In Sheep's Clothing (27 page)

Vicktor swallowed, every muscle aching to spring. He forced himself to open the closet door.

“Larissa, tie him up,” ordered the Wolf. Larissa avoided Vicktor’s eyes as she dug through her backpack and unearthed packing tape. She wrapped his wrists tight behind his back, then wound it around his mouth. Vicktor couldn’t bear to look at Gracie.

“Now, shoot him.”

Larissa paled. “
Nyet.
I’m not killing a cop.”

“Pick up his gun and shoot him now, Larissa. Or he’ll find us, and destroy our plans.”

Larissa glanced at Vicktor, then back to Gracie. Then she bent and picked up the gun.

Vicktor braced himself, and for a last painful moment, met Gracie’s beautiful eyes. They went wide, and then she screamed.

“No!” She fought Yuri’s hold as Larissa leveled the gun at Vicktor and pulled the trigger.

N
o, oh please, Lord, no!
Gracie’s knees buckled as Larissa lowered the gun and slammed the closet door.

Vicktor.
She moaned, and began to shake. “Vicktor!”

“Calm down,” Yuri snapped. “Or you’re next.”

Gracie felt warm blood trickle down her chest. The prick of the knife burned at the base of her throat. She couldn’t look at Yuri, but his foul breath washed over her face, turning her stomach.

“Go ahead. I don’t care.”

“Get up.” He grabbed her by the hair, wrenched her to her feet.

She stared at the closet door, her heart screaming for the man who’d given his life for hers.

“Larissa, give me the gun.”

Yuri held out his hand, but instead of taking the gun, he yanked Larissa toward him. Before Gracie could jump, Yuri had stabbed her.

Larissa fell, eyes open, onto the floor. She clutched her
stomach, blood pouring from between her fingers. “Boris…I trusted you.”

“Da, Tovarish.”
He laughed, and it sounded more animal than human.

Gracie stood frozen, unable to breathe.

Yuri grabbed her by the back of her neck. “I’m going to put my knife away, but let’s hold hands, since we’re such good friends.” His fingers dug into her and she bit back a cry. A moment later, he released her and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go, dear. We have a plane to catch.”

Gracie tried to yank her hand away, but he jerked hard, nearly tearing the limb from its socket. She bit her lip, refusing to acknowledge the pain, amazed that she could feel anything.

Shock had her lungs, her heart filled her throat.

Yuri picked up Vicktor’s gun and pocketed it. Then, he lifted the envelope. “Open it.”

She glared at him, grabbed the package and pulled out Dr. Willie’s notes. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah. Perfect.” He snatched the pages away from her. “Thanks.”

She looked away.

“Now, if you’ll come quickly, and quietly, I’ll call zero-one when we get to our destination. Maybe they’ll arrive in time to save your friend Larissa’s life.”

Larissa? What about Vicktor? If there remained a remote chance he had only been wounded, and could be rescued…

Yuri pulled her out of the bathroom, walking as if there was nothing unusual about Gracie holding hands with the head pastor of the Russian Church, who had exited the women’s bathroom. Gracie scanned the lobby. It teemed with activity. Three long lines snaked from departure counters. A sea of people and not one of them familiar. Her chest constricted, her feet felt leaden.
Please, God, get me out of this safely. Again.

Yuri pushed through a line of people and stalked toward the departure gate. A lone woman in a navy blazer with tired eyes
stood sentry. She stopped him and Yuri pulled out a black passport. Flipping it in front of her face, he snorted at her. She paled and shooed them through.

Gracie’s brain could hardly keep up with her feet. Yuri had been after the medical notes the entire time? From his heated discourse with Vicktor, she knew there was more to the tale than just Dr. Willie’s medical notes. He’d betrayed her, his Church, her friends. He’d probably killed Dr. Willie and Evelyn, maybe even Leonid and Andrei. She glanced at him, noticing the sweat dripping off his sideburns, the folds of skin pushing into his dress shirt at the base of his neck. He’d tricked them all. Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, he’d moved among his flock, devouring. Disgust twisted her stomach.

