By the time Yuri Budayev returned, they were dressed and waiting for him in the living quarters. He came in smiling, looking far more like a poor old farmer than a wealthy arms dealer. Kat watched him with Johnny. He seemed genuinely pleased to see the man who’d once saved him. A good thing for them, certainly.

Not that she wouldn’t watch the Tiger for signs of treachery. One wrong move and she’d pop him in the head with a bullet. But the fact he hadn’t forced them to disarm was a point in his favor.

“Come,” he said to them. “You can tell me what the trouble is after we eat.”

Kat followed behind the two men as they walked together and talked. Her eyes were pretty much glued to Johnny’s ass. Such a fine ass. An ass she’d gripped in both hands not so long ago as he’d thrust into her again and again.

A shudder rolled from her scalp to her toes and back again. A good shudder. The kind of shudder that said she’d been thoroughly satisfied and couldn’t wait to do it again.

She frowned. There was no again. There couldn’t be. She couldn’t take the emotional hit anyway. That’s why she’d totally fobbed it off when he’d said they shouldn’t have sex again—but, oh, maybe they could when the mission was over. She’d been hurt, and she didn’t like it. So she’d told him she could get sex anywhere and then acted like it hadn’t been anything special.

He’d frowned, but he’d moved so she could go clean up and get dressed again. She’d even returned to the bedroom to dress in front of him since her clothes were strewn across the floor, lazily pulling on underwear and pants and then her bra and shirt. She’d stretched her arms over her head, letting her breasts jiggle as she slipped into her bra. She’d taken her time because she could feel his eyes boring into her.

She’d pretended the sex had been ordinary, but it had been spectacular. Like always. From the first time they’d frantically ripped at each other’s clothes over twenty years ago to now, there’d never been another man who made her feel what he did.

The guilt waiting in the deepest recesses of her soul flared its ugly head. She’d lied to him. Let him think he was with someone new. Was it fair that she was the only one who’d known it wasn’t their first time? That she had all the memories while he had none? Or maybe he’d been remembering those times while also thinking he was fucking her twin.

Still, she knew the answer to the question of whether or not it was fair. And she didn’t like what it said about her that she’d allowed it to happen. That she still wasn’t telling him the truth.

They reached the dining room and Yuri gestured to their seats. A beautiful older woman walked into the room from another door, carrying a tray, and Kat stiffened. There’d been someone else here the whole time? They hadn’t seen or heard a peep out of anyone. Were there more of them?

And what had they heard when she and Johnny were in bed together? Because they hadn’t exactly been quiet. She hadn’t, anyway.

Johnny must have had the same expression on his face because Yuri laughed. “She is deaf,” he said. “She cannot hear what we say. She does read lips, however, so be careful.”

The woman was looking at Yuri, so she grinned. He swatted her on the bottom as she disappeared again.

“She loves to cook, so I do not bring in anyone else to do it.”

“Your wife?” Johnny asked.

Yuri took a slug of liquid from the glass she’d set in front of him. “She refuses my proposals so no, not my wife.” He uncovered a dish. The smells wafting from it were heavenly. “Thankfully she is not so stingy when it comes to sharing my bed.”

The woman returned, bearing more dishes. By the time the table was groaning, she stopped and signed something to Yuri. He signed back. Then she walked out.

“She knows we must talk business, so she is leaving us to do so.”

“It can wait until after we eat,” Johnny said, though Kat knew he was growing impatient. “She should join us.”

Yuri shook his head. “No, she ate while preparing the meal. She says she is not hungry. Now eat.”

They dug into the shchi, the cabbage soup flavored with meat, vegetables, and hot spices. There were also pelmeni, little doughy pillows filled with minced beef, lamb, and pork—similar to Chinese dumplings, actually, but not quite—and roasted chicken with marinated vegetables. By the time they got to dessert, Kat was too full to have even a bite of it.

As if she’d known when they would be done, the woman—Elena, Yuri called her—returned with hot tea. Once they had their tea, she was gone again.

“So tell me the problem, Viper. I cannot imagine you have come all this way for something small.”

Johnny held a tea glass in one big hand. “Do you know who killed Anatoly Levkin?”

Yuri’s eyes sparkled. “I had heard it was you.”

“It wasn’t.”

“They say you sent in a team of Special Operators. That you have gone rogue.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“And yet you are here. In Russia…” His gaze strayed to her for a second. “…with a lovely Russian woman who is far more than merely decorative.”

“I’m here to find the truth. And to stop those who want to frame me. I won’t take the fall for something I didn’t do. Not if I can help it.”

“What do you wish me to do?”

“I need weapons. And I need to get close to Sergei Turov.”

Yuri’s eyes widened at that last statement. “Turov is difficult. He has more security surrounding him than the president of Russia. Their firepower is not insignificant.”

“Yes, but he purchased most of that from you, Yuri.”

The other man nodded. “This is true. But what do you wish me to do? Deactivate hundreds of weapons with the press of a button? This is not a part of my skill set, I’m afraid.”

“I just need to get close enough. I need to know what they’re using, and I need to get inside.”

Yuri blinked. “What you ask is impossible.”

Johnny leaned forward, his eyes glowing with determination. “Not impossible. Only improbable. Where none dare is my organization’s creed. It’s where we go. It’s what we do. I won’t do anything less than what I ask of them every single day.”

“But you are one man,” Yuri said. “You are not a team.”

“And one woman,” Kat interjected. “He’s not alone.”

Not to mention she knew a little something about Sergei’s habits. Not that she would tell this man.

Yuri dragged a hand over his nearly bald scalp. “He might as well be. Two against hundreds? It will never work.”

Johnny arched an eyebrow. “From the man who should have died in Afghanistan? Who lived against all the odds? They left you for dead and yet here you are. You’re telling me something is impossible?”

Yuri stared for a long moment. Then he sighed heavily. “I will do what I can. But there are no guarantees.”

Johnny seemed to relax for the first time since they’d walked into this room. “There never are, my friend.”