Dangerous Secrets (26 page)

“Well, I don’t want to pick up
her
pieces,” Nick snarled. “Did enough of that in Bosnia. This is not an option, so you can just forget it.”

Charity stood, too. Nick had an unfair advantage with his height. It was bad enough while standing, with her on the sofa and him upright and quivering with indignation. It was positively lopsided with both of them standing, an angry Nick looming over her.

“I’m not too sure that is a decision for you to make, Nick,” she said softly. She was speaking to him, but looking at Di Stefano.

What they’d said about Vassily had sickened her. Was that where he had got all his money? Not from his books but from essentially killing kids and abetting terrorists?

Charity didn’t really think of herself as a brave woman. She didn’t go in for martial arts, she didn’t rock climb or go parachuting. She was a very staid librarian who thought a new Nora Roberts book was a real thrill.

By the same token, though, she had a strong sense of honor and of patriotism. It turned out that the man she admired so much, Vassily Worontzoff, was a dangerous man, a man to be stopped.

In some small portion of her heart, she understood well that it was Kolyma that had changed him. He wasn’t responsible for the horrors that had been inflicted on him, that had cost him his health, his love, and, in a real sense, his sanity. But he was responsible for what he became.

She recognized that she was faced with another one of those moments where you show what you are made of. And she was made of steel. Life had handed her the possibility of stopping something horrendous and she wasn’t going to walk away.

“Do you have the necessary equipment?” she asked Di Stefano softly.

“Yeah, I’ve got a body wire in the car and a button camera. All you’d have to do is just spend some time there. We’d need everyone’s voice on tape and clear visuals of everyone’s face, which we won’t get with long-range cameras. This would be invaluable, Ms., ah Mrs.—”

Di Stefano stopped, not knowing what to call her. Fair enough, she didn’t know what to call herself, either.

“Charity will do.”

You could actually hear Nick’s teeth grinding.

“This is
not
going to happen!” Nick’s voice rose to a shout. “Goddamn it, this is insane! Have you forgotten who we’re dealing with? These aren’t white-collar criminals; they’re some of the most deadly men on the planet.”

“And yet, by your own reckoning, Nick, one of them loves me. Vassily won’t hurt me. I know that,” she said.

“You can’t know anything of the sort, goddamn it!” His breath huffed out like that of an enraged bull. “Shit, am I the only one with any sense in this room? Di Stefano, you didn’t do service in Bosnia, but I did. I know what these people can do, especially to women.”

“But he loves her. And no one is going to suspect Charity of anything. She’s there because he invited her. She’s going to go in, get a few visuals, then pretend to have a headache. In and out, in half an hour. What can happen in half an hour? And we might just catch a big break.”

“It doesn’t take half an hour to die,” Nick grated. “It takes a second. She’s not doing this, and that’s final. I’m team leader and that’s my order.”

“Sorry.” Di Stefano bared his teeth. “You’re not team leader any more, Nick, I am. The boss thought your behavior was
too erratic, so he relieved you of your command. Effective half an hour ago. As a matter of fact, you’re not even on the team at all, anymore. Though I’ll let you stay in the van, as a courtesy, and seeing as how you have…an emotional investment in the outcome. So I want you to go out and get the kit to wire Charity up.” The two men stared at each other. “Now,” Di Stefano added softly. “That’s a direct order.”

Nick’s breathing was loud in the room. With a vicious
“Fuck!”
he turned and walked out the front door, slamming it violently behind him.

Di Stefano winced and sighed. He looked at the floor for a second, then looked up. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re mad at him. I’m mad at him. Our partner, Alexei, is mad at him. Our boss is mad at him, together with the whole head office. Everyone’s mad at Nick.”

“He lied to me,” Charity replied steadily. “From the first moment.”