He pulled her through the departure lobby, then out the glass doors onto the tarmac. The rain had slackened to a drizzle. It pelted the back of her neck and slicked her hair to her face. She stumbled blindly, wincing under his grip.

Thunder droned in the distance. In bewilderment Gracie searched for the source and her knees weakened at the sight of a small airplane, gunning its jets in preflight.

“I’m not getting on a plane with you!” Gracie tore at his fingers, fighting his grip. She kicked at him and landed a glancing blow on his shin. He jerked her hard, snapping her head back.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled, “but I will.”

His words jolted her and she stumbled. He yanked her along with him, jogging toward the plane.

The sound of the plane engine took possession of her senses. “No!” she screamed again, digging her heels into the tarmac. “Don’t think for a second I don’t know you plan to kill me! You’ve killed everyone I care about.” Her voice shook. “You’ll probably dump me out over the ocean!”

“Not until I’m out of Russian airspace.”

“No.” If he was going to kill her, he had to do it here, now. Then Vicktor’s little army could shoot him out of the sky.

He cuffed her and she tasted blood. Clamping a hand around the back of her neck, he squeezed until she doubled over in pain.

“I’m running out of patience,” he hissed.

She staggered toward the plane. He pushed her up the steps and she fell onto the thinly carpeted floor. Yuri stepped up behind her and grabbed her by the collar.

“Get up.”

Gracie clenched her teeth and got to her knees. Yuri stabbed her hard in the back with his fingers and she swayed down the aisle.

“Over there,” he said, pointing to a row of seats. “Sit down and buckle up.”

Her heart lodged in her throat, Gracie fell into the seat. Yuri hollered to the front and returned to close the side door. The plane started to move. Gracie bit her lip and clutched the armrests as the ground seemed to travel by, gaining speed.
Oh, God, now what?

Vicktor didn’t know where he was hit, but his entire body burned. Mostly his head, but he had to think that was from falling. He had a bump, but there was no sting of a gash.

But his shoulder screamed, and that, along with the stink of cleanser and bleach told him that this wasn’t heaven.

He was still alive.

And, hopefully, so was Gracie. Vicktor didn’t know how long he’d sat there, counting his heartbeats. He twisted his hands and the tape cut into his skin. Still, it gave slowly and he wiggled his hands, now slick with blood, free. Releasing his feet, he then worked off the tape over his mouth.

The first kick at the door made him double over in pain. Okay, so maybe he
was
shot. He touched his arm and winced, feeling moisture between his fingers. Probably adrenaline had muted the pain.

But no kind of adrenaline would dull the pain of losing Gracie. He kicked the door again, adding a growl to his efforts. The door shuddered and held.

Figures that Russia would build a fortress to protect their cleaning supplies while they let killers waltz in and out over a paper-thin border.

Probably, by now, the Wolf was halfway to some anonymous island.

Vicktor couldn’t believe he’d done it again. Failed someone he cared about more that life.

Closing his eyes, he could hear only the drip of the faucet and the sound of his own harsh breathing.

Gracie was a dead woman. The Wolf was a cold-blooded killer, and Vicktor had let the animal walk away with the woman he loved.
Loved?
Vicktor leaned his head against the cement wall and gulped searing breaths. Yes, loved. Everything inside him ached to be around her, to hear her laugh, to see the sun in her eyes. She was hope and faith and life—so much life that the world dimmed in comparison. And it wasn’t until forgiveness unlocked his shackles that he realized this was the woman with whom he wanted to marry, have children and grow old.

She believed in him.

And the Wolf had her.

If ever he needed help from above, it was now. Fighting the cloying smell of cleanser, he tried to form coherent thought. He should have put together that Yuri and the Wolf were one and the same. Of course. If he’d been thinking with his cop brain instead of his heart, he would have connected the dots, seen the trail from Andrei, to the Church, to the KGB, to the KGB-connected crimes and finally to the Wolf.
Oh, God, what have I done?
Raising his eyes, he searched for a speck of light. “God, I have nowhere else to turn. Please, save Gracie.”

