After taking a photo of his ID, Rand dropped the wallet and said, “I suggest going back to Russia, ’cause I don’t think your boss is going to be too pleased with your performance today.”
He glared at Rand, his eyes burning with hate bred by humiliation.
Kira understood the burn. Rand hadn’t even pulled his gun. He’d acted as if he knew what was going to happen with psychic powers. But given Rand’s training and experience, and the likelihood the younger man lacked both, she figured Rand had read the Russian’s body language and there wasn’t anything paranormal about it.
Rand handed Kira their newly acquired gun. She slipped it into her crossbody purse, glad it was small enough that the zipper still closed. She wished she’d thought to pack a holster like Rand had and wondered what Amazon’s delivery time would be to Malta. She was a Prime member, after all.
Armed with the address of their destination, Rand used paracord to bind the man to the bench to keep him from chasing after them. It was lucky there was no one in the treed garden across from the main Mdina gate right then. Taking no chances, Rand was fast with his knot tying, and the Russian was bound in a flash.
They set off, leaving the blessed shade and crossed the street in front of the gate. They hopped on the first bus that passed a moment later. Rand tapped his credit card twice, and they were off on the crowded conveyance. Even if the young man tried to follow, there was no way he’d choose to cause a scene in front of so many witnesses. He was already a walking failure. That would seal the deal.
They hopped off the bus a mile away, then crossed the town of Rabat on foot to where Rand had parked the rental car hours before.
“I’m sure the kid will have found a way to call his bosses and warn them we’re coming by now.”
Rand had left the Russian’s phone on the bus, which was on its way to St. Paul’s Bay, if Kira had read the signs correctly. “Do we go straight to the address, or go back to the apartment?”
“Let’s see what Freya can tell us about the address.”
Freya—who Kira figured hadn’t slept in days—said the address was a restaurant near Popeye Village, which was the set for the 1980 movie Popeye, starring Robin Williams and Shelley Duvall.
“Kid played us,” Rand said.
“Sounds like it. Okay. Go to Valletta and check out the hotel? See if fake Andre is still there? It would be the ideal location if they want to send me another message.” The hotel had a major disadvantage over the apartment. It wouldn’t be safe. They couldn’t relax. No making love. No sleep. “Or we can return the apartment, where I can relax and finish this really good book I’m reading.”
Rand smiled. “As much as I love that idea, we need to play offense while we’ve got the ball. We have the address for Luka Kulik’s estate. I say we pop in and say howdy.”
She wanted to take a break from this chaos train but knew he was right. This was her quest, after all. It was time to make a move into enemy territory.
The gated estate was every bit as lavish as one would expect from a Russian oligarch who’d owned it since before oligarchs even existed and the Soviet Union was the big red threat in the east. Or in this case, northeast.
But as the car took the winding road up the hill to the gated estate, Kira was left breathless and speechless with every turn. Her face flushed and her stomach fluttered as each twist in the driveway triggered an aching sense of familiarity.
She knew the pale brownish-gray limestone wall that secured the property. Some part of her mind recognized the archway that capped the vertical iron-barred gate. Beyond the bars, the fountain was as eerily familiar as her mother’s sad smile.
She gripped Rand’s hand as they approached the small stone security booth. Before their car came to a complete stop, the iron bars swung wide and the guard inside the booth waved them through.
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.