“Yeah.” Di Stefano nodded sharply. “He did, that’s his job. He’s one of the best undercover cops I’ve ever seen and being able to lie is a big part of that. It’s for the job, though, he’s not a habitual liar in real life, though God knows, he doesn’t have too much of that. If anything, Iceman is too straight. That’s what we call him, Iceman. Because he’s always cool and in control.” He shook his head. “You blew that right out of the water. I’ve never seen him like this before.” He grimaced. “Though it pains me to say anything in his favor, what he did, when he married you, it was way off the charts. He threw his entire career down the drain for you. If they let him stay in the service after this, he’ll end up cleaning toilets, without the benefit of a brush. And he knew that when he did it. But it was worth it to him, to keep you safe. He told us in no uncertain terms that if he was killed, we
were to look after you, his widow. He did it to protect you.” He shook his head. “Hard as it is to imagine it of Iceman, he loves you. I know you’re feeling lied to and betrayed, but he did it to protect you in the only way he knew how.”

Charity’s throat shook. She couldn’t get any words out at all. She took a breath, two, three, but nothing came out.

“And hard as it is to say this, I think you might want to cut him some slack.”

Di Stefano had taken her righteous anger and twisted it around. She was furious, and she had every right to be. Nick had lied to her right from the start, and continued to do so.

And yet, and yet. He was doing what he thought right. And Charity knew, deep down, where there were no lies, only truths, that Nick’s lovemaking had been real. That there were real feelings there.

She had no idea what to do with that information, though.

Nick burst back into the room, carrying a black suitcase, grim faced and tense. A gust of cold air came in with him and she shivered. Not just at the cold air.

All Charity could do was look at him. So different from the Nick she’d married. He had a dangerous edge to him, sharp as a knife. The features of his face, familiar as her own, were somehow different. As if a layer had been stripped away, leaving only skin and bone and truth.

Truth. The Nick before her was the real one—hard and grim and focused. Not a soft businessman at all, but a man built for power and speed. A man who faced danger on a daily basis. Who’d undoubtedly killed and who looked perfectly capable of killing again.

He set the briefcase down on the coffee table, unsnapped
the locks, and lifted the lid. Inside were gadgets embedded in foam rubber.

He lifted two out, one a long wire with doodads at each end and the other a small, complicated electronic thingie. As with all things electronic, their outsides gave no indication to what their insides did.

“Okay.” Nick straightened and speared each of them with a hard glare. Then his attention focused intently on his partner. “This is the way it’s going to work. The only way it’s going to work, or I’m pulling the plug right now. This is not optional. First off, we’re going to need backup.”

“Done,” Di Stefano snapped. “I’m calling in our Boston SWAT team. They’ll be here by around four. I hope to God we don’t need to use them, that we can get her in and out smooth and easy, intercept Hammad after he drives away, but they’ll be there. In case.”

“Two.” Nick’s gaze was unwavering. “You and I are going to be right outside the house all the time Charity’s in there. I don’t care what it takes. If we have to take down guards, that’s what we’ll do. She’s not going in unless I’m two seconds away from breaching the front door to get to her.”

“Uh…” Di Stefano shifted uneasily. “I don’t know—”

“That’s nonnegotiable,” Nick snapped.

Di Stefano was silent for a long moment, working his way through Nick’s ultimatum. “Okay,” he sighed.

“And three,” Nick continued. “She stays in the house twenty minutes, tops. Whatever she gets, she gets, but twenty minutes after she walks in through the front door, she’s going to develop a major headache and she’s heading right back out.”

“But—”

“That’s nonnegotiable, too. Otherwise we’re not doing this. And it goes against every instinct I have, as it is.”

“Okay. Okay.” Di Stefano shot his arm out and checked the time. “We’d better start getting her ready.”

Nick stepped in front of Charity. “I’ll do it. You get out of here and wait for me at the van. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

Silence. Di Stefano breathed in and out, then finally spoke. “I can count on that? That you’ll get out of here? Because you look an awful lot like you’re about to go cowboy again on me, Iceman. More than you already have, and I can’t accept that. I’m going to need your word that you’re going to leave here and let her get to Worontzoff’s house on her own.”

“A driver will be coming for me,” Charity offered. She didn’t quite understand the tension humming between the two of them, but it was palpable.

Nick’s jaw muscles jumped. “Precisely,” he said to her, while staring at Di Stefano. “You’re going to be alone in a car with one of Worontzoff’s goons for—what? Fifteen, twenty minutes? A lot of things can happen in that time. Lots of bad things.”