Gray light streamed into the closet as the door eased open. Larissa’s pinched face wedged into the crack. “Help me,” she begged. “I’m sorry.” Tears trailed down her cheeks.

Vicktor got to his feet and slammed the door open with the palm of his hand. He stared at the pitiful girl, who had collapsed onto the floor. He pulled off his jacket and pressed it against her wound. She moaned.

“I’ll get help.”

He scrambled out to the lobby and nearly crashed into Yanna. She grabbed his forearms, her dark eyes fixing on his.

“Slow down, Stripes.” Her eyes widened. “You’re bleeding.”

“What are you doing here?”

Yanna indicated a group of COBRAs hauling a snarling, handcuffed man to his feet. Blood trickled from a freshly opened wound on his head. “Just trust your friends for once, will you?”

Yuri stood in the aisle, one hand on each row of seats, eyes narrowed as he watched the pavement roll by. Gracie licked parched lips and hung her head, wondering what it would be like to die. If only she could have saved Dr. Willie’s notes.

She heard Yuri’s grunt of pain before she saw him stagger forward, then crash to the floor with a grunt.

What?

Roman! Gracie unhooked her belt and scrambled to her feet. Roman straddled Yuri’s waist, his hand around Yuri’s throat.

“You okay, Gracie?” Roman asked, not looking at her. Yuri cuffed him. Roman’s grip turned white on Yuri’s neck.

Gracie covered her mouth as Yuri’s contorted face colored a dark red, his lips purple.

“Roman, look out!”

Yuri had flushed out Vicktor’s little black gun from somewhere beneath him. He shoved it into Roman’s temple.

Gracie screamed. “No! Yuri!”

Roman released his grip and backed off. Gracie’s eyes were glued to Yuri as Roman pulled her behind him. “Please, Yuri, don’t shoot,” she begged as Roman’s body became her shield.

Yuri inched back and climbed to his feet. He trained the weapon on Roman as Yuri felt for the cockpit handle, opened the door and slipped inside.

Roman spun toward her, and the grim look on his face made her flinch. “Open that door and jump out right now.”

Gracie reeled, blinking at him. “The plane’s moving.”

Roman’s blue eyes turned to steel. “I know.”

The cockpit door opened. A woman in army fatigues scuttled out and slammed the door. Her eyes were wide, her face slightly flushed. A shock of curly red hair fell from the bun at the nape of her neck. “He doesn’t want me to drive,” she said in English.

Gracie fought Roman, gripping the seat. “You’re an American?”

The woman nodded. “Let’s get off this plane,
now.
”

Roman pushed Gracie toward the door. Her feet dug into the carpet. “You’re trying to kill me!”

“The clock is running, people. Move!” the woman barked.

Gracie didn’t want to decipher the meaning of those words. Roman reached past her and unlocked the door. It swung open, nearly sucking Gracie out. Icy rain stung her face.

“No!” she shrieked, bracing herself in the doorway. The plane was moving so fast.

“I’m sorry!” Roman yelled above the din. His hand clutched her upper arm. “You have to jump!”

“Thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…”

Gracie screamed and flung herself into open space.

V
icktor jumped aboard the luggage car and gunned it. Beside him, Yanna clung to the seat. The rain streaked in cold torrents down his back. He squinted and drove like a madman toward the taxiing AN-2. Heaven help the Wolf if he harmed one hair on Gracie’s head.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw someone jump from the plane. Two more bodies followed. Vicktor gripped the steering wheel harder.

As the plane accelerated down the runway, Vicktor made out Roman, rolling to his feet and limping over to one of the others. Shock ripped through him when he recognized Mae, her hair unfurled and glistening amber in the drizzle. That meant the figure sprawled flat and unmoving was Gracie.
Please, no.
He slammed the pedal to the floorboards.

The plane screamed as its front wheels lifted.

Vicktor’s eyes were glued to Gracie. She wasn’t moving. He felt his heart leap out ahead of him as he slammed on the brakes and jumped from the vehicle. “Gracie!”

