Mendez had a stop to make before he headed for the airport. He exited the highway and wove through one of the many suburbs of Atlanta until he found what he was looking for. Kat arched an eyebrow as he drove down a country road, then pulled up to the gate of a storage facility that had seen better days. He punched in a code and the gate slid back.

“What’s this?” she asked as he drove through and toward the rear of the lines of storage units.

“Insurance,” he said. He pulled between two buildings and shut off the pickup truck. It was an older model, not equipped with the latest in air-conditioning or heat, but it had done the job. The third vehicle he’d jacked since New Orleans.

Kat tilted her head to look at the building just outside his door. It was climate-controlled, which was more than he could say for the truck.

He swung the door open and dropped a booted foot on the pavement. Picking up his duffel, he kicked the door shut and dragged open the outer door of the storage building. Kat was right behind him as he strode down the aisle until he reached the one he wanted. The lock he’d put on the door was pedestrian, but anything too fancy and it would have been noticed.

He bent down and inserted the key into the lock. Then he pulled it off and dragged the door upward. He found the battery-powered lantern he’d left inside and turned it on. He’d dropped an electrical outlet into the unit for his computer and secure Wi-Fi device and he went over to turn them on.

Kat stood in the entrance with her jaw hanging open. He thought about shutting her mouth with his but then decided that was the mother of all bad ideas. He strode past her and dragged the metal door down until it hit the floor. Then he returned to the computer and booted it up.

“What is this?”

He looked up and snorted. It was the second time she’d said those words. “Need me to kick-start that brain of yours?”

She shook her head. “No, but I asked you once and you didn’t explain. Insurance is not an answer. I asked again because this is not what I imagined when we drove in here.”

He let his gaze slide over the interior of the unit. It was ten by twenty, which gave him enough room to store some things and to sleep if he really had to. There were no facilities here, but the main office had a restroom. There was a YMCA down the road for showers if necessary.

“What’s it look like?” he asked.

She came to his side and gazed at the screen, which showed that the computer was currently running through the boot process. Then she took in the shelves, the equipment, the safe in one corner, the Army cot against the wall.

“Looks like a command center. For a doomsday prepper,” she added.

He laughed. “Yeah, well I’m prepared for my own kind of doomsday. Apparently it’s arrived.”

She turned her gaze on him. “You were expecting this?”

“Not exactly.” He tapped on the computer, entering the passwords at each screen. “But you don’t spend nearly thirty years in special operations and expect to not make enemies. Or that your enemies won’t come after you.”

When he’d finally gotten approval to take HOT deep black, he’d made preparations. He’d always had a plan since his days in Moscow, but the plan had taken on new dimensions over the past few years. Deeper dimensions.

She folded her arms. He had to drag his gaze away from the effect the move had on her breasts. They swelled upward, threatening to spill out of her tank top. Not that he really expected they were in any danger of breaking free from their lacy restraints.

Yeah, he knew her bra had lace on it. He’d seen the outline of it beneath the silk a few times in the past several hours.

As for the breaking free—a man could hope.

“No kidding,” she said darkly.

He dragged a rolling stool in front of the makeshift desk and sat on it. “Who are your enemies?” he asked as he navigated to the secret email server he’d set up last year.

“I think you met with one of them yesterday.”

He glanced up. “And yet he didn’t kill you.”

“Of course he didn’t. That’s not Dmitri’s way, and you know it. He prefers to tighten the noose while you feel him getting closer. He wants his prey to panic. He’s a killer, but he’s not an efficient killer. He makes mistakes because he’s sadistic and prefers the game over the result.”

That was certainly true of the man Mendez had known in the past. And the man he’d dealt with just last year when Alpha Squad had swept Leonov up in a mission to rescue Double Dee’s daughter. They’d put him in jail, but it hadn’t lasted.

There was no longer any doubt in Mendez’s mind who was really behind Leonov’s release. Mark DeWitt had definitely wielded his influence to open the prison doors. Probably in response to pressure by Sergei Turov. If Mendez could only find the thread that linked those two, he’d have everything he needed to bury the veep for good.

A man could hope. And a man could act on that hope.

“Then I guess you’d better pray he doesn’t get another chance,” Mendez said.

“I don’t intend to let him get close enough. To either of us,” she added. She tipped her chin toward the computer. “Care to tell me what you’re doing?”

He had a privacy filter on the screen so he wasn’t worried she could see it from where she stood. “Nope.”

