Kira didn’t waste a moment. Into the phone, she said, “He’s here. We’re locked in.”

She grabbed the bat that poked out from under the unmade bed next to her and charged the man who’d foolishly believed she was so weak and helpless without Rand, he hadn’t even drawn a weapon.

Remembering everything Chase had taught her about hand-to-hand combat, she landed a blow with the bat to his groin before he even realized she had a weapon, let alone had a chance to take a protective stance. He shrieked and took a step back, but stayed on his feet.

She swung again, one-handed this time, but he blocked the blow and knocked the bat from her hand. Momentum spun her. She rebalanced with a kick to his belly. He caught her foot, and she screamed as she teetered. A half-full bottle of wine—leftover from last night—was on the dresser, just within her reach. She grabbed it and hit him in the head with all her might, pushing off with her planted leg. He released her foot as he fell backward, and she followed him with her extended foot, planting it in his gut when he hit the floor.

She swung the bottle at his head again. The glass shattered as it met floor and temple. He went lights out as wine dumped onto his face, mixing with the blood that seeped from a jagged cut to the left of his eye.

She kept the bottle poised to cut the man’s jugular if he so much as twitched. She searched his body and found a gun and a knife, which she tossed on the bed, out of his reach.

She needed to retrieve Rand’s phone. She’d dropped it when she grabbed the baseball bat. She plucked the wooden bat from the floor and slowly backed up, broken wine bottle in her right hand and bat in the left.

She took her eyes off the FSB agent just long enough to spot the phone on the floor, then kicked it to the side so she could see Andre as she set the bat down and hit the Speaker button on the phone. She picked up the bat again and spoke loudly, her gaze fixed on the unconscious man. “Those self-defense classes with Chase Johnston at Raptor have really paid off.”

“You’ve been taking classes? What the hell happened?”

She gave a quick summary, then said, “I’m pretty sure he’s unconscious. If he twitches, I’ll open his throat with the wine bottle.”

“Check him for weapons.”

“Already done. Handgun and a knife.”

“Keep the gun. We couldn’t get Rand a weapon in Malta. Do you have anything to tie him up with? Where’s Rand? He should be with you.”

There was a sound at the door. Rand was back. “Kira, unlatch the security bar.”

If only she’d engaged the security bar when Rand left, none of this would have happened, but she’d been so stunned he’d given her his phone, it hadn’t crossed her mind.

Then again, it might be a good thing Andre had entered her hotel room. Now they had a gun. And a Russian spy.

He’d been gone all of twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes.

He finished tying up the unconscious man, then stepped back and admired the jagged cut and rising lump that disfigured one side of “Andre’s” face. He would imagine the blow to the nuts with the baseball bat looked just as bad, but he wasn’t about to check. “Nice work.”

“I might have broken a rib or two when I stomped on his stomach.”

Rand cupped a hand behind the back of her neck and tugged her toward him, then brushed his lips over her forehead. He wanted to aim for her lips, but wouldn’t make that move without permission. He held her gaze. “I’m amazed you had a baseball bat. I will never underestimate you again.”

She glanced down at her fake cousin. “He won’t either.”

She stepped back and crossed her arms as she nudged the unconscious man with the toe of her shoe. “What do we do with him?”

Rand grabbed his cell phone and dialed Freya, who answered immediately. “What did you find out?”

“I got you an apartment. It’s even got a view. You still have your car?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Okay, you have the kit I gave you at the airport?”

“Yes. I was grabbing it from the car when the guy came after Kira.”

“Gotcha. Okay, there’s an app on the phone in the kit. Use it to take photos of both his hands. A biometric software company gave us the beta on the next iteration of their product. We should get decent prints. Get his ears too. Then check his face for makeup and prosthetics. We haven’t been able to find this guy anywhere. He might have done some slight alterations.”

It took only a minute to power up the phone and set up his and Kira’s face recognition, then he took all the photos Freya requested using the app. Andre didn’t wear makeup or prosthetics, which made sense in Malta, where the heat meant sweat would cause the makeup to run.

He would forever wonder how it was so many movies were filmed here.

“Maybe he had a beard,” Kira suggested. “And a wig to hide the receding hairline.”

“We’ll run his face with variations on head and facial hair. Does his hair look dyed?”

“He doesn’t have much, but what he has is dark—almost black—and even,” Kira said. “No roots. I bet he colored it a few days ago.”

Rand cursed and said, “I’ll check.” He yanked down the man’s pants and reported his findings. “Pubic hair is gray and brownish red. And now I can’t unsee his junk, which the bat did a number on, thank you very much. It’s a dick pic no one wants. Ever.”

Freya laughed. “You really are a hero, Rand.”

“Hey! I’m the one who knocked him out.” Kira snickered, then said, “But yeah. I wasn’t gonna do that.”

“Grab your things and get out of there,” Freya said.

Again, Kira prodded the man with her toe. “We’re just going to leave him here? That’s…not very kind to housekeeping. I like the hotel staff.”

“I’ve got a CIA contact I’m going to reach out to. I’ll tell him that we’ve got a potential FSB agent trussed up like a turkey and have him pass it along to one of his contacts. The Russians can clean up their own mess.”

Rand knew what that meant. It was unlikely the man would see another dawn. But it was his own people who would do the dirty work.

“They might not need the tip. He was pretty scared when we met him at the garden earlier.”

“I was thinking the same thing. That’s why you need to get moving.”

Rand stuffed the items he’d set out to dry earlier back in his duffel as Kira cleaned out the dresser and bathroom vanity.

On their way out, Rand hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. Kira had the room for another week. The man would likely be collected in the next few hours, but it would be days before anyone checked the room. He’d try to come back and make sure the blood and wine were cleaned from the floor before housekeeping got a nasty surprise.

Kira marveled at Rand’s comfort behind the wheel as he navigated the dark and twisting roads of a foreign country. She imagined finding his way in a foreign land was part of SEAL training, but still, he drove with the same relaxed air he’d had in DC—and while she could navigate Dupont Circle like a boss, she was never relaxed while doing it.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, surprising herself when the words slipped out.