Don't Look Back, page 22
“I suppose it’s my fault, really. I begged Mom and Dad to send me to school. Mom didn’t want me to go. She’d been homeschooling me and doing a damn good job, considering I was far ahead of my biological age in my studies. At least in the curriculum, I could keep up.”
“You were brilliant, Kira. We all knew it. And you were shy and sweet.” She paused, then added, “I know it doesn’t feel like this right now, considering what you went through in school, but I believe your parents were trying to protect you.”
“My mother was having an affair with Conrad. She was trying to protect herself.” Her tone was bitter.
“That may be so, but Luka is a dangerous man and very, very powerful. There’s a reason Reuben has a good shot at a minister position in the next government, and it’s not because Luka is kind and generous and respected by his peers. He is feared by them. When the president wants someone gone, but doesn’t want the taint, he whispers to Luka, and it’s taken care of.
“On paper, Luka has just enough distance from the current president to not have his assets seized in the recent round of sanctions against Russian oligarchs, but only just. And Reuben is shortening that distance, not widening it.”
“If my parents were protecting me, why leave her son behind?”
“I can only speculate there, but in all probability, he was too old to forget his father. And no way would Luka lose his only son without draining the Mediterranean to try to find him.”
Kira placed a hand over her mouth to silence her sobs. Her brother had been sacrificed, left with a cold, dangerous man, only to become one himself.
She thought of her mother’s lifelong sadness and the empty cradle in the portrait that hid in the basement. Her mother had loved her son, but still, she’d abandoned him in an act of selfishness while saving her daughter.
“I’ve—I’ve got to go.” She hit the End button and set the phone on the center console, curled into a ball, and silently sobbed while Rand stroked her back with one hand and steered the car down the Maltese highway with the other.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
There was nothing Rand wanted more than to pull over and hold Kira, but the longer they were in this car, the more dangerous their situation would become. So he drove. And drove. One hand on Kira, one hand on the wheel, until the streets grew busier as they neared Valletta, and he needed both hands to weave through a sea of erratic drivers.
Losing just that small physical contact was disappointing, but she was no longer crying. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead as she took slow, deep breaths.
This was how she centered herself. He’d seen it before. He wondered if it was something she learned in childhood, when her world changed in an instant, and she later was thrust into social situations she wasn’t ready for.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he thought about what she’d told him yesterday about Apollo. He’d been twenty to her seventeen, except now they both knew she’d only been fourteen. It wasn’t Apollo’s fault, and it wasn’t hers. They’d both believed she was old enough to make that choice, but she wasn’t.
No wonder it had left such lasting scars.
Part of him wanted to strangle Conrad Hanson, but he knew the man must have been equally horrified when he saw Kira’s grief for Apollo and realized what had happened.
There was no one to blame but Conrad and Anna, who hadn’t envisioned what Kira would go through when they made the decision to hide her true age when she was only four years old.
His very first meeting with Kira, he’d been surprised by her age, but still, she looked young for thirty-six. He’d thought she was in her late twenties.
But she was close to his age. He’d turned thirty-six in March. Kira’s birthday was supposed to be in August, but it was likely even the month of her birth had been changed. Whenever it was, would she turn thirty-six or thirty-seven?
Freya would probably have that information by now, but they wouldn’t call her until they were at the apartment. And Rand had other, more important calls to make first.
Finally, they reached the massive bus terminal. Rand found a parking spot on the nearby street and walked with purpose toward the main terminal with the lines of buses that pulled into numbered slots in front of a row of food vendors.
“Food?” he asked.
“I don’t think I could eat.”
“How about a gelato?” He squeezed her hand. “Strawberry?”
She paused, pulling him to a stop. She turned and rose on her toes and kissed him. Brief and soft. “I really like you, Randall Fallon.”
He wrapped an arm around her back and lifted her to kiss her longer and deeper. Then he set her down and said, “I think you’re amazing, Kira Hanson.”
He used her American name on purpose. That’s who she was, no matter what she’d learned today. But if she wanted to reject that name…well, at some point, he’d offer her another one.
A wave of cold air hit Kira’s face as she stepped into the apartment. Relief washed through her. Grateful for the air-conditioning and privacy, she wanted to curl in a ball and cry or, better yet, sit in front of a fan and make noises as the blades whirled, the spinning vane distorting the sounds as the fan blew air in her face. It was what she’d done as a child when she was hot and out of sorts.
Weird that she’d remember that coping mechanism now. But then, given what she’d just learned, maybe not. She was going to need every coping mechanism she’d ever developed.
Deep breaths would no longer cut it.
Arms came around her, and they were better than any spinning fan, even if his body was warm against her flushed skin. She turned into his embrace and he held her, finally scooping her up and taking her into the living room and settling on the couch with her on his lap.