She raised her head just before he skidded to his knees at her side.

“Vicktor?”

He took her in his arms. It was quite possible he was going to turn into a sniveling, oh-no-don’t-look mess right here, with Mae and Roman and Yanna watching.

“Vicktor! I thought Larissa had…” She pulled away from him, stared at his wounds. “You’re shot.”

She’d just jumped from an airplane and she was worried about
him?
His voice cracked, letting out his emotions. “I’m fine. Larissa just clipped my arm.”

She looked like she might cry. “Is Larissa dead?”

He ran his hand down her check. “I don’t know. She freed me and all I could think of was getting to you. I think Yanna called for help.”

“Oh.” Her expression began to crumble and she balled his jacket in her fists. “Oh.”

“Gracie.” He pulled her into his arms and held tight, trying not to cry himself. Except, his were tears of relief. “You scared me,” he choked out.

“I scared myself,” she said into his wet shirt. But she didn’t let go.

He held her away from him again and scanned her for injuries. Her pants had ripped open at the knees and an angry abrasion on her leg was quickly turning purple. He rubbed his hands over her arms, down to her wrists, and cringed at the scrapes on her palms. “Nothing broken?”

“Not yet.” She cupped his cheek and brought his gaze to hers.

In her eyes welled an emotion he could only hope was love.
Please, let it be love.

Because he knew he loved her.

But he couldn’t say that. Not here, not on the tarmac, with the rain pummeling them. He buried his face in her soggy hair, let relief shudder through him. “I thought the worst.” Not just thought it, but believed it, mourned it, had felt his heart crushed beneath it.

She drew away, searching his face. “But you prayed, didn’t you?”

He nodded. Was it possible she could see right to his very soul?

Yes, it was. And, what was more amazing…it didn’t terrify him.

She smiled. “Kiss me, Vicktor.”

Kiss her? Okay. That he could do, even right here in front of Yanna, and Roman, and even Mae. He took Gracie in his arms and showed her how much he loved her. Gently, not letting his hunger overwhelm her, his restraint speaking louder than anything else might. But enough.

And she surrendered. It felt so sweet he hoped it would never end. She kissed him back, knotting her hands in his shirt, holding on tight until he had to pull away and whisper the words that pulsed in his heart. “I love you, Gracie.”

He hoped she could see it in his eyes. He willed her to see it, to know that she had helped set him free and taught him everything, including how to trust.

She traced his mouth with her finger. “I can hardly believe it, but I love you, too.” Then she blushed, washing away the gray pallor of her rain-drenched skin, leaving her breathtakingly gorgeous with her golden mop plastered to her head, her eyes bright and alive.

She loved him, too.
He curled her to his chest, closed his eyes and grinned like a silly man.

“What took you so long, Stripes?” Roman clamped him on the shoulder, his eyes mischievous.

Vicktor shrugged. Beyond him, he saw the Wolf’s AN-2 arch in the sky, then nose-dive.

Vicktor yanked Gracie into his embrace and ducked his head just as the plane slammed into the ground. The explosion rolled over the tarmac.

Roman crouched beside them, shielding himself with his arm.

“What was that?” Gracie exclaimed, turning, searching for the source.

“Oh, just some fallout from damage I did to the steering,” Mae said. “Sadly, it was only supposed to incapacitate him, buy the COBRAs some time. But when the Wolf’s pilot caught us…well, Roman and I had to stick around and see if we could save your skins.”

“The Wolf?” Gracie stared at the flames. “Was he on the plane, too?

Vicktor nodded, swallowed. “Yeah.” As Vicktor drew her in tight, Gracie buried her hand in his shirt and pulled him even closer.

And that’s when he realized he’d not only been forgiven, a thousand times over, but been blessed more than he’d ever deserve.

Grace drew back and blinked at Mae. “Who are you?”

A smile inched up Vicktor’s face. “Gracie Benson, I’d like you to meet Captain Mae Lund, United States Air National Guard.”

Gracie struggled to her feet, Vicktor assisting. “Mae?”

