Page 110 of Smoke and Shadows

The blast shook the ground. Small pieces of debris flew past him, and the shockwave ruffled the air around him. He paused to look back at the inferno. It was done. Stuart Kwon was dead.

A car pulled up in front of him. In the driver’s seat wasErik Costa, who had become a good friend of the McCords after the daring rescue of Maia and some Guardians. He’d always been a freedom fighter, and when he found out what had happened to Maia, he offered his assistance and his extensive Russian network in any way needed. That was how they were able to get the jump on Kwon’s security team.

“Another POS down, huh?” Erik said as Jack got into the passenger seat. Erik turned the car to head out of Moscow to a private airfield where a chartered plane was waiting for Jack. When they were at a respectable distance from the explosion, Erik handed him his phone.

“Call her. She’s worried.”

She answered on the first ring.

“Jack?”

“It’s done, babe.”

“Good. Come home.”

“On my way.”

Ending the call, Jack finally felt the release of the vestiges of the darkness that had lingered since the whole incident started.

The desire to protect Maia was there at every turn.

It would never go away.

Four weekslater

Marissa linedher suitcases in the living room and looked around her row house wistfully. She was going to miss this place, at least for a while. She had buried herself in work, television, and tubs of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while she examined her discordant feelings regarding Viktor. She knew her way back to him was distancing herself from the source of her turmoil, which in this case, was also Viktor. She needed towork through her issues on her own to gain some perspective and bearing. He took a choice away from her, but this was Viktor—the forceful, overly dominant man who loved her. And she loved him for being who he was. And when Marissa finally wrapped her mind around his mortality, she managed to climb out of her emotional quagmire. He was just a man, he wasn’t invincible. Oh, she was still conflicted, but hating him for etching that horrific picture of him dying in her brain, slowly diminished with the almost daily reports of his recovery.

Before she had disappeared from his life, she had talked to Maia, making the Guardian promise to let her know how Viktor was coping. After two weeks, Maia had grumbled that Marissa better come back soon because now that Viktor had regained his voice, he’d been cutting and bullying everyone around him.

And Marissa promised. But what she didn’t anticipate was that as one week rolled into another, her courage to face Viktor started crumbling. He saved her life and she left him. It was surprising no one despised her. However, Maia assured her if she didn’t pull her head out of her ass soon, the redhead was going to come over and kick her in the butt.

So Marissa did the one thing she was good at: running. She had accepted a six-month assignment in Morocco. Even Yeager didn’t want to sign off on it, but he finally gave in, thinking that she truly needed to get away from it all. Allison was furious at her, but she would still be her analyst. And there was that fallout from Kwon’s assassination. The agency had been under investigation for allegations of taking an unsanctioned hit on a Russian citizen. In the end, there was no proof and it was deemed an internal Russian problem with organized crime. From a political standpoint, it would be best if the team lead on Kwon’s case—her—removed herself from the crosshairs of the Senate Oversight Committee. That had been her excuse for taking the Morocco mission, althoughYeager, not one to play politics, would have defended her against the suits in Washington.

There was a rap on the door. Her taxi was a few minutes early. And did no one use the doorbell anymore?

Looking through the peep hole, all the blood left her face. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the locks and opened the door.

Viktor stood before her. A bit thinner, but still larger than life.

“What are you doing here?” she squeaked.

“Is that how you greet the man who saved your life?”

There was cold sarcasm in his voice. She flinched. Emotions of guilt and indignation churned in her gut.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

Still not uttering a word, Marissa stepped aside. Viktor briskly walked past her and stood in the middle of her living room, scowling at the suitcases.

“I don’t have much time to talk,” Marissa said after she finally found her voice.

“Leaving for Morocco, I hear.”

“Yeager told you?”

“Who else?”

Marissa decided to change the subject. “How are you doing, Viktor? How’s therapy?”

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