Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Fearghas crossed to the jacket he’d hung close to the stove and rummaged in the pocket, praying his dip in the canal hadn’t destroyed the satellite and cell phones. Both items were damp. He hadn’t noticed before that the satellite phone was a marine, waterproof model. He’d purchased the most water-resistant cell phone on the market, but water-resistant and waterproof were two different features.
He tried to turn on the cell phone and got no response. Fearghas laid the cell phone close to the stove, hoping the woodburning heat would dry it out enough that it would work. In the meantime, he switched on the satellite phone and placed a call to Dmytro, who was based in Zurich, Switzerland, the future home of Brotherhood Protectors International.
After leaving Greece with his wife and daughter, the man hadn’t had much time to establish himself in his new location. From what Fearghas had observed on his first encounters with the Ukrainian, Dmytro had a broad network of contacts he tapped into whenever he needed information or assistance—some more nefarious than others.
He entered the number Dmytro had given him and held the phone to his ear.
“ Anno! ” Dmytro answered. “Fearghas? Is that you?” he said in a thick accent. “Did you find the woman?”
Fearghas lips curled in a smile. “She found me.”
“ Dobre . Good,” Dmytro said. “She is well?”
“She is.” Fearghas’s gaze went to the woman they were discussing. “We need help locating a man.”
“What kind of man, my friend?” Dmytro asked.
“MI6 agent Peter Atkins.”
Dmytro grunted. “MI6, you say?”
“Yes.” Fearghas filled Dmytro in on what had occurred since he’d left him in Zurich and their need to find Atkins and the disk.
“I will ask around,” Dmytro said. “You will call if you need backup, yes?”
“Yes,” Fearghas answered. He could have used that backup when he’d been accosted on the MX3D bridge. Thankfully, Catya had arrived in time. “I’ll be sure to call. For now, we need any information you can find about Atkins or the disk.”
He ended the call and placed another call, this time to one of his old SAS counterparts, Martin Reedy.
His friend answered on the third ring. “You best not be a telemarketer callin’ me at this hour.”
“Martin, it’s Fearghas Gordon.”
“Fearghas, you ol’ bastard,” Martin said. “What the bloody hell have ya been up to since you bailed on us?”
Martin knew Fearghas hadn’t bailed on them so much as had been driven out of SAS, taking the fall for the explosion at the Roxburgh Mansion.
Fearghas didn’t call him out on his words. “I be needin’ a wee bit of help if ya can do it.”
“Anything for you, Fearghas,” Martin said. “We miss your ugly face and that bloody Scottish brogue. Whatcha got?”
“Are you still working with MI6 on cross-agency efforts?” Fearghas asked.
“I am. They’ve been after me to jump ship and join them full-time. I’m not sure I want to leave my SAS home.”
“If you have any access or pull with them, I need to know where I can find MI6 agent Peter Atkins,” Fearghas said. “Anything you can get about his life, family, places he goes, vacation homes will help.”
“I don’t know what access I have or if I can tap into their system. Why do you need this information? What’s this man, Atkins, to you? Has he gone rogue or something?”
“Something like that,” Fearghas said. “I need to get in touch with him. Ask a few questions.”
“I’m not sure what I can access, but I’ll do what I can,” Martin said.
“Be careful,” Fearghas warned. “What he’s gotten himself into is dangerous. Don’t talk to anyone about him, or it could get you in trouble as well.”
“What kind of trouble?” Martin asked.
“That’s what I need to find out from Atkins,” Fearghas paused. “Know this...some believe what he knows is worth killing for.”
“Understood,” Martin said. “How will I contact you?”
“I’ll check with you tomorrow,” Fearghas said. “Thanks, Martin.”
“Anything for you, Fearghas. You might be the last of the good guys. I still can’t believe you’re no longer with the SAS. We miss you around here. I hope you’ve landed well.”
“I have. Be safe, my friend.”
“And you,” Martin said and ended the call.
Fearghas set the satellite phone close to the stove to dry any lingering moisture and turned to Catya.
She sat facing the monitor, her eyes closed, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.
Fearghas went to her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “You need to rest.” He gently massaged the knotted muscles in her neck and shoulders. “You’ve been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours.” The explosion alone had to have done some damage.
“I can’t rest.” Despite her words, she leaned back into his hands, letting her head tip forward, giving him full access to her shoulders and neck muscles.
She’d always liked it when he’d massaged her like that, practically purring when he had.
Catya moaned. “If you had seen Gia’s face before she died...” She shook her head. “She knew what was on that disk but didn’t have time to tell me before her wounds claimed her.”
