Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Funny, how something that had started out as a little craft project during the best time of his life had become his therapy during the worst of times. Now he did it when he needed to clear the cobwebs—or anything else—from his brain.
He shook his head, still having a difficult time believing it was really Viktoria Petrova.
For about three seconds, he hadn’t recognized her.
Then he’d seen the shock and fear in her eyes.
She probably hadn’t known until today he was an FBI agent.
Finding out this way must have been a slap to the face.
Watching her during the meeting and not being able to explain had been difficult as hell.
He smoothed another fold in the dragon, realizing he’d been as shocked as she’d been. So many things about her were different now; so many things the same. Like when their hands touched, heat had seared him from the outside in. No one else in his life ever had that powerful effect on him.
She’d changed her last name and her hair color.
Both smart ideas. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been unnaturally thin.
Today, the purple skirt-and-jacket suit she’d worn emphasized her beautiful curves.
Her once thick, blond hair was now a rich coppery brown with shiny highlights.
Some things, however, could never be changed.
Her eyes were still a vivid cornflower-blue, and she still had that same ethereal elegance few women ever achieved.
She’d always been pretty but usually hid her face behind dark glasses and a mile-high wall of shyness.
Today, he’d been dumbstruck by her beauty and something else. This woman was different.
This woman was…empowered.
Ten years ago, he’d feared for her life.
Today, she’d been totally kick-ass, full of fire, and protecting her client like a lioness protecting her cub.
Now, aside from the emotional jolt of seeing him again she seemed capable of taking on the world.
That woman wouldn’t want anyone to know about her past, despite having come so far.
He always knew she could be so much more, but he never had the chance to stick around and find out.
Something he’d always regretted. There’d been no other choice.
For so many reasons he’d lost count, he couldn’t have stayed.
The first reason on that list was Yuri Petrov, Victoria’s ex-husband.
Victoria with a C—the way she’d spelled it on the background check documents he’d reviewed.
Kyle squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep inhale, letting the air whoosh slowly from his mouth as he put another fold in his origami. He’d never expected to see her again.
Yuri Petrov was the only reason he’d come into her life at all.
Like her, Yuri hadn’t known he’d been a federal agent.
After being arrested, he’d found out through his attorney and legal discovery.
Due to the ironclad evidence he’d compiled, Yuri’s attorney convinced him to plead guilty to avoid risking exposure to the maximum sentence a federal judge could impose.
For Victoria’s sake, he’d wanted Yuri put away for life.
If he’d managed to dig up evidence of Yuri and Nikolai Lebedev kidnapping and killing those missing Russians, he could have.
As it was, he’d nailed Semyon Novikov with the lengthiest sentence, followed by Yuri with ten years and Lebedev four.
That was another thing that pissed him off.
He knew damn well Lebedev ordered the murder that Boris Kolbayev—Lebedev’s first line brigadier—had carried out.
Like Yuri, Kolbayev hadn’t squealed on the boss and was about to take the full brunt of the federal legal system.
Somehow, Yuri and Lebedev kept skating free of the one charge that would land them in prison for life. Murder.
Lebedev wasn’t on trial, but convicting Kolbayev would leave him without his primary brigadier and put a serious chink in his operations. Eventually, Kolbayev would be replaced, and the cycle would repeat itself.
He put another fold in the dragon, wondering if all his efforts were a complete waste of time.
An angry snort came from the doorway. Kyle’s older brother, Jack, leaned against the door jamb, his powerful arms crossed, his lips pursed into a thoroughly pissed-off expression.
If Jack’s steel-gray eyes could shoot bolts of lightning, they would.
Deke stood next to him, his green eyes blazing like kryptonite, practically lasering through Kyle’s chest.
He abandoned his half-formed origami and sat back in the chair. All he wanted was to be left alone. Clearly, that wasn’t happening. This was an ambush.
Without waiting for an invitation, his brothers parked themselves in chairs on the other side of Kyle’s desk. They eyed the stack of origami paper, knowing that when he pulled it out something in his life had gone to hell.
Jack didn’t say a word, just continued glaring, the same as when they’d been kids and Kyle had done something to annoy his older brother.