She snuggled against his chest. This was what she’d longed for from the moment they stepped into the hidden corridor. They sat there for several minutes before she pulled back. “There’s a lot I want to talk about, but we should probably call Freya.”
“Actually, there is someone I need to call before we can talk to Freya again.”
She cocked her head. His tone was different. Even his expression was guarded. Not the way he usually looked at her. There was an edge to him. Was she getting a glimpse of the SEAL?
“I—I can’t let you listen in on the call. I need to call my CO and make a report.”
Definitely the SEAL was talking.
What did he need to say to his commander that she couldn’t hear? Everything they’d learned was about her. Her father. Her other father.
All at once, it hit her. Fear ripped through her body. “Rand, you can’t tell them I’m not an American citizen. I could—I could be deported. But the only place they could send me would be Russia.”
She’d been frustrated when her father refused to tell her where she was born in the US, but she hadn’t been born in Pennsylvania at all.
Luka said I was born in East Germany. Would that make me a German citizen even though both my parents were Russian?
He cupped her cheeks. “It’s not that, honey, although that’s likely to come out no matter what we do. And if US customs and immigration comes after you, they’re going to have to work hard to prove you aren’t Kira Hanson. You have a passport.”
“Based on a fake birth certificate. It lies about my age, my father’s name, my place of birth. Even my mother’s name is a lie.”
“Someone gave your father the paperwork he needed to create your and your mom’s fake identities. He was probably working for the CIA. We’ll get Freya to track down any sort of deal he might have cut with them to get you and your mom away from Kulik.”
He held her gaze, hands still on her cheeks. “And Kira, if your citizenship continues to be questioned, we’ll appeal to the State Department. They want your testimony in the upcoming trials. I’ll marry you, giving them a nice, legal avenue to allow you to retain your citizenship.”
She flushed at his words. “Is that a backward proposal?” It was sweet, but she didn’t want a marriage built on charity or a feeling of obligation.
“No, sweetheart. When I propose, you’ll know it.”
“When?”
He smiled. “When.” His lips brushed the scar on her forehead. “You stole a chunk of my heart the day we met, and I had to follow you all the way to Malta to get it back, but instead, you just took the rest of it.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks for what had to be the tenth time that day, but this was different. Did he mean what she thought he meant?
Did she want him to mean it? How could she when she didn’t even know who she was anymore?
Literally.
He brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “Don’t say anything. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured. I just figure you need to know you aren’t alone right now.”
The vise on her heart loosened, and she sank into him. “Thank you.”
She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding on like he was a lifeline. The kiss was hot and deep. His hands cupped her butt, and she shifted until she straddled him on the couch. His heavy erection pressed into her as he held her tight against him.
She released his mouth and spoke, slightly breathless. “Make love to me, Rand. Now. I want to forget for a few minutes, and just think about you. Us.”
He kissed her neck, his mouth open and tongue hot on her skin, then he stopped. “We can’t.”
“We can skip the condom. I’m on birth control. Three-month injection. I was tested for everything after I was abducted, even though we were certain I wasn’t sexually assaulted. Everything came back negative.”
He smiled, and she wanted to melt. He was so incredibly beautiful, and especially so when he smiled at her like that. “I’m negative too. Last physical was in January. You’re the only person I’ve been with since last summer. But, and it’s killing me to say this, condoms aren’t the reason I said we can’t right now. It’s urgent that I call my CO.”
Lord, he probably had to report what he’d learned because he had to report everyone he associated with in Malta, and Kira herself was now compromised. She was the daughter of an oligarch who might or might not orchestrate hits for the Russian president.
She would never get security clearance to be a Valkyrie now, but worse, what would happen to Rand? She pulled back, still on his lap but no longer pressed close. “I understand. Being with me could get your clearance revoked.”
“That’s not it. And unless they think you are—or I am—an actual spy, they wouldn’t yank my clearance. At worst, they might downgrade me from Top Secret, and if that happened, so what? I’m about to be promoted. There is no up left for me to go on the teams, which means I’m out. As soon as my promotion goes through, Chris will move up to OIC—Officer in Charge—of our platoon, and our junior lieutenant will move into his position. I’ve got four years until I hit my twenty and retire, so I’ll still be in the Navy, and if I were to be downgraded, it just limits what I can do for NSWC, but there are plenty of other ways the Navy can use me. Don’t worry about me. This is something else entirely I need to talk to my commander about.”
She climbed from his lap. “Okay. I’ll stop making wild guesses and let you get to it.”
He grabbed her hand, stopping her from leaving. “Thinking of my team…I have an idea of who I can call so you can stay in the room.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lieutenant Chris Flyte was surprised to see the name flash on his cell phone screen. Rand wasn’t likely to be calling from Malta to ask about souvenirs for the guys. Something was up, and it fell outside Freya and FMV’s domain, or he’d be calling them.
“I have a feeling I’m not going to like this,” he said, skipping the hello. “Is Kira safe?”
