Kira was almost dizzy with the feeling of déjà vu as they passed through the gate and circled the fountain. Rand stopped the car in front of the ornate Mediterranean villa entrance. It was the stuff of childhood princess fantasies with colorful mosaic tile doors and pavement flanked by palm trees and flowery shrubs manicured to perfection.

“I’ve been here, Rand. I know it. Just like I knew I’d been in Birgu.”

“We need Freya to find out what year Kulik bought the place. For you to have been here in childhood, it would have to be well before the fall of the Soviet Union.”

Kira stared at the faintly familiar fountain as she considered the timeline. “His status in the Communist Party could well have meant he was given more freedoms. And it’s possible he was an unofficial ambassador. The Maltese Embassy was established in Moscow in 1982, and the first commercial agreement between Malta and the USSR was signed in 1979. Plus, there was that 1988 Malta summit with President Bush and General Secretary Gorbachev. Freya said Kulik and Gorbachev were tight.”

“But now he’s an oligarch in a position to take his money and run, while his son seeks a ministerial role in the next Russian government.”

“It’s got to be maddening to Reuben that his father controls the money and could spike his prospects with little effort.” She opened her car door. “Let’s see who’s home and find out how chummy father and son are.” Better to focus on that than the knowledge this wasn’t her first time entering this house.

She believed her father was “friends” of a sort with the elder Kulik, but surely he hadn’t brought her and her mother here?

Rand placed a hand on her thigh before she climbed from the seat. “We stick together every minute. I don’t care if you need to use the bathroom. We will officially enter the peeing-with-the-door-open stage of this relationship if we have to.”

She smiled. “So soon? We haven’t even entered the sex-in-the-shower stage.”

His beautiful blue eyes filled with a sexy heat. “We’ll remedy that as soon as possible.” Then his mouth was on hers in a hot, fast, deep kiss that sent heat straight to her core.

After the kiss, she held his warm gaze and moved her hand from the back of his neck to run her thumb over the spot just beneath his lip where she’d left a smear of lipstick. “I can’t wait.”

She released him and reached into her purse. She handed him a tissue to clean up and found the tube to reapply. She checked her appearance in the visor mirror, smoothing her hair. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Her social anxiety hadn’t plagued her since the first night at the reception, but now she felt a flutter of a different kind of nerves.

“You look beautiful.” Rand’s voice was low and reverent. He meant it, and that bolstered her.

Later, she’d marvel at how wild it was that a man as incredible as Lieutenant Commander Randall Fallon was so clearly taken with her, but for now, she’d just enjoy the ride. “I’d kiss you for that, but then we’d have to start over, and we’d never get out of this car.”

Of course, that had a certain appeal.

“You got this.”

“I wouldn’t without you.”

He kissed her nose. “We got this.”

She slid toward the open car door. “Then let’s do it.”

The car beeped with the sound of the alarm arming. He took her hand as they walked up the stone steps. Her belly rolled, and she was thankful for the physical contact. Her mother’s voice was back. Her words were unintelligible, possibly Russian, but the tone was there. The warmth.

Her mother had been here with her, she was sure of it.

A shiver of fear ran down her spine. She knew now she’d learn more about her parents today than she’d ever bargained for. The truth had settled at the edge of her consciousness, like a forgotten word or name that teased the mind, staying just out of reach.

The door opened wide as they approached, and they were greeted by a male servant. “I am told to bring Miss Hanson into the main gallery to wait.”

Wait for what…or whom?

But she didn’t bother asking. If their host was going to pretend this was a planned visit, so would she.

The man paused before leading them down the hall. “Mr. Fallon is to wait here.”

“No,” they said in unison. Rand’s grip on her hand tightened.

The butler—or whatever his title was—paused for a long beat, his gaze dropping to their hands.

“We’ll do this another time, then,” Rand said, turning for the door.

She moved with him. They were united in this. The sooner they left, the sooner they’d get back to the apartment and could try shower sex. She wasn’t sure she wanted the answers she’d find here anyway.

Unfortunately, the man cleared his throat and said, “Very well. Follow me.”

Rand felt Kira’s hand tremble as they approached the arched entry to an ornate room that had been designed and decorated to ensure visitors knew the homeowner had ridiculous wealth. His first time in a billionaire’s residence.

It was pretty and cold. Not a place to live. The couch and chairs looked stiff and uncomfortable. His recliner might lack style, but it was damn comfy and his favorite place to sit and write when he had time.

Kira took in the room, betraying none of the nerves he knew she felt. Outwardly, she was serene.

His badass Valkyrie.

He pulled out his phone and texted Freya, letting her know they were in the house.

She sent a link. He clicked on it, giving her control of the small video camera in his shirt collar. She could hear and record everything as long as his cell phone signal wasn’t jammed. There was no reason for the Kuliks to expect him to have this kind of tech, and jammers would mess with their own surveillance, so he had reason to believe this would work for initial reconnaissance.

When he returned from this trip, he’d have a long report to file with NSWC, including a list of all the people he interacted with. The fact that he was in the house of, and about to meet, an oligarch who once had—and might even still have—the Russian president’s ear was…significant, to say the least.

But he was on an off-the-books assignment that Little Creek brass had signed off on. He was glad Freya would have a digital record and was compiling notes on dates and times he met with everyone. The report would be a beast, but he’d have the necessary documentation and not just to cover his ass. Fresh intel was exactly what the US military needed when it came to Russia.

Kira did a slow circuit of the room. Rand watched her, giving her space as she ran her fingers over sculptures and vases. He had no doubt each piece was an original work of art and not something picked up from Etsy, Historie, or World Market.

Her touch was gentle. Reverent.

She did like touching art when she could, and he smiled remembering how she’d used that same reverent touch on his body. Kira was it for him. He’d known it months ago, but the reality of being with her was even better than he’d imagined.

She frowned as she touched one object—an artifact from the Middle East that looked similar to one of the items that had been recovered by Diana in her work for Friday Morning Valkyries last fall. He wondered if the frown was at the reminder of her abduction, the likelihood the artifact had been looted, or something else.

He approached her and studied the object—a small clay tripod bowl—and asked in a quiet voice, “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve seen this before.”

“In one of the listings for looted art and artifacts? Was it something your father might have been searching for?” That would make sense. It was also the supposed link between her father and the oligarch.

“No. I’ve seen it here. In this room. I—I think I broke it. When I was a child.”

She then picked it up and turned it over, studying the stubby legs. She let out a slow breath then held it up to him so he could see the small crack where the leg had been reattached with glue.

Chapter Thirty-Four