Page 89 of Disguised as Love

My eyes journeyed to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure my right-hand man would ever understand what I was going to do. The career I was going to blow up. The questions that it would raise within the Bureau once I made myself a permanent fixture in her life, but I didn’t have another choice.

The threads wrapping me to her had tightened in a way that should have felt uncomfortable, that should have had me squirming and scrambling for an escape, and instead, all I wanted to do was draw them tighter. To fasten them so she’d never escape the knot on the other end. I no longer wanted to put away every asshole who was breaking the law. I only had one goal left: protect Raisa.

My mom’s voice was raised in the background, and I could hear her demanding to talk to me.

“Put her on,” I said to Nolan, completely ignoring the question that was still dangling between us. There was no way I could tell him that Petya Leskov was arranging our exfil. I didn’t know what Petya had in store for himself. There’d been a whole room of mafiya who’d seen him come back from the dead, but was that his plan? To just step back into the world alive and well? Or did he intend for everyone to continue thinking he was gone?

“You owe me some explanations,” Nolan said and then handed Mom the phone.

She came on, breathless and upset. “Cruz, are you okay? What is the meaning of all this? When are you coming home?” she asked all in a rushed voice.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” I told her. “It was just a precaution. I’m hoping you’ll be able to go home today. In the meantime, try not to give Nolan too bad of a time. He’s a good man.”

“Your cover was blown, I assume. Did you really think they were coming after us?” she asked with fear leaking into her voice, and I felt like shit for making it happen.

“Yes,” I told her the truth.

She inhaled sharply and then said, “I hate this.”

It reminded me so much of Raisa and all the things I knew she hated that it brought a twitch to my lips. My mother would love Raisa. They both had a similar fire raging through them. Passion for their work and the people they loved.

A lump emerged in my throat.

“I’m done,” I told Mom the truth. Even if I’d wanted to stay in the Bureau, I’d fucked things up so badly here in Russia I was pretty sure management would be showing me the door.

“What?” she said as if she hadn’t heard me.

“I’m done. Turning in the badge and the gun,” I said, and it was shitty timing that Raisa came out of the bathroom at the same time as the words emerged. Her hand on the towel rubbing her hair dry froze. Her eyes grew wide, and I just continued, “It’s no longer the life I want. I’ve found something better.”

Mom sighed softly, a smile in her voice that I could hear even without seeing her. “The woman. The woman I heard the other day? Oh, honey. This is…this is the best gift you could have ever given me.”

With a start, I realized the day. It was her birthday. I’d fucking gone to Russia, almost gotten myself and everyone with me killed, and I’d completely forgotten.

“When do I get to meet her?” Mom asked.

“Soon, I hope,” I said.

Raisa was still frozen, staring at me as if I’d just declared my love in front of a sold-out stadium.

“I gotta go, Mom, but I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“Please be safe. Be happy. Be loved,” she said quietly.

“I love you,” I told her instead of my normal, ‘Right back at you,’ response. “Happy birthday, Mom.”

She sniffled but didn’t respond. It was Nolan’s voice I heard next. “What the fuck is going on, Malone?”

“I’ll explain everything when I get back. Thanks for keeping my family safe. I owe you,” I told him with emotion he never heard from me filling my tone.

“Damn straight, but not for this. This was my job. You owe me for all the shit going down over there and all the strings I had to pull.”

I chuckled.

“Get back safe, asshole,” he said and hung up.

Raisa had moved. She’d thrown the towel on the bed and gone into the closet where she was stuffing things into a small bag. She glanced my way as I shoved the phone into my pocket.

“You’re giving up your career? For what?” she asked as she continued shoving things into the bag as fiercely as she had when we’d left the States. It was a twisted version of how we’d started.

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