Chapter 18
Somewhere en route to Moldova, one week ago…
Katya
The cabin lights were low, humming softly above us, the jet slicing smoothly through the sky like nothing existed outside its pressurized world.
Andrei still had his arms wrapped around me. One arm lay under my shoulders, the other draped lazily across my waist. I rested my cheek against his chest, still catching my breath.
“You were right,” he murmured into my hair.
I didn’t lift my head. “About what?”
“Revenant.” His fingers traced a lazy, absent-minded pattern on my hip. “Something’s off. I’ve been thinking about it since I got that call.”
I closed my eyes, letting the vibration of his voice settle through me. “Because they didn’t want me there?”
“Because they’re hiding something,” he corrected. “And not just from you.”
I shifted a little, enough to look at him. “So how are we handling the fact that this ‘client group’ thinks only one person is coming? We can’t exactly walk in with a surprise extra body.”
He grinned like he’d been waiting for the question. “We’re not.”
I blinked. “Meaning?”
“I already called them and told them two people were coming,” he explained.
My fingers stilled on his chest. “What?”
He shrugged a shoulder, smug. “I adjusted the terms before we took off. Told them my second would attend.”
“Your second,” I repeated, a laugh slipping out. “And they agreed?”
“They didn’t know enough to argue.” He ran a hand through his hair, messy from everything that we had just done.
I stared at him, realizing that while I had been lying awake in the Dragunov estate plotting how to stow away on this plane, he had already reshaped the mission parameters with a single phone call.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” I asked softly.
“Because,” he said, fingers sliding along my spine in a slow, reassuring line, “I saw you when I told you that Revenant said you weren’t invited. The way you went quiet. The way you started watching me like you expected me to put a knife in your back.”
My throat tightened.
He continued, voice gentler now. “I knew you weren’t going to sit still. So I didn’t bother telling you to stay put.”
I frowned faintly. “Why didn’t you stop me from sneaking on the plane?”
He smirked, eyes glinting with that dark, teasing heat that had made me melt earlier. “I figured you’d try. And I figured the only way to keep you safe was to let you do what you were going to do anyway.”
“That’s terrible logic,” I murmured.
“That’s Dragunov logic,” he countered.
I huffed a soft, tired laugh and rested my head back against him. My whole body was warm, and entirely too content in a way I didn’t trust yet. He shifted just a little, tightening his arm around me until I felt wrapped, contained, and well and truly claimed.
He dipped his head to brush his lips against my temple. “I knew you needed me,” he said. “That’s why.”
Something squeezed in my chest.
Not because it was romantic.
Because it was true.
I tucked myself under his chin, letting the steady thrum of his heartbeat ground me.
He rested his cheek against my hair and breathed me in, and for a long, quiet moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, voice barely audible over the engines, “I’m glad you’re here.”
I closed my eyes.
“Me too,” I whispered back.
The soft chime of the cabin lights jolted me awake.
For a second, I didn’t know where I was, only that the air around me felt warm and safe. Then the arm around my waist tightened just slightly, and I remembered.
Andrei.
The plane.
And my seriously questionable life choices.
He was already awake, watching me with that quiet intensity that made trouble feel inevitable.
“We’re landing soon,” he murmured, hand dragging lazily up the curve of my waist. “You need to get dressed.”
“You tore my shirt,” I reminded him.
His smirk was unapologetic. “I did, didn’t I? I’d do it again too.”
I shoved him lightly in the chest. He didn’t budge. “Can I get up?”
“I’ll allow it.” He reclined back, arms behind his head like he’d just conquered a small nation while I rolled my eyes at him, trying not to let my mind dwell on how sore I was.
I climbed out from under him and went to my go-bag near the galley. My muscles protested—Andrei Dragunov had not been gentle with me—but I ignored the warmth crawling up my neck.
I dug through the bag until I found a black fitted tee. I pulled it on with quick movements and then yanked on my panties and my black pants.
Behind me, Andrei was dressing too, slipping into a tailored black button-down and a pair of dark trousers.
He watched me as he fastened his cuffs. “You good?”
“I’m always good,” I blushed.
He stepped closer, tilted my chin up with two fingers, and kissed me with the sort of infuriating awareness that made my knees soften. When he pulled back, his mouth curved just slightly.
“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.
“So are you.”
We both pretended that wasn’t a problem.
The jet descended through thick gray clouds, the outline of Moldova appearing below in muted shapes.
The runway sat on the outskirts of a small city, carved into a sprawling private estate.
The tarmac was cracked in places. The hangars were reinforced steel.
There wasn’t any signage. Nothing telling us what we were walking into.
That should have been our first warning.
We left the bedroom and took our seats as the plane descended. Then the jet touched down with a soft thud, the tires skidding briefly before stabilizing. We taxied toward an isolated hangar at the far end of the property.
We got out of our seats and Andrei stood beside me as the engines whined lower. “Stay close,” he cautioned.
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
“I know.” His fingers brushed my knuckles. “I’m saying it anyway.”
The door hissed open. Cool Moldovan air rushed in, nipping at my skin that had been bathed in desert heat a few hours ago. The ramp lowered, and Andrei descended first, me half a step behind.
Four men were waiting for us. They wore armored vests strapped over civilian jackets, heavy boots that didn’t match each other, and mismatched tactical gear that looked pilfered from a dozen different sources.
One had a shaved head, another was scruffy with a wild, barely managed beard.
A third wore tinted glasses that looked like they had been taped together.
The fourth, the tallest, was smiling a little too widely, almost like he’d been practicing it in a mirror.
I didn’t like the look of them and by the look on Andrei’s face, he didn’t like them either.