Chapter 18

NADIA CLIMBED ONTO one of the two stools at Janna’s eating bar. Aromas of roast chicken and lemons wafted from a casserole dish on the counter. She accepted a little more pinot in her glass. “It’s a nice wine.” The women had left Matt in the office to make his call in private. Nadia glanced in that direction.

“Matt’s a good guy.” Janna added to her goblet and sat on the adjacent stool. “You can trust him. I see how he is with you, and how you look at him. Great that even under these circumstances you’ve found each other.”

Inside her, a soft, hopeful feeling warred with a fear of going all in. Irrational, but there it was. “We have a history. It’s complicated.”

“What relationship isn’t?” Janna looked as if she were about to share something about her and Gabe Harris, but instead she drank wine. “How is it that you and the Modena princess are old friends?”

Nadia told her the same thing she’d told Matt, that her mother and Sari’s mother, the queen, were friends, and that the two girls had roomed together in college.

They chatted about college life and Nadia majoring in film. Then Janna asked, “Did you and the princess ever pretend to be each other?”

Nadia brightened at the happy memory. “Sometimes we wore each other’s clothes and spoofed people, yes.”

“People. Like guys on dates?”

“Sure. Once or twice. I can do her boarding-school British accent, but she can’t do American, so it was tricky.” She grinned, remembering the time a guy caught out Sari because of her terrible American accent. “Our hair was almost the same color back then. These days, Sari has hers lightened a few shades.”

“More princess-like, I suppose,” Janna said.

Nadia agreed and set her glass away, refusing the other woman’s offer of more. Tapping fingers on the bar’s granite top, she swiveled toward the hallway. “This call is taking a long time. What if—”

“No what ifs,” Janna said. “They’re probably going over all the possibilities.”

“Or else Matt’s contact has started a search for him. For us.”

“Don’t sweat it. My ping bouncer works, and Matt’s the best. People talk at work, no matter how super secret the agency’s supposed to be. He’s proven himself an excellent DARK officer, and he’s worked so hard to recover after his terrible injury so he can get back to field officer status. He’s risking a lot by running with you, you know.”

Emotion clogged Nadia’s throat. “Everything. He’s risking everything.”

She hated this helpless feeling. Yes, she’d moved closer to their goal by recognizing Cardona, but she was used to making plans and doing the organizing. The conversation turned to the afternoon’s Star Wars marathon, but her mind kept working. If only there was something more she could do….

When Matt returned from his call, he stopped in the hallway, enjoying hearing the women talk like old friends. Aside from the breakthrough, bringing Nadia here was a big plus.

Unless DARK or Cardona’s thugs arrived with guns drawn at Janna’s apartment, they were safe. He’d called Byrne, figuring he’d go along more readily than straight-arrow Stratton. Even Byrne had been pissed as hell at first but calmed down as Matt explained. They also kicked around scenarios for how the bombing had gone down, but came to no conclusions.

Finally, Matt had asked Byrne to persuade Harris not to accuse Nadia. The other man had agreed, saying both he and Stratton would work on Harris.

Matt joined the women. “Looks like we’re good to go. I’ll phone in the morning and arrange for Nadia and me to be collected.” He checked the clock on the kitchen wall. “Alina Greco will be under surveillance in a matter of minutes. Picking her up tonight might’ve alerted Cardona. With any luck, she’ll lead officers to him and we won’t need a trap.”

He stood beside Nadia and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I explained about you identifying Cardona meeting with her. That key bit of information should be enough for Harris to back off interrogating you.”

Clasping the hand on her shoulder, she turned and met his gaze. “If it’s not, I’ll deal.” Her voice was strong but anxiety was stark in her eyes.

The theme music from Doctor Who erupted from Janna’s jeans pocket. She pulled out her phone. “I have to take this. That’s my dad. Help yourself to a beer.” She disappeared down the hall and into a bedroom. The door shut with a soft click.

He brought his bottle back and took the stool she’d vacated.

“That it? Or just all you can reveal?” Nadia said.

