Not-So-Secret Baby. Jo Leigh
Читать онлайн книгу.
why did you help me? Huh? What was in it for you?”
He gave her a smile he’d perfected under Todd’s tutelage, then leaned in so his lips nearly touched the perfect shell of her ear. “I got you in the sack, didn’t I?”
When he leaned back, the fire had left her eyes to be replaced by nothing so much as utter defeat. He hoped… God, he hoped, the fire wasn’t gone forever.
EDWARD POTEREIKO SWORE and stamped his feet to keep his circulation flowing. He glanced at the stainless-steel watch he’d gotten as a retirement gift after twenty-five years in the GRU, and saw that it was two-fifteen.
Late. His contact was late. The breakup of the Soviet Union had, in the former colonel’s opinion, also broken much of the vigor and discipline of the Ukrainian army. Now they were just so many ragtag costumed clowns playing at being soldiers. In his day, Edward would have had a number of them shot. The remainder would damn well have been on time.
He peered across the frozen moonlit fields toward the lights of Kharkiv, trying to ignore the condensation of breath on his glasses. He willed himself to see a figure struggling across the tundra in the rising fog. Still nothing moved.
Cursing again, he considered sitting in his four-door Volga sedan with the engine running and the heater blasting, but decided the risk was not worth the comfort. He turned his back to the lights and stuffed a Bogatyri cigarette between his lips, his American lighter shrouded by his greatcoat.
He’d barely puffed the hot ash to incandescent redness when he heard the crunch of boots approaching. He cautiously moved to place the sedan between himself and the sound. A dark silhouette stumbled into view, visible breath rasping in the misty silence, the telltale peak of the Russian army cap obvious against the distant twinkling lights.
As the figure moved closer, Potereiko could see the reason for the shadow’s stumbling gait; the man was carrying a large metal suitcase that hit his leg with every step. “Colonel?” he whispered. “Colonel?”
Potereiko stepped from behind the sedan and puffed on his cigarette before speaking, blowing smoke in a thick cloud that drifted sinuously over his shoulder. “You’re late, Vanko.”
Vanko dropped the suitcase at the rear of the Volga sedan with a sharp crunch that made the other man start involuntarily, although he knew it would take more than that for the case to begin its deadly work. Vanko pulled his gloves off and blew on his bare hands to warm them. “The security guard at the factory demanded extra money, just as I was leaving. He thinks I’m stealing computers.” He laughed, then sniffed at the smoke from Potereiko’s cigarette. “Hey, let me have one of those.”
“You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago,” Potereiko said. “I’ve got to be back at the border before the shift changes at three.” He fished out one of the unfiltered Bogatyris and handed it to Vanko, then lit it for him.
“The guard—”
“Forget the guard.” Potereiko waved his arm dismissively and opened the trunk of the Volga. As the lid opened, a light came on inside. “Let’s see it.”
“Ah, Colonel.”
“I want to make sure it’s what you say, Vanko.”
“Would I try to cheat you?”
“You’re already trying to get a few extra rubles for the greedy guard. Open the case.” Potereiko stood back, hands in his pockets, cigarette dangling from between his lips.
Vanko flipped a pair of latches, not unlike a briefcase, and carefully raised the lid, exposing a neatly machined panel containing an array of readouts and switches, barely visible in the dim trunk light. “You can set a code to open it. Here.” Vanko indicated a spot near one of the latches on the inside of the case.
Edward moved closer and peered in. “Ah, yes. I remember when we were designing these.” He reached out a hand and caressed the panel, almost fondly. “We were going to destroy the Americans.” He closed the case, then the trunk.
“Those were the days, eh, comrade?” Vanko said.
Potereiko puffed on his cigarette, regarded the hot ember, then dropped the butt and ground it out with the sole of his shoe. “There’s much more opportunity now,” he said.
“Speaking of opportunity…” Vanko puffed his own cigarette, hands in his coat pockets, gloves tucked beneath an armpit.
“Of course. The money.”
“I had to give the guard an extra fifty rubles.”
“Let’s see,” Potereiko said as he reached inside his coat. He pulled out a pistol.
Vanko’s eyes widened and he backed up a step, pulling his arms from his pockets, gloves falling to the ground. “What is this?”
“This is a Smith & Wesson .38-caliber Police Special,” Potereiko said calmly. “Made in America. New Jersey, I believe. Nice, is it not?”
“Edward… Colonel… Please.”
“You are a symbol of all that’s gone wrong with the Soviet Union, Vanko. And a petty thinker, to boot.” In one smooth motion former Colonel Edward Potereiko raised the weapon and fired, striking Vanko in the forehead. As the roar of the gun died, his face, only slightly marred by the entry wound, took on a startled look. The cigarette fell from his lips, lodging on his heavy coat before he fell backward.
Potereiko put the gun back inside his coat and checked his watch. He still had fifteen minutes to get back to the border, and it was only six or seven miles. He was, in fact, far more concerned with the nearly six thousand miles he’d have to drive in the next week. He stepped over Vanko’s body.
“Das vadanya, comrade.”
Chapter Four
Jenny turned away, unable to look at Nick. God, had she made it all up? Had this man ever truly been kind to her?
She ran her hand over the cold relief of a standing screen, her fingers tracing the edges of a reclining jaguar as she ran through a dozen quick memories, Nick gentle in all of them. He’d been tough in front of Todd and Sweet, of course, but when they’d been alone…
She remembered the first time he’d kissed her. They’d been in her bathroom, of all places, standing by the Jacuzzi. He’d found a narrow window where Todd’s hidden cameras couldn’t see, and he’d led her there, positioned her just so. They’d had to whisper, although the sound of the bubbling water had masked their voices. And in that tiny space of freedom, that narrow gap between the nightmare of her life and the promise of something too good to be anything but a dream, he’d caressed her hair with trembling fingers, searched her gaze for secrets, then leaned down and touched her lips ever so softly with his own.
He’d lingered there, just brushing lips to lips, breathing his breath into her, filling her with desire. He’d been patient, maddeningly so, and finally she’d been the one to deepen the kiss, to open her lips and take a forbidden taste of this man who was her protector and her prison guard.
He’d moaned, so loudly she’d been afraid, but then the fear didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but his arms around her, the hard warmth of his chest, his tongue doing wicked, wonderful things that made her forget reality.
It had only lasted a few minutes. A few precious, dangerous minutes. But in that time, she’d felt a connection that had given her the strength to do the unthinkable. She’d decided, at that moment, when she couldn’t distinguish between his breath and hers, that she would escape. And that someday, when they were both free of the monster in the other room, they would meet again.
The man behind her bore no resemblance to the man in her mind’s eye. They looked the same, but they were complete opposites when it came to the heart.
What had happened to him? Was being around Todd enough to kill that humanity? She closed her eyes. Of course it was. If she’d stayed,