Charity’s heart jumped. “I—I don’t think Vassily would hurt me.”

Nick turned to her, jaw muscles jumping. “Vassily wouldn’t hurt Katya Artsemova, no. He loved her. But Katya Artsemova has been dead for over fifteen years. He thinks he loves you because you look so much like her, but you’re
not
her. When the craziness in his head dies down and he realizes that, who knows what the fuck he’ll do?”

“You come back to the van, Iceman,” Di Stefano said, his voice cold and steady. “You will not compromise this part of the mission before it’s begun, I hope that’s clear.”

“Or what?” Nick asked, swiveling back to him.

“Or I’ll fucking cuff you, that’s what.”

Nick bared his teeth. “You can fucking try. And you watch your fucking language. There’s a lady here.”

“Shit.” Di Stefano’s teeth clicked together in exasperation. “I don’t want to get into a pissing contest with you. I want your word that you’ll wire her up and get out.”

Nick touched her hand. “Charity? This is up to you. Do you still want to do this? Because I’m dead set against it. We’re listening in on Worontzoff’s study and we’ll keep the beam on until the last possible minute. We’ve tapped his phones. We’re going to photograph everyone coming in and going out. Maybe we can put a snake mike in. We don’t need you to do this.”

Di Stefano opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly not wanting to influence her. Because, of course, they did need her.

Vassily’s mansion was huge. Most of the times she’d been to see him, he was in his living room, which had the largest hearth in the house, not his study. It was entirely possible that he would be meeting with his people there instead of the study. It was entirely possible they would meet after five, which is when the sun went down. They needed eyes and ears and it looked like she was it.

Charity didn’t in any way underestimate the danger, though she was also certain that Vassily wouldn’t hurt her. Nonetheless, she was walking into a room full of criminals, with no training to deal with violence should it erupt. On the other hand, she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Nick would be as close to her as he could get.

She didn’t have to do this, and yet—she did. Charity trusted her moral compass and her needle was pointing at true north right now. She was in a position to help her country and
she was taking it. How could she refuse? The deep calm of knowing she was doing the right thing came over her.

Even her nausea had abated and she felt well, for the first time in days. Of course, she’d been grieving over Nick’s death, and seeing him in front of her, looking strong and vital and angry, completely wiped her grief away.

The front door closed quietly and Nick rounded on her. His hand shot out, curling around her neck. He bent until his forehead touched hers, eyes a fiery, deep blue. “I don’t want you to do this,” he whispered.

Charity stepped back, but he just followed her. A couple more steps and her back was against the wall, Nick’s long, lean body pressing in against her.

“I know,” she answered. “But I have to.” She took a deep breath and asked the question that was haunting her. “After—afterward.” She swallowed. There was no moisture left in her mouth, her lungs felt empty. It was hard to speak. “Afterward, will I see you again?”

It was painful to humiliate herself like this, but her need to know overrode her embarrassment. If he said no, he was leaving as soon as his job here was over, she’d crumple to the ground.

Her knees stiffed, her spine stacked back up. No, no she wouldn’t. Prewitts didn’t fall to the ground. They took what life dealt them, and did the best they could.

It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “You are staying twenty minutes, not a second more. The instant you step outside of Worontzoff’s house, I will be at your side and I’m not leaving you, ever again.”

A low growling noise came from Nick’s throat, the noise a dying, wounded animal would make. He bent down to her,
eyes blazing, mouth open. Her own mouth opened, instinctively, helplessly, for his kiss. But he stopped a breath away from her lips, eyes burning into hers. He was panting, his breath hot on her cheek. A trickle of sweat fell down his temple to plop on her neck.

It was impossible to think of anyone calling him Iceman. He looked like he was ready to explode into a fireball.

“I came back from the fucking dead for you, Charity, so no, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to live with you here or in another house; I don’t care. I’ll do something—maybe I’ll run for sheriff. I don’t care about that, either, as long as I’m with you and we can raise our child together. Is that clear?”

She could almost feel the waves of his strong male will beating against her. There was no way she could resist him even if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Living with him for the rest of her life, raising their child together, sounded like heaven.