Vicktor nestled Gracie against his side as she shook Mae’s hand. “I’ve heard about you.”

Mae laughed. “Glad to meet you, too, Gracie. You’re an extraordinary woman to win Vicktor’s heart.”

Vicktor ducked his head, and heard Gracie laugh at his blush. “He’s got an extraordinary heart.”

The whine of emergency vehicles soured the air. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up before your plane takes off,” he said quietly.

Gracie frowned, her eyes glistening. “No, I can’t leave yet.”

The desperation in her voice tugged at his heart.

Vicktor pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Trust me.”

Gracie sat in the airport cafe, fingering her coffee cup and shooting daggers at the vile clock that ticked down her last moments with Vicktor. Her fingers were threaded through his under the table. His thumb stroked her hand in long sweeps, sending waves of yearning through her.
Why, God? Why did You drop someone wonderful into my life, only to yank me away?

Then again, maybe it was enough that God
had
dropped Vicktor into her life…and saved them both. And now that Vicktor had his shoulder bandaged—pending stitches—she might be able to breathe freely.

Her flight hadn’t been called to board yet, but the announcement was imminent. She tried to focus on the conversation around her, thankful it was all in English.

“So how did you know Yuri was after Gracie?” Yanna asked, leaning toward Vicktor. She kept smirking at Gracie, obviously gleeful that Roman’s and her matchmaking had been a success. Gracie fought embarrassment. It had been ages since she’d been the willing recipient of a man’s affection. It took some getting used to.

“I found a photo of Yuri, Dr. Young and a Korean named Pastor Yee at the Youngs’ flat. When I found out Leonid had killed the Youngs, and they’d been framed, I called Arkady and asked him to ask Pastor Yee—formerly from North Korea—if his visa had ever been stolen,” Vicktor explained.

“Pastor Yee said he lost his passport about a year ago,” Roman continued. “He didn’t know if it was stolen, but we figure the Wolf/Yuri used it to create the fake documents framing the Youngs. Arkady called me when he couldn’t reach Vicktor. He told me you were at the airport, and Yanna and I figured that Yuri might try to ambush you there. We also checked the outgoing flights and discovered that his pilot, a comrade from the KGB era, had filed a flight plan. We couldn’t ignore the coincidence.”

“It’s a good thing you have well-placed friends, Stripes,” Yanna said.

“And she’s not only talking about Comrade Major Malenkov.” Roman’s eyes gleamed. “He authorized the call to Mae, who was thankfully already here, filing her preflight plan.” He thumped Vicktor on his non-bandaged shoulder. “You need to check your cell-phone batteries, pal.”

Vicktor winced and dug into his pocket. The phone hadn’t a spark of life. “Even if you’d called, I doubt I would have
thought of Yuri hiding in the bathroom. And it was only when I saw him, and strung together his KGB history and the M.O. of the crimes, that I realized his true identity. I only wish I’d connected the dots sooner.”

“Pastor Yuri was your serial killer?” Gracie winced.

“Gracie, don’t you understand
any
Russian?” Vicktor asked, shaking his head.

She made a wry face and shrugged.

“Yes, he was the Wolf. He was also KGB and a plant in the Church for over a quarter of a century.”

Shock sent her chin downward. “A plant in the Church?”

Roman folded his hands on the table. “It was common practice for the KGB to assign someone to the Church to watch them. Christianity was a crime in the former USSR. Most nonchurched kids grew up believing it was a cult and members were closely watched.”

“Yuri sent people to
gulag?
” Horror turned Gracie’s voice whisper thin.

Roman bowed his head. “My guess is yes.”

Silence around the table made his statement resonate. Vicktor squeezed her hand. Roman shifted in his seat. Pity stabbed her heart. Russians had so many reasons not to trust one another.

Gracie shot a furtive glance at the clock. “Who cooked up the plan to get Yuri?”

“The COBRAs had eyes on you all the way from the building to the plane, but no one could get a clean shot with you kicking your way across the tarmac.”

