Page 68 of Don't Look Back

“I guess if we find a second condom in the trash in the morning, we’ll both know for sure.”

He laughed. “I don’t want this to be a dream. If it’s a dream, I’ll wake up in my house in Virginia Beach, all alone and longing for you. I don’t want another day of that. I’ve had too many already.”

She settled in beside him again, loving the feel of his hand as he pulled her tight to his side. “Me too. Please let this be real.”

He kissed her nose, her neck, her cheeks, her lips. “It’s real, Kira. And this is just the beginning.”

Aloud noise pulled Kira from a deep sleep. She reached across the small bed for Rand and found the space empty, the sheets cold. She pried her eyes open. The morning light gave little hint as to time of day—she hadn’t been in Malta long enough to know the nuances of sunrise—but she thought it was early.

Too early for whatever was making that horrible racket. It was an alarm of some sort. Smoke? She shook her head, willing herself to make sense of the sound that threatened to split her head open.

Was it possible to have a sex hangover? If so, that really wasn’t fair.

But it wasn’t sex or even fire that had set off the evil smoke alarm, it was steam from the shower, which became apparent when Rand stepped out dripping wet to silence the alarm and apologize for waking her.

He was naked, so she forgave him. A dripping wet, naked Rand might be her most favorite sight to wake up to.

Rand returned to his shower, and when he was done, he made coffee while Kira took her turn in the shower. Clean and coffeed, they settled in the living room with their laptops to go through all the data Freya had gathered in the last two days.

“Do you think fake Andre is still in my hotel room?” Kira asked, as the information on him proved scant even with fingerprints and all the other biometric photos they’d taken.

“Doubt it. We can check later today, because I’d hate for housekeeping to get a nasty surprise, but even if no one came to collect him, he’s had enough time to untie the knots and escape.”

“I don’t love the idea of him being at large and not knowing about it.”

“If he’s alive, he’s likely long gone. Too many people are after him now that he screwed up with you. He was working for someone to get you here, but he must have messed up. Made promises he couldn’t keep. Has to be something like that given his panic yesterday at the garden.”

“I went to Birgu and picked up the letter. Who didn’t want me to receive it?”

“My money is on Reuben. The latest intel Freya sent has more information on the younger Kulik’s political goals. He doesn’t just want to join the current regime; he wants in at the highest level. In Russia, a deputy prime minister—finance, fuel, defense, what have you—is recommended by the prime minister to the president. If it became known that his father’s intelligence trading with your father included information on the current president, his shot at a government position is out. In fact, there’s likely an open tenth-floor window with both Kuliks’ names on it.”

“So why meet with me and tell me of the spying? I had no idea.”

“He didn’t know what fake Andre had told you, or if your father told you everything. He probably wanted a feel for your innocence in this. He might be the one who sent Andre to the hotel room to do his dirty work.”

“I’m not feeling great about going to the meeting point in Mdina.”

“Also probably part of his plan.”

“So you think his father wants to meet me, and he wants to stop it without his father knowing?”

“That’s my working theory. It’ll all be shot to hell, though, if Luka Kulik wasn’t your dad’s pen pal.”

Kira had watched enoughGame of Thronesto write off the eerie feeling she had as they approached the gate to Mdina as related to the show.

Like everything else in Malta, the walled former capital city was stunning. It wasn’t a replica or a movie set. It was the real deal with high-walled bastions, a ditch, gates, magazine curtain, and enceinte.

It was her third fort since arriving, and she’d been staying in a walled city, but Mdina was so different for being inland and entirely contained. According to tourist websites, 250 people lived within the walled city today.

They arrived early—more than an hour before the noon meeting—and Kira was thankful for the time to explore.

She and Rand held hands as they wandered through the narrow passageways of King’s Landing. They paused in the shade, refuge from the heat, and