She stiffened beneath his fingers. “I need to contact my MI6 handler. I need to know why they sent me in to kill her and if he knew about the disk.”
“I would have thought you’d have contacted him by now.” Fearghas didn’t stop massaging, and she didn’t tell him to stop.
“I tried as soon as I got a new phone,” Catya said. “He isn’t responding to my calls or texts.”
“Who is your handler in MI6?” Fearghas asked.
“Walter Sykes,” she answered.
“If you can’t get him to respond, can you contact anyone else?”
Catya shook her head. “He’s been my handler since the Federal Security Service loaned me to the MI6 on high-profile cases. The jobs involved heinous individuals committing crimes against humanity in areas of mutual interest. They shared information, which is unheard of between the Brits and the Russians. They agreed to bring in the best to handle the situation.”
“You,” Fearghas stated.
Catya nodded. “Once MI6 had my number, they continued to task me, especially after I left the FSB. You know the reason why I left.”
He did.
Catya had confided the reason for her separation from the FSB, one of the successor agencies for the former KGB responsible for antiterrorism and counterintelligence.
Not long ago, she’d been handed the dossier of a target she’d be assigned to eliminate. As was her habit, she’d researched the target on the internet to ascertain the transgressions that deemed him deserving of elimination.
The man was a Russian environmental engineer and scientist. He’d made the mistake of raising global concern about the destruction of an island nation off the coast of Africa. His announcement to the world got him crossways with a Russian Oligarch’s grab for the island’s resources out of pure corporate greed.
Catya’s parents had already retired from the FSB and had started a new life after changing their names and moving out of Russia.
Catya had left her homeland on the pretext of carrying out her mission to assassinate the scientist. Instead, she’d kidnapped the scientist on the boat he’d chartered to get back and forth from the island to the mainland. She’d told him of the plot to have him killed and had given him two choices.
He could die that day on the boat in a fiery explosion and become a martyr to his cause, or he could jump into the water with Catya. The vessel would explode in a few short minutes either way.
The scientist chose to jump. Catya had a fishing boat pick them up and take them back to the mainland, where she’d arranged for a vehicle to take them to a safe house.
Afterward, she’d cut off all contact with the FSB, faking her own death in the boat explosion. Using her contacts, she’d created a new identity for the man and shipped him across the Atlantic to an island in the Caribbean.
After the scientist’s family had grieved his loss for several months, Catya had the scientist’s wife and small child smuggled out of Russia. The family had reunited on that sunny island where they were free to live their lives under new identities.
Fearghas had loved everything about the story. It proved what he’d already known. Yes, she was a killer, but she had a heart. She’d sacrificed her career in the FSB—and her own safety—to do the right thing for a stranger who’d wanted to protect an island nation.
Catya stared at the monitor, clicking buttons, bringing up different websites and sending messages until she sighed and leaned back against Fearghas’s belly. “I’m getting nowhere. At this rate, it might be easier to put boots on the ground and comb the streets on foot.”
“If we knew what streets to comb.” Fearghas’s hands moved up her neck and into her hair, pulling free the elastic band that secured her ink-back hair in its braid. The long tresses fell like silk around her shoulders.
Fearghas slipped his fingers through the strands and pressed the tips against her head, massaging her scalp in a slow, circulating motion.
Catya moaned, the sound more of a purr. “I missed this.”
He bit down on the urge to remind her that she wouldn’t have missed his touch if she’d stayed. That she’d called to warn him of the danger said a lot. Catya cared about him.
How much she cared, he wasn’t sure. He’d take any time he could get with her, even if only as a friend.
She closed her eyes, letting her hands drop to her lap.
“You should rest,” he said.
“I am resting.”
“I mean sleep.”
“I can’t sleep,” she said. “When I close my eyes, I see Gia Rosolino’s face. The woman was terrified of that disk landing in the wrong hands.”
Fearghas slid his fingers to her temples and rubbed gently. “When was the last time you slept?”
“It’s been a day and a half. I’ve operated on less sleep.”
“Less sleep and an explosion that might have given you a concussion?” He shook his head and bent to press his lips to her forehead. “Sleep for at least a few hours. We don’t know what our day will bring. You’ll need energy to get through it. I’ll stay awake and let you know if anything comes through.”
She opened her eyes. “What about you? You need rest.”
“I wasn’t in an explosion,” he said.
“You almost drowned,” she reminded him.
“I had it all under control for the moment,” he said with a twist of his lips. “Until a beautiful assassin yanked me out of the water.”
Her brow wrinkled, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. I’ll lie down for a few minutes. But only a few.” She stared up at him, a frown pulling her brow low. “Something has to come through soon.”