It was an effect Jack had down to an art form.
Kyle had arrested some of the meanest criminals on the FBI’s Most Wanted list, but right now he was a little kid again, waiting for his brother to lay into him.
“You’re playing Russian roulette.” Jack’s voice was calm. His narrowing eyes told a different story. “You keep spinning that chamber, hoping one day there’ll be a round in it. One day, there will be.”
He knew that. Today had almost been the day.
Deke was normally the smiling, happy-go-lucky member of the Gates clan. Not today. His lips were tight, his overall demeanor as menacing as Jack’s. “How can you keep doing this to Ma? She worries enough about all of us as it is.”
He rubbed his forehead, trying unsuccessfully to ease the growing ache inside his skull.
Bringing up their mother was a low blow and about the only thing that could drag him back to reality.
“There was no way I was about to wait for backup or approval from some pencil-pusher who hasn’t seen the streets in years, if ever, before going into that bank. ”
“Knock it off. That’s not what this is about, and you know it.” Jack’s hard features softened. “We know what you went through when Diane died. We went through it with you. But that was twelve years ago. You gotta find a way to move on and let it go.”
Years ago, he had managed to let his wife go. But not the guilt. That would always be with him. Back then, he’d been wondering how many kids he’d have. Now he was thirty-seven, unmarried, and planning to stay that way.
“You can’t make up for what happened by constantly putting yourself in danger,” Jack continued. “It has to stop, and it has to stop now. If it doesn’t, I’ll recommend to Morrison that you get a complete psych eval.”
Kyle snorted in disgust, but the look on Jack’s face said he wasn’t kidding. “You’re not serious. Are you?”
“He is.” Deke leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “And I’ll back him up.”
“Ah, hell.” He shoved a hand through his hair. Ironically, he had just met with a shrink. Just not for him.
Jack sat back, re-crossing his arms. “If that’s what it takes to keep you alive, we will do it. Better you’re pissed off at us than dead.”
Now Kyle’s head pounded as if there was a hockey game going on behind his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. Not now. Not ever.
“Think of Ma,” Deke said. “Think of her standing over your grave, crying her eyes out because her son had a death wish.”
Jack released the armrests and flexed his fingers. “You’ve taken more risks and been in more shootings than anyone in this office. Sometimes I think you really want to die.”
“Do you?” Deke asked.
Did he? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Right now, all he could think about was Victoria.
He trusted his brothers but still hadn’t told them everything that happened in Chicago.
He respected Victoria’s privacy too much to tell them about her now.
Though he’d been a part of it, it was her story to tell.
Someone cleared their throat. Their boss, SAIC Mike Morrison, stood in the doorway. “Gentlemen.” He looked at Jack then Deke. “Please give us the room.”
Without another word, Jack and Deke stood. Before turning to leave, they both shot him meaningful looks that spoke volumes and made his gut tighten. If he didn’t get his act together, they’d follow through with their threat.
Mike stepped aside to let them leave and closed the door. He tipped his head to the desk. “What’s that one gonna be?”
“A dragon.”
“I don’t know how you do that with fingers big enough to pound nails.” He pushed from the door and sat in a chair.
Kyle grunted as he made another fold in the paper. The look on Mike’s face worried him. It was that aggravating, paternal expression that said he was about to get his ass chewed. In a nice, fatherly way.
Deep lines were etched into the older man’s forehead. “You okay?”
“Fine.” Here it comes.
“You didn’t make an appointment with the agency shrink, did you?”
“No,” he admitted. Jack and Deke’s threat aside, he still had to submit to the required post-shooting wellness check-in with a psychologist. God help the shrink that got bogged down in his fucked-up life.
“I already had to pull some very lengthy strings to keep you off admin leave because of the trial. So get to the doc’s office, and get it over with,” Mike said. “That’s an order. It’ll keep Washington off my ass, and I like it when they stay away from that part of my body.”
Kyle never took Mike’s threats seriously but knew enough to keep quiet and let his boss rant. Though he’d heard it all before, he resigned himself to what was coming. It was the same line every time he did something that made someone try to shoot him.