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
She’d known the moment she walked into the room that she’d been there before, but at the same time, she thought the wainscoting might have been painted and the furniture replaced. But the art…several pieces were oh, so familiar.
Old friends, even.
All at once, she remembered a hidden door. Not perfectly hidden, but disguised by the chair rail moulding and the lines of the wallpaper. She turned for the section of wall and spotted it. Her fingers found the moulding that capped the wainscoting four feet above the floor, remembering how it felt to reach up to touch the hidden latch above her head.
She pressed the release and the door opened, swinging toward her.
“Whoa.” Rand stood just behind her.
She pulled the panel wide and stepped forward, but Rand stayed her with a hand on her hip. “I go first.”
He pulled his gun from the holster at the small of his back and entered, keeping the barrel pointed at the floor. Cautious, but not aggressive.
Although pulling a gun when one was a guest in an oligarch’s home and entering a hidden corridor would probably be considered aggressive.
She followed on his heels, unwilling to wait for him to clear the corridor first. They’d agreed they’d stick together, no matter what. That included entering secret chambers. Or, in this instance, secret hallways.
