Page 36 of Belgian Betrayal

“Suit yourself,” Lucie said.

Fearghas touched Catya’s arm. “You haven’t eaten the entire time since I arrived in Amsterdam.”

“Nor have you,” Catya said. “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are. Your body needs fuel.”

“We all need food,” Dmytro said. “I will cook.” He went to the refrigerator, opened the door and studied the contents. He pulled out vegetables, meat and cheese and set them on the counter in the kitchenette. “Have you learned to cook?” he asked Lucie.

“No,” she said. “But I knew you did, so I bought things I knew you used in your meals.” She glanced over her shoulder with a grin.

Dmytro cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. “I will make Borscht.”

Lucie shot a frown in his direction. “You cannot. I did not buy beets.”

The Ukrainian snorted. “I suppose you want Chicken Kyiv?”

Lucie graced him with a smile. “Yes, please.”

Dmytro glanced at Fearghas and Catya.

Fearghas held up his hands. “The best I can do is a baked potato.”

Dmytro nodded. “You can peel potatoes.” He turned to Catya.

“Do not look at me.” Catya shook her head. “I burn boiled water. I’m only good for coffee.”

“You can help me coat the chicken.” Dmytro lifted his chin in challenge.

Catya’s belly rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since she’d grabbed a panini in the Rome airport over twenty-four hours ago. If she wanted to eat, she must help. She sighed. At least helping would keep her busy while waiting for the assignation in Bruges.

Between the three of them, they had the meal prepared and cooked in less than an hour and a half.

When Dmytro pulled the chicken with its golden-brown crust from the oven, the scents made Catya’s knees weak. Her mouth watered as she helped Dmytro place a fat breast on each plate, drizzle a cream sauce over it and then add a fluffy scoop of the mashed potatoes Fearghas had cut, boiled and whipped next to the Chicken Kyiv.

Lucie moaned from her position in front of the monitors. “That smells so good.” She’d remained head down, working hard throughout the time it took to cook the meal. “Is it ready?”

“Yes. I will bring it to you.” Catya carried a plate to the girl, who was working so hard to get into the disk. She hadn’t taken a break, hadn’t stood to stretch, get a drink or use the bathroom in all that time.

Lucie accepted the plate, set it on the desk beside her and went back to tapping the keys on the keyboard, carrying on a digital discussion with someone online.

Catya’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you talking to?”

“Don’t worry,” Lucie said. “I’m asking about more techniques for cracking passwords. I haven’t said anything more than is necessary to get feedback and advice. While I wait for suggestions, I’m running a program that cycles through tens of thousands of potential passwords in seconds.”

Catya nodded, hoping the girl was on the level and telling the truth. Lives depended on it. “I watched the woman who had this disk die. I promised I would keep it safe and get it into the hands of people I trust.”

“Do you know who to trust?” the girl asked, possibly savvier about people than Catya had initially presumed.

“I haven’t trusted too many people for a long time,” Catya admitted.

Lucie cut a piece of the chicken and held it up on the fork. “I haven’t trusted many people as well. Not since the Russian FSB murdered my parents. I was an orphan at sixteen and preyed on by men—both Russian and Ukrainian. I was living on the streets of Kyiv.”

Catya’s heart pinched hard in her chest for the young girl who’d been thrown into a harsh world without anyone to help her navigate.

“Unbeknownst to me,” Lucie continued, “I was sold into the sex trade by a Russian. If not for Dmytro...” She shook her head. “He intercepted my transport to Russia, set me free and helped me get to Belgium with a new identity and a chance at a new life. He and his wife set me up here in Brussels and paid for my computer training and this apartment.”

Catya cast a glance toward Dmytro. The scarred giant was smiling at Fearghas as they sat at the table, eating the chicken the man had cooked for Lucie and everyone else.

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