She stalked over to where he had a couple of folding chairs against the wall and unfolded one with jerky motions that told him she was irritated. Then she plopped down on it and crossed her legs.

“You act like you’re the one in charge,” she said tightly, folding those arms beneath her breasts again. Pushing them together.

He began to wonder if she did it on purpose. He blanked his expression so she wouldn’t see whether or not she affected him. So long as he kept on sitting, she wouldn’t notice the ridge of his cock pushing against his jeans.

Fine fucking time to suffer from random hard-ons. It was like suddenly being a teenager again and never knowing when the Horny Fairy would strike. Unfortunately for most boys, it happened at precisely the moment they least wanted it—and could least hide it.

“I am in charge, sweetheart,” he growled at her.

Her eyes narrowed. “You do it to piss me off, don’t you? First of all, I am not your sweetheart, John Mendez. And second of all, you are not in charge of me.”

“I think we piss each other off, Kat.” He paused for a second. “If you can’t handle the pressure, you can back out now. Tell Ian you tried. He won’t blame you.”

She shot to her feet, her eyes flashing sudden fire. She reminded him so much of Valentina in that moment that it physically hurt. A hole opened up in his chest, its emptiness consuming him for the brief moment in which he lost control of it.

But then he found the barrier and slammed it shut again. Locked down the pain and emotion. Shoved it behind walls so high and thick that they could never shatter… never leave him vulnerable to the yawning cavern of emotion that lurked within every man.

“Nice try, baby,” she snapped. The word baby zipped through him like an electrical current. She did it to make him mad, but it amused him for some reason. She tossed her hair and put her hands on her hips. Jesus, she was something else to look at. “You need all the help you can get—and right now the only help you’ve got is me.”

He liked watching her temper flare. She was gorgeous and fiery and she made his balls ache. His email pinged and his attention shifted to the screen in front of him. The message was brief and to the point. He hit Reply and typed out a quick answer. It was in code, but Ghost would know what it meant when he got it in a few hours.

Once he sent the message, he did a quick spin around the dark web, and then he shut everything down and closed the laptop. Kat’s frown was deep.

“Five minutes? You came here for five minutes on a computer?”

“Not entirely.” He shoved the stool back until he was at the safe. He unlocked it and tugged the door open. A metal box inside the safe contained several passports, credit cards, and cash. He took out what he needed and put everything else back again.

Kat was still frowning at him. She could see the passport he’d selected because he’d tossed it onto the top of the safe. She nibbled her bottom lip. He wanted to nibble it for her.

Stop.

Jesus, he hated this tug of attraction he felt every time he looked at her. It was distracting—and unproductive as hell.

“Russian?” She’d switched into her native tongue, so he answered her with the same. He’d had an affinity for languages as a kid. Spanish and English were the two he’d grown up with, but he’d also learned some Russian and Polish from the immigrant communities he’d encountered when his parents moved for work. He’d learned to speak fluent Russian in military schools after West Point, and he spoke without an American accent due to the exposure he’d had as a kid. Quite an advantage for an operator.

“Da. Is that a problem for you?”

Storm clouds crossed her face. “I left there a long time ago. There’s nothing good for me there.”

“Then don’t go.”

She blew out a breath. “You know I’m going. Where are we headed?”

“Moscow.” He was going farther than Moscow, but she didn’t need to know that just yet.

“You should not go to Moscow,” she said. “It’s dangerous for you. And dangerous for the mission.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Because it makes me look guilty?”

Her expression was troubled. “Precisely. Yes. You need to reconsider this plan. They are accusing you of orchestrating the ambassador’s murder with your military team. And then you go to Moscow, to the scene of the crime? No, you shouldn’t do it, Johnny.”

His senses reeled whenever she said his name like that. Because she sounded like Valentina and he was thrown into the past. A past that was gone, no matter what this turned out to be. A past that could never be recaptured.

Get it together, Mendez.

Yeah, he fucking had to get it together and stop thinking about the past. About her.

“There’s no other option,” he told her. “The truth is there. You know it as well as I do. Sergei Turov is behind everything. The only way to stop DeWitt from damaging the presidency is to expose his connection to Turov.”

“And you are going to simply waltz into Moscow and demand that Sergei tell you everything? You do not know him if you think that will work.”

“And you don’t know me if you think he’ll have a choice. Besides, I have a secret weapon.”

She frowned. “What’s that?”

“You.”