Dangerous Allies. Renee Ryan
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many roles for use in her arsenal. By taking on other personas she kept the real Katia separate from the spy.
Rounding the corner, she caught sight of a man lounging in a chair in her east living room. Her chest rose and fell in a sudden spasm, the only outward sign of her inner distress. Otherwise, she stared at the British operative with nothing more than mild curiosity on her face.
He’d tugged his tie loose and had left the ends hanging on each side of his neck. He’d also opened the top three buttons of his shirt, revealing a smooth expanse of corded throat muscles.
Even in his relaxed position, there was a hard edge to him that somehow complemented her feminine decor. This man was one hundred percent rugged male, the quintessential alpha. Although he sat in a chair covered with pink and yellow fabric, he radiated masculinity.
Which did nothing to improve her mood.
How many surprises must she endure in one evening?
“You have exactly sixty seconds to tell me what you’re doing in my home, Herr Reiter.” The calm, detached voice was one of her most useful tools.
For an instant she thought she saw a deep male appreciation in his eyes, but he blinked and the moment was gone.
She lifted her chin a fraction higher. “Well?”
He didn’t respond. Nor did he rise to greet her, as would have been the polite thing to do. Perhaps by remaining seated he was reminding her whom he considered in charge of the mission.
Unfortunately for him, he had the particulars wrong.
“You now have twenty seconds to start talking before I throw you out of my home.”
Leaning farther back in the chair, he hooked an ankle across his knee then glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Actually, we’re now down to fifteen.”
Her earlier desire to kick something turned into an overwhelming urge to kick someone. By sheer force of will she reminded herself that this stranger was to be her partner for the next few days. Their success would bring the British closer to defeating Hitler. A heady prospect.
Katia might be able to carry out her end of the mission alone, but she needed Friedrich Reiter to deliver the plans to MI6. That did not mean, however, she had to make this conversation easy for him. “Tell me, Herr Reiter, how did you know where to find me?”
“It’s my business to know certain, shall we say…” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “Things about you.”
There was something in the way he met her gaze that brought matters to a very basic level between them. Another time she might have enjoyed the challenge of discovering the real man beneath the layer of polish and subterfuge. For now, she could only wonder what motivated him to risk his life for Great Britain. Personal gain, as most of the spies she’d met before him? Or was he answering a higher call?
Either way, the clock was ticking. She couldn’t afford the luxury of delving into his inner psyche right now.
“What sort of…things?” she asked from behind a well-positioned smile.
He slowly unfolded his large frame and rose. As he strode toward her, she shrank back a step, as much startled by her reaction to him as by the intensity in his gaze. He stopped a mere foot away from her, his heat chasing away the sudden cold that had slipped under her coat.
For one small moment, time seemed to stop and wait for him to speak.
“For instance. Your mother never joins you backstage after a performance.” His gaze stayed locked with hers.
“Never.”
Her fingers flexed by her side. Already, the man knew too much. “This evening was a rare but happy occasion.”
“Special enough for her to choose a high-ranking Kriegsmarine officer as her escort?”
Katia stiffened. She should have known he would go straight for the heart of the matter. “Hermann Schmidt is a friend of my mother’s. He is nothing to me.” She nearly spat the last of her words. But not quite.
Eyes still locked with hers, Reiter moved yet another step closer then brushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen over her eye.
Katia held perfectly still.
“Did you know that your left eyebrow twitches when you’re upset?” He tucked the hair behind her ear.
It took everything she had not to jerk beneath the impact of his soft touch. He was using familiar tricks against her, but she knew this role well. She’d worn it like a protective shield when she’d accepted the company of some of the vilest men in Germany in order to gather valuable information for the British.
The fact that Friedrich Reiter’s blatant attempt to throw her off balance was working shifted the power in his favor. “Hermann Schmidt will not be a threat to our mission. I give you my word.”
She was not surprised when he closed his hand around her arm. She was surprised, however, that his grip was gentle. In contrast, a rough warning filled his gaze before he released her.
He’d made his point.
“I trust no one’s word, Katarina.” No longer playing the role of seducer, his cold-eyed regard slid over her. “And I take nothing on faith. I believe only in my well honed ability to see through a lie.”
With the steel in his voice and the military glare in his eyes, she almost buckled. Almost.
This man was formidable.
In spite of the pounding of her heart and the bead of sweat that slid between her shoulder blades, she had to stay focused. It helped to remember that without her, there was no mission.
“Well tonight, Herr Reiter, you are misreading the signs.”
The air grew tight and heavy between them. His gaze turned harsher, deadlier, the layers of polish peeling away to reveal a cold, merciless man.
But was the transformation real or just another act? Either way, she recognized the strategy of a back-alley brawler when she saw it. If this spy expected to intimidate her with his act, he was in for a disappointment.
Jerking her chin, she swept out of his reach and began roaming through the room. Step by step, she discarded her gloves, her coat and finally her hat.
On her second pass, she strolled within inches of him, proving to them both she was back in control of her nerves.
Obviously unaware of her internal struggle, he dropped into the wingback chair closest to him and flicked on a nearby lamp. Relaxing, he watched her in a very masculine way that sent her pulse skipping fast and hard through her veins. He played this game well.
“You seem to be making yourself comfortable,” she said.
He gave her a crooked grin. The gesture transformed his features, making him look almost upright. Trustworthy. Decent?
Games inside games. Secrets inside secrets. How she hated the intrigue of espionage.
A jolt of weariness struck her then, making her feel hollow with an unfortunate mixture of exhaustion and doubt. She was not overly fond of the sensation.
“You might as well sit,” he said, indicating the chair facing him. “This could take a while.”
Knowing he was right, that the sooner they discussed their mission the better, she cleared her expression and sank into the offered seat.
Before she could settle in, his demeanor turned all business. “Tell me how you know Schmidt?”
Katia gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white from the tension. She was growing more than a little irritated by the spy’s lack of faith in her. She was the one with far too much to lose, while he would be free of this tyrannical country in a matter of days. “Hermann Schmidt is a friend of my mother’s. End of story.”
“How close