He shrugged. “DARK has intel that the next attempt on the princess will be at a charity ribbon cutting Tuesday afternoon.”

“The Capital Refugee Resettlement Center,” she said. “She’s been a big donor on behalf of Modena, where a lot of refugees wash up on the beaches. But she must still be weak. How can she…?” She looked away, lost in thought, or in sorrow for her friend.

“Probably she won’t be strong enough to attend. Stratton said as much, that they couldn’t allow her to set herself up as a target anyway.”

“I can do it,” Nadia said.

His hand jerked, and beer splashed on his shirt. He hardly noticed the icy wetness. “Excuse me?”

“I can be the target. DARK can set it up. I look enough like Sari, can even change my hair and wear her clothes. I can take her place and help trap the rebel leader.”

Shit in a shoebox. “Honey, no. You’ve helped already by recognizing him. You can’t do this.” He set away the beer bottle and grasped her hands. Not trembling. Like her determined gaze, they were steady.

“You don’t get it, Matt. I was the one who brought the phony crew into the embassy. Those men and Pascale died, and Sari nearly did.”

“Because those men brought the bomb in, not you. And here’s another flash. You probably saved Sarika’s life by moving her chair over by the glass doors and keeping the curtain open. The blast threw her onto the balcony, and the overturned chair shielded her from the worst of the flaming debris.”

She shook her head and tugged on her hands, but he held onto her. “I want, no, I need to do something to help, something to take away the weight of responsibility for that damn bomb. I can be the—”

“Goat? And put yourself in the crosshairs, defenseless? Not gonna happen. DARK would never agree to such a fucking stu— ah, risky idea.”

The look she leveled at him could’ve frozen Lake Michigan. “We’ll see.”

Nadia tossed her rain jacket on the back of a chair and toed off her sneakers. Matt’s mood had turned blacker than a fade-out since they left Janna’s. Difficulty finding a hotel room this late on a Friday night hadn’t improved matters. With both of them on phones — new burners — finally they booked a vacancy at this small brick inn near Dupont Circle.

DARK would pick them up in the morning, and agents would probably separate them, her for questioning and Matt for what they call debriefing, mere semantics for what was the same as questioning. He’d assured her that his colleagues would prevent her interrogation from being conducted by somebody other than Gabriel Harris. Maybe. She’d be ready… as long as she could have this one night, this last night with Matt. But not one of anger and argument. She didn’t dare think the L word, but if they could make love with tenderness and trust, their — what, affair, interlude? — would give her, them, fond memories. The idea of never being with him again scraped her heart. Buck up, Nadie, as Dad would say.

She turned toward Matt, who’d shot the locks but still stood in the foyer. “David Martinez, Paul Malik and now Josh Bruno. Just how many of those fake IDs do you have?” And credit cards, she could’ve added. But she was trying for light and playful.

“Enough.” He bit the words between clenched teeth. The veins were nearly popping out of his neck. He stalked — no other way to describe that stiff and, yes, pissed-off stride — to the pair of windows and pulled the drapes.

Her attempt at light? Major fail. She wanted his smile back, the smile that made her heart race. She was right about taking Sari’s place, she knew it. She could help her mother’s country, protect her dearest friend from further dangers and clear suspicion from herself. If Matt couldn’t understand that— No, that was wrong. He did understand because he knew her, and his intensity now meant he was afraid for her. At the thought, deep longing welled up within her.

She rummaged in the backpack for her things while he performed security checks — bathroom, closet, desk, lamps — with the bug detector that masqueraded as a pen, invented by Janna, she’d learned. Maybe routine would soothe the beast within. If not that, then maybe the room’s earth tones, the fireplace, the oriental carpet, the soft glow of the desk lamp.

He ripped off his rain jacket, tossed it on the room’s upholstered chair. The sweatshirt followed. He kicked away his sneakers as if they were live alligators eating his toes. One bounced away into a corner.

Not soothed. Not a bit.