“For now. Listen. Something happened today, and I can’t read her in without permission, but she’s part of it. I need you to get in touch with Commander Gleeson and Captain Huang. Everyone, really. But start with them. We need a meeting with a secure teleconference for Kira and me. Probably FMV too.”
“Why call me?”
“You, more than anyone, will understand why this is urgent. Well, Collins will too, but he’s not my AOIC.”
A shiver ran up Chris’s neck. Petty Officer Second Class Teague Collins had joined their SEAL team a few months ago, replacing a man they lost in December, but Chris had worked with him before. Collins had been on Chris’s Coronado-based team and had been injured in a training exercise that went terribly wrong a year and a half ago.
“Tell me.”
“I just met Grigory Laskin.”
“Holy fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Did he have any idea who you are? That you’re a SEAL?”
“I told him my name, but he has no reason to suspect anything. Listen, it’s a long story about where I was and why we were there. But this casts the shooting on Little Creek in a new light. Kira might have been the target then, but with Laskin involved, there’s got to be more to it.”
Chris’s mind reeled as if he’d taken a blow and was trying to shake it off and stay on his feet.
Laskin was ultimately responsible for the deaths of three SEALs, but there was so much more to the story. “I’ll call Commander Gleeson and Captain Huang. It’ll probably take an hour to get everyone on base. I’ll get one of them to contact you and give permission to read Kira in.”
“Good. Freya should be read in too. She has details on another oligarch associated with Laskin. There’s more with the CIA that she’s looking into, but as far as I know, Freya knows nothing about Laskin.”
“Got it. I’ll make my calls, and one of us will get back to you ASAP.”
Chris hit the End button and met Diana’s gaze. They’d been lounging in bed enjoying a leisurely Sunday morning now that she was mostly recovered from surgery.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
He kissed her. “I’ll tell you if I get permission. It has to do with Kira, but it probably doesn’t have anything to do with you or last December. Kira can tell you her part when she gets back if it comes to that.”
“Damn. Sounds serious.”
“Very.” He ran a hand over his face. The desire to tell her burned deep, but he had to honor his oath, just as Rand was doing in Malta.
He kissed her, gentle and soft, mindful that she was still recovering, then climbed from the bed. “I need to call Commander Gleeson, then head to the base. Don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“If everyone is called in, I can give Steph a hand with the kids. Lily’s birthday party is today.”
“You sure you’re up for that?”
“Yes. And I’ll be bored without you home today.”
“If you could help Steph, it would be amazing. Tell her I’m sorry to ruin Lily’s day, but Kramer is needed.”
“She knows the drill.”
Stephanie Kramer did know the drill, and Diana was getting used to it. But then, she had her own work for Friday Morning Valkyries that had her versed in national security and intelligence gathering. She got it.
Chris left her and went to his office to make the calls. It was going to be a long day, and probably even longer night.
Grigory Laskin.
Holy fuck.
He wished he could call Xavier, but there wasn’t time.
Teague Collins settled in the seat next to Chris Flyte—at once familiar, but also new. He’d been glad to end up on Lieutenant Flyte’s team again after more than a year of recovery and rebuilding strength. Different base, different team, but same Assistant Officer in Charge.
Today his AOIC had called him personally before the meeting. After saying he had no time to explain, Flyte instructed Teague to take Fallon’s place at the table. He braced himself, knowing Flyte wouldn’t have given those instructions lightly. If anyone should have a seat at the table in Rand’s absence, it should be the team’s new junior lieutenant, Jacob Burns, not a mere Petty Officer Second Class like him.
He and Flyte had very different experiences when it came to the training exercise that had stolen a year from Teague’s service in the SEALs. He’d watched Flyte make his HALO jump into the storm and followed with the others, splashing down in a frigid lake and swimming to the designated spot with his Fire Team.
Twenty minutes later, Teague was injured and the other three men on his team were dead. He went in and out of consciousness for what he was told was a few hours, then sank into total oblivion until he woke in a Navy hospital a few days later.
During that time, Flyte and the rest of the platoon had been in a fight for their lives against an unexpected enemy, armed only with guns that fired paint pellets.
Teague was lucky to be alive. Even luckier that his injury hadn’t prevented him from returning to active duty and reclaiming a spot on a SEAL team. He felt stronger than ever and was determined to prove he deserved this second chance to be a special operator.
He’d failed his Fire Team. He knew it wasn’t his fault, understood that the training had been jacked before he jumped from the plane. But there was knowing and there was believing.
Every day was an exercise in trying to be worthy of being the one who’d survived. Of figuring out how he could best represent the three men who’d died.
The room quickly filled with the rest of his new team, along with brass and the specialists who kept NSWC operational. It was a replay of last Tuesday, after the shooting, with the base commander near the head of the table and representatives from base security pushing the room to full capacity.
