Adrenaline pumped into Mendez’s veins, ramped his energy levels up to rocket-fuel intensity. Kat was down and he didn’t know if she’d been hit. He dove for her, rolling and dragging her behind a family mausoleum as he went.

She yelped as he pushed her into the shelter of the stone. He reached for one of the Glocks he’d taken off Sergei’s goons and jerked it from his waistband. He’d brought Kat here, even though he should have gone straight to Yuri’s place. It was sympathy that had made him put her first, and he couldn’t afford it. Softness would get them killed.

He crouched behind the mausoleum and scanned the surrounding area for the gunman. He wanted to check Kat for injuries, but first he had to be ready for an attack. He spared her a quick glance—blood dripped down the side of her face. Her hair was matted with it. But her eyes were bright and she looked pissed.

“You hit?” he asked her as he worked to control his breathing. To control the racing of his heart. When she’d gone down…

Shit.

“I’m not hit. I cut my head on a stone, I think.” She had her hand to her head, trying to staunch the blood flow. Head wounds always bled like a bitch, but he’d feel better if he could check her out.

First, he had to get them out of here alive. He went back to scanning the cemetery for movement.

“Damn Sergei,” she spat. “He knew I might come back to Roman’s grave. I should have guessed he would put someone here to watch.”

“You gonna be able to operate like that?”

Blood dripped down her forehead, staining her cheek. She racked the slide of her pistol. “I’m not an amateur, Johnny.”

The way she said his name stroked against his memories of Valentina. Sometimes he could swear they were the same woman. Other times he was convinced that Kat was too different to be Valentina.

“Good, because we need to get the fuck out of here. I’m betting our taxi is long gone,” he added wryly.

She laughed. “Bet you’re right. But we can steal something, right?”

She winked and he knew she was teasing him. A surge of hot desire sizzled into his balls. He wanted her. Badly. Instead, he kissed her even though he knew he shouldn’t.

She kissed him back, a little moan hitting his tongue as their mouths opened and tasted for a quick moment.

“For luck,” he said.

She smiled. “We are sure to succeed then.”

Another shot winged the mausoleum, closer this time. Stone chips rained down on their heads. “One shooter. If there were two, we’d be getting it from another direction—and more rapidly.”

“I think so too,” she said.

He studied the position of the graves. There were headstones and mausoleums, but the distance between mausoleums was too open. Unless they went backward, away from the cemetery entrance. They could try to loop around the perimeter maybe. Or find a path that brought them behind the shooter.

They could also wait. If there was one shooter, they could wait for him and ambush him when he arrived. If there were two, they still had a chance. But if there were three? Well, that would make things mighty interesting.

When it came right down to it though, Mendez’s style wasn’t conducive to waiting for a shooter to find him. Not when he had the skills to find and neutralize the threat first.

“Cover me,” he said.

He knew Kat would have protested, but he didn’t give her a chance. He darted out from behind the mausoleum and headed for the next closest.

Gunshots rang out and stone sprayed around him. But the gunshots came from both directions, and he knew Kat was doing as he’d asked. He made it to the stone facade and dove behind it.

Kat looked as if she’d swallowed a hornet’s nest. Her brows were drawn low and her pretty face—her bloody face—scrunched up with fury. Her eyes shot daggers at him. But she covered him when he took off again.

The shots from the other guy winged wildly, pinging grass and stone. Mendez would bet his ass this guy wasn’t military trained. Whoever was shooting at them didn’t take his time, didn’t line up his shots. He also had no patience. If he’d waited instead of squeezing off rounds, he might have gotten them to relax. To make a mistake.

Mendez darted between graves, ducking into cover, running again. The shots were all spitting at Kat now. Their attacker had lost sight of Mendez and was turning all his firepower onto the position where he knew one of them remained.

Which was precisely what Mendez wanted. There was still no sign of another shooter, no sign of reinforcements at all. Which didn’t mean they weren’t coming. He would have to act fast.

He ducked around a tall mausoleum—and there was his prey. A man with his back to Mendez perched behind another mausoleum, a cache of weapons at his feet. Mendez wasted no time. He stalked up behind the guy and pressed his pistol to the man’s temple.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Mendez said. “Drop the weapon.”

The man complied. He also put his hands in the air without being told. Mendez kicked the weapon away and nudged the black bag at the man’s feet that contained the rest of his guns.

“It’s okay, solnishko,” he called out. “I’ve got him.”

He knew that Kat wouldn’t simply walk across open ground. She would work her way over carefully, keeping cover at her back. She was smart and sexy, that woman.

“Who are you?” he demanded in Russian.

“No one,” came the reply.

“Who sent you?”

“The tooth fairy,” the man sneered. He had a face like a samurai blade—long and thin—and a voice that said he’d smoked many, many cigarettes and consumed countless bottles of vodka.

“You suck at your job,” Mendez said. “You couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with a cannon.”

Probably due to the bottle of vodka that lay propped against the stone. Had someone told this guy they’d be easy to pick off? Or was this merely a diversion?

Kat finally appeared, her face still bloody, her mouth set in a hard line. “This is the prick?”

“Yes,” Mendez told her. “He won’t say who sent him.”

The man spat. “It’s not worth my life. They will kill me.”

“Who? Sergei Turov?” Kat pressed.

Bingo. The man visibly swallowed at the mention of Turov.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mendez said.

Kat nodded and gathered up the bag of weapons along with the ammo and the guy’s cell phone, which lay on the ground nearby. “What are we going to do with him?”

“Dunno.” Mendez stepped in front of the guy, weapon still aimed at his head. “What’s your thought on it? Kill you or let you go?”

“I was doing a job. Nothing personal. Let me go and you won’t see me again. I swear.”

“Kill him,” Kat said, her voice steely.

“Nah,” Mendez replied. “Too easy.”

The man swallowed, his eyes bugging out.

“Got any cuffs in there?” Mendez nodded to the bag.

Kat started fishing around when the dude didn’t answer. She came up with a pair of shiny steel cuffs dangling from one finger.

Once Mendez searched the guy for the key and pocketed it, they cuffed him to a steel ring embedded in the marble of one of the mausoleums.

“If you’re lucky, you won’t freeze to death before someone finds you. But you sure will have some explaining to do to Sergei, won’t you?”

The man looked petrified as the thought of what Sergei Turov might do to him began to penetrate his brain.

Mendez leaned in for a second, staring into the bastard’s eyes. His breath stank of vodka and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Tell Turov I’m coming.”