“She does pack quite a wallop,” Vicktor teased. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Gracie wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”

“Mae and I were at the plane and she was cutting the aileron cable to a thread. Under pressure on takeoff it would snap. Sadly, the pilot caught us. We had to subdue him, and she took over controls while I waited in the luggage bay for you to board.” Roman folded his hands on the table. “I’m
just glad we were able to get you off that plane before he took off.”

Gracie rubbed the scrape on her chin. “I’m walking away with a few bruises, Roman. Please, don’t ever push me off a moving plane again.”

Roman laughed. “I’ll try to keep that at a minimum.”

“Well, I’m glad I got to meet the woman who snared Vicktor’s heart,” Mae said. She combed her hair with her fingers, then fastened the red mane into a bun. “I can leave knowing he’s in good hands.”

“I’m in very good hands,” Vicktor echoed. “Thanks to Gracie, and Roman, and you, Mae.”

“And Yanna,” added Mae. “She was the one who dug up the file on Yuri, and confirmed his status as inactive/active KGB plant.”

Vicktor tipped his head to Yanna. “Thanks, Yanna. But I was referring more to your faithful prayers, Mae.”

Surprise limned Mae’s face. Gracie had the sudden urge to let out a Russian “ooh-rah!”

“I became a Christian this morning.”

Mae’s gape turned into a joyous smile. “Will miracles never cease?”

Vicktor shrugged, and Gracie noticed a hint of blush on her stalwart cop. It tickled her heart. Oh, underneath that hard-as-granite exterior, Vicktor was a big softie.

“Flight 248 to Anchorage, now boarding.”

Gracie went cold. She raised her gaze to Vicktor. His tortured expression made her want to weep.

“C’mon,” he said in a low voice. His face chiseled out a smile.

She dredged up one to match.

He held her tight until the last person had passed through Customs. Then, in front of all his friends, Vicktor cupped Gracie’s face in his hands and kissed her. Thoroughly, with enough love for her to carry with her, and hopefully believe, deep in
side, that he meant his words. “Hope dies last in Russia, Gracie. I will see you again.”

She nodded. Then she turned and ran through Customs, taking his heart with her. He waited until she was through, then shuffled back to his friends.

“I can’t believe you’re letting her go,” Yanna said, her eyes sparking. “Just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“No, it’s not ‘just like that.’” He imitated Yanna’s actions. “She’s the one. She’s the woman I’ve been waiting for.”

Roman rested his hand on Vicktor’s shoulder. “Do you trust her?”

“Absolutely.”

All three friends stared at him. Vicktor pressed the floor with his shoe.

“There’s always the Internet,” Roman said.

“We can put her on our chat list,” Yanna added.

Vicktor swallowed with difficulty. How was he going to live beyond this moment? He felt a chill creep over him.

“Well, gang, the fun’s over.” Mae fitted on her cap. “I need to run. I have a fistful of soldiers and one very crabby major to fly home.” She one-finger saluted them. “I’ll see you on the Net.” Whirling, she speed-walked away.

Vicktor followed her with jealous eyes.

Abruptly, she turned, cupped her hands and yelled, “You know, when you fly Aeroflot, you’re considered on Russian territory until you get off the plane in America.”

The seat belt light dinged off as the plane leveled. Gracie stared out the window for a last glimpse of Russia before they ascended into the clouds. “Goodbye, Vicktor.” Her heart constricted and she blinked back tears. The plane jetted into the cloud cover, obscuring Russia in a fog.

Disbelief twisted her empty stomach. Yuri Mikhailovich, head of the Russian Church was a spy, a traitor.

All the good friends she’d had in Russia had either betrayed her, or given their lives to protect her. She knew she had barely
skimmed the grief that would come. For the moment, her rawest emotions had to do with missing the man she had thought, five days ago, that she could least trust. But she’d learned trust was a choice, and not only that but God had seen her fears and given her life into the hands of a man who’d proved himself worthy.

Imagine that. She thought of Vicktor’s arms around her, and how he’d trembled with relief when he’d found her alive on the runway. She closed her eyes, aching as if a chunk of her heart had been ripped out of her chest.