She had to get him talking. She approached him and placed a hand on his arm. His fists were clenched, the forearm muscles bulging. Quite tantalizingly, but instead of continuing to stare, she placed her hands on them. She clucked her tongue. “Such taut muscles. Are you about to go all Incredible Hulk on me?”

He chuffed and met her gaze with a scowl, but his bunched muscles relaxed beneath her fingers. “Dammit, Nadia, what you intend is fucking dangerous.” He bent and pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t want to lose… I mean, we have something together I don’t want to lose when it’s over. I don’t want us to be over. I care about you, for you… a lot. I don’t want you hurt. Or…” He heaved a sigh, ran his hands up and down her upper arms.

His words, wrenched from deep within him, tightened her throat. The gentleness in his touch and in his chocolate gaze started pulsing between her legs. She’d never wanted a man the way she wanted Matt, but she wasn’t ready to reveal more than he had. “I care for you too. I’ve let the past go. I don’t know where this — us being together — is going, but I want to find out.”

“But dammit, Nadia—”

She stopped him with a finger on his lips. “You’re afraid for me, and I love that, but I have to do this if DARK will go for it.” When he said nothing, his impressive erection tight against her belly, she knew what he wanted at the moment. “Why didn’t you accept Janna’s offer to stay there? Because you wanted to keep yelling at me?”

“No,” he growled. But the corners of his mouth turned upward.

“Then why?” She slid her arms around his waist and tugged his T-shirt from his jeans. “Was it because of this?” She ran her palms up his bare back, being careful with the healing scabs. She danced her fingers along his spine, reveling in his solid power. Just touching him like this made her insides melt.

He sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed her arms, pulled her hands away their seductive play. His dark eyes flashed with barely banked fire. “You’re not going to change my mind. Setting yourself up as bait is a nutty idea. Too risky.”

“I know.” His mouth came down on hers like lightning. Yes!

She gave up control to him as one hand on the back of her head held her in place while the other gripped her butt, clamping her against him. The sleek glide of his tongue against her lips coaxed them open, sending a spill of desire throughout her as she tangled her tongue with his, tasting of cinnamon gum. Needing to touch every plane and angle of him, she tugged at the soft cotton fabric until he pulled it over his head and tossed it away. He was all heat and hardness and musky male scent. Both breathless, they clung to each other as his jeans and boxers were shucked and then her outer clothes and panties. He flicked open her bra and threw it aside, palmed her breasts and laved them with his tongue until they gleamed and beaded from his caresses and the cool air. Her breath came hurried and shallow, and she could barely stand.

She threw back the king bed’s covers, and he drew her down onto the smooth sheets and on top of him. They kissed with such heat and hunger, her head reeled and her body thrummed with desire. She writhed against him, pressed kisses to his lightly furred chest, to his flat nipples, to the pulse beating below his throat. She’d known passion before, but nothing so all encompassing as how only this man, more than any other she’d ever known, could saturate her senses, could make her feel a pull like the tide, could make her want more than she could have….

His heated length strained against her belly, and when she rubbed herself against him and scraped her nails along the base of his spine, he groaned and arched his back. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.” His voice rasped but contained a smile. At last.

He turned them to face each other, and his fingers delved into the moisture between her thighs. She went perfectly still, all her circuits tangled and ripplets of heat surged through her. “Matt!”

“I know.” He slid downward and kissed her intimately with his mouth and tongue, tasting and flicking and exploring. Quivers shuddered up her thighs and the climax took her, a shattering burning that lasted only an instant, like lightning. She gasped, her breathing shallow and hurried.

“There’s more,” he murmured as he moved upward and slid into her.

Her inner muscles tightened around him as she drew him in deeper. “Yes, oh yes.” She loved his dark liquid gaze, his heat, his salty male scent, how even his touch made her insides melt, how he took his time pleasuring her, blurring the boundaries of her body joining his. But in the recesses of her mind fear lurked. Was she getting in too deep, setting herself up for pain and heartbreak? He moved, seeking, driving again and again until he drew from her a wrenching wave of pleasure that dissolved all thought.