“It will,” he assured her.
She straightened, unplugged her laptop from the docking station and stood.
They moved the chairs back to the table.
Catya laid the laptop on the table and brought up the screen she’d been monitoring. “If anything comes up in my messages, wake me.”
He dipped his head. “ Aye, mo ghràdh .” He helped her bring the bed down from the wall.
For an awkward moment, they stood beside the bed.
Catya’s gaze met his, a frown wrinkling her brow. “I knew you’d be in danger. That’s why I didn’t want you to come.”
He pulled her into his arms. “I know.” He kissed the top of her hair. “I’m glad you called. I want to help.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. “You could have died tonight,” she whispered.
“But I didn’t, thanks to you.” He tipped her chin up and brushed his lips across her forehead. “You almost died in that explosion and with those men trying to shoot you down from the rooftops.”
“But I didn’t.” Her lips pressed together. “I couldn’t.”
She didn’t have to say it, but he knew. She’d promised a dying woman to get that disk into safe hands. She wouldn’t die without giving it her best shot.
“I didn’t want my career and life choices to harm you.” Her lips twisted. “I thought that if I stayed away, my troubles wouldn’t find you.” Her eyes filled. “But when I saw what they did to my parents...” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I had to warn you,” she said, choking on her words.
Fearghas cupped her cheeks and brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “I’m glad you did.”
“Me, too.” She let out a short laugh. “Instead of wondering if you’re all right, I’ll know. I can keep an eye on you and watch your back.” Catya stared up at him, her eyes shiny with tears, her luscious lips parted slightly.
“And I’ll have your back,” he murmured. Unable to resist a second longer, he lowered his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss that started slow and tenuous. He didn’t want to take what she wasn’t willing to give.
Her hands slid up his chest and wound behind his neck, bringing him closer. The kiss changed from slow and tentative to fiery and passionate.
She opened to him, her tongue meeting his in a hungry caress that left him breathless. Heat rushed through his body, reminding him of the nights they’d spent in each other’s arms. In Moscow when he’d first met her, then in Athens when he’d begun to believe they could have a life together. He hadn’t been able to imagine living without her.
Until she’d disappeared.
Though his blood rushed through him, urging him to take the kiss to the next level, he raised his head and stared down at her. “You need rest.”
She shook her head. “I need you.” Catya rose on her toes and kissed him again, her hands sliding down his chest and lower to the hem of the sweatshirt.
With every ounce of control he could muster, he broke the kiss, gripped her arms and set her at arm’s length. “I didn’t come just to make love to you.”
“I know,” she said. “But, since you’re here...” Her hand slid beneath the shirt and pressed against his skin.
“You need to rest,” he insisted, his control slipping.
“I’m too keyed up.” Her fingers moved lower, gripped the zipper of the trousers and slid it downward. “I need the release only you can give me,” she whispered.
When she took him in her hands, all control vanished.
Back in her arms was where he’d wanted to be from the time she’d walked out of his life to the moment he’d heard her voice on the phone. And every moment for the rest of his life. If that meant he’d have a shorter life, he’d take his chances.
Catya had spent the past months trying to forget how good it had felt to be with Fearghas, wrapped securely in his embrace.
In his arms, she could almost forget how many monsters she’d killed and the number of people who wanted her dead because she’d killed.
With him, she was someone who could be loved and cherished—a hot-blooded woman with needs and desires, not a cold-blooded killer.
When Fearghas touched her, her pulse beat faster, her core heated and she burned with an all-consuming passion. She could get lost in him and forget the world around her.
The image of him falling from the bridge replayed in her mind, stealing her breath away.
She’d walked away from him, but he’d always been in her thoughts, though he’d remained safe in Athens.
Now he was here, holding her like he might never let go. She didn’t want him to let go.
He’d almost died that night.
She had to get closer, feel his skin against hers and know they were still alive. This moment was real, not a product of her imagination.
Catya tore at his clothes, desperate to be free of anything between them.
He took over and shed what was left while she struggled with her boots.
Once naked, he bent, brushed her hands aside and untied the laces she’d managed to knot, easing the boots from her feet and the socks beneath. He rose and helped her out of her trousers and then lifted her shirt up and over her head, his eyes flaring when he realized she hadn’t worn a bra.
Heat built low in her belly, coiling at her core. For a long moment, she feasted her hungry gaze on this man who’d shown her the real woman inside herself.
Fearghas deserved better. A life free of the danger she brought to his doorstep. A woman to bear his children, to stand alongside him and build a family. Not a killer with a past that haunted her.
If she couldn’t be with him forever, she wouldn’t deny herself the moments they had in her little apartment beneath the stairs.
