep.”
    The chagrin in his voice was genuine. The desire in his eyes, seeking her forgiveness, was as well.
    In the bright light of day, the idea he’d once been an assassin seemed preposterous. The MYI had to belong to another man. Maybe he’s not the man in black. Maybe he didn’t kill my parents. Maybe he can reasonable.
    But as she picked up her coffee cup, the warrants bit into her skin. He was the man in black, she was sure of it. And his charm was nothing more than a façade.
    The Belgian waffle she’d ordered arrived, covered in strawberries and whipped cream. It smelled delicious, but Anya no longer felt like eating. After her parents’ murders, she’d told Grams what she’d witnessed, and Grams had panicked, making Anya swear never to tell another human being what she’d seen. She’d packed up her and Anya’s belongings two