Freya let out a soft shriek. “I knew it. He’s head over heels for you. Has been since December.”
“I hardly think that’s the case, but he’s made his interest clear.”
“Kira, I’ve known the man for more than six years. He dated Staci. He’s brought other dates to get-togethers. And he’s different with you.”
The fluttery feeling when she thought about Rand was back. “Well then, we’ll put him on the agenda when we talk.”
“I can’t tell you about the classified ops, but Morgan can share things that I can’t.”
“Fine. After you and I talk about Apollo, we’ll open a bottle of wine and invite Morgan over for a girls’ night.”
“She’ll be thrilled.”
Warmth settled in Kira’s belly. She very much wanted to be part of Morgan and Freya’s inner circle. Not because she wanted to be a Valkyrie, but because she’d realized exactly how lonely she was in the months since her father’s stroke and passing.
She didn’t need to fear Staci. Or Freya. Or even Apollo’s ghost.
“Okay. So why did you call Rand?”
“I’m afraid your Cousin Andre—the real one—has been found.”
“Afraid?”
“His body was found. By a cadaver dog. He was buried in his own backyard.”
Kira sucked in a sharp breath, the brief emotional catharsis wiped away by the stark news. “When do they think he was killed?”
“I don’t have any information from the medical examiner—or whatever they call them in Germany—as they just found the body today, but it’s a good bet it was months ago. The last time anyone remembers seeing him was late January. He lived alone and worked from home—he had a web-based consulting business, and he sent out a bunch of emails that he was taking a three-month-long cruise at the end of February. It wasn’t until sometime in May when clients and friends began to worry. But the cruise line did have a passenger by that name, and his passport was scanned at several ports. He sent emails from his regular account. His phone had a legitimate ping trail. My guess is he was killed at the end of January, and whoever killed him had a lot of money to maintain the fiction that he was alive for so long.”
A sound at the door told her Rand had returned. She’d been pacing the empty room as she talked, and now she paused in front of the window and stared across the harbor toward the night lights of Fort St. Angelo and Birgu.
The door opened. She turned toward the hall, but from this angle, Rand was out of sight as he latched the door.
“I learned something from Kulik when I had drinks with him tonight. I don’t know how reliable he is, but he said the man who posed as Cousin Andre was my father’s FSB handler.”
Footsteps sounded, and the man she knew only as Cousin Andre entered the room. “Reuben Kulik was correct.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
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.