Fearghas gathered her closer, his hands sliding down to her hips, pulling her against him. The hard confirmation of his desire nudged her belly, making her ache to have him inside her.
He slid his hands lower, cupped her ass and lifted.
Catya wrapped her legs around his waist and eased downward until his tip nudged her entrance.
Fearghas shook his head. “ Nae , darlin’. Tis such a thing as foreplay, less you’ve forgotten.”
“Foreplay be damned,” she murmured, her body on fire, ready for him to claim her.
He chuckled, his hands gripping her buttocks, delaying his entrance. He turned, sat her on the edge of the bed and stepped between her knees. “I dinnae ken when we’ll have this chance again. I intend to do it right.” He leaned over her, cradled the back of her head in his hand and kissed her, long and hard, sweeping her tongue with his until breathing didn’t matter.
Then he sank to his knees on the cold stone floor and kissed a path from the inside of her calf up to the apex of her thighs. He took his time, the trek slow and deliberate, until she wanted to scream with frustration at her pent-up desire. As her core burned, her channel creamed, ready to take him.
Fearghas parted her folds and blew a stream of warm air over her clit, making it tingle in anticipation. Her body knew his. He knew what to do to make her burst into a million shiny pieces.
The first scrape of his tongue across that tender nubbin of flesh made her gasp. Her knees clamped around his ears.
He chuckled, his warm breath tantalizingly close. When he tapped her there again, she reached for his head. She wove her fingers into his hair, her grip pulsing to the beat of her heart as she urged him to do it again.
Fearghas flicked his tongue across her clit as he slid a finger into her sex, swirling around. He swirled his tongue in the same rhythm.
Catya fell back against the mattress, her back arching with each stroke. He played her body like a master, raising the heat, tightening her senses to a fevered pitch until she reached her crescendo. She froze, consumed by the intensity of her release, riding wave after wave of sensations until she collapsed against the sheets. As amazing as her orgasm was, it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
Catya scooted back in the bed, let her knees fall to the sides and waited for Fearghas to climb over her.
He hesitated with a frown. “You need rest.”
“I need you.” She hooked his arms and practically dragged him onto the bed.
He settled his knees between her legs and leaned on his arms over her. “I’ll never tire of making love with you , mo ghràdh .”
“Nor will I tire of you,” she whispered.
Fearghas pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance, dipped in to moisten it and pulled back out.
Beyond patience, Catya gripped his naked ass and brought him home.
He drove deep, stretching her channel with his girth, filling that empty space only he could touch, physically and emotionally.
When she was with him, she was in the only place she’d ever thought of as home.
He moved in and out, slowly at first, then increasing in speed and intensity.
As Catya climbed toward a second orgasm, she committed the moments to memory, knowing she’d be foolish to think she could stay with him forever. How she wished she could.
The man needed a normal life where he didn’t have to look over his shoulder every second of every day. She couldn’t give him that.
He moved faster, pumping harder, his body tensing.
The ripple of electricity started at her core and built until it shot out to every part of her body.
At the exact moment, Fearghas thrust once more and then jerked free, coming across her belly.
Only then did she realize they hadn’t used protection. Too caught up in the moment, she’d forgotten how important it was.
Thankfully, Fearghas hadn’t.
As they came back to reality, a tiny corner of her mind wondered what it would be like to carry a child in her womb. Not just any child. A miniature of the Scotsman. A mischievous boy or strong-willed girl who would have his fiery red hair and green eyes.
Fearghas rose, found a clean cloth, soaked it and wrung out the excess moisture. He returned to her and cleaned her belly and her sex, finally wiping the come from his stiff cock. He rinsed the cloth and hung it to dry beside the stove.
Catya couldn’t look away. His form was strong, fit and sexy as hell, but it was his concern for her well-being and the care he demonstrated when he took her in his arms that made her love him.
Throughout her life, she’d shied away from committing her heart to anyone. Her parents had drilled into her head that loving someone could be seen as a weakness. Yet, they’d been together for years. And they’d died together.
How had they managed to make their dangerous lives work together? She’d told herself they were an anomaly. Every other spy she’d known moved in and out of relationships. Or their loved ones had been picked off in retaliation for something they’d done.
Catya pulled the sheets and blanket over her naked body. She could never forgive herself if someone hurt Fearghas to get back at her.
Her breath caught in her lungs as realization hit her square in the gut. She’d broken the number one rule she’d promised herself when she’d chosen to become an assassin.
Never. Fall. In. Love.
As she stared across the floor at Fearghas, she couldn’t lie to herself anymore.
She loved this man.
That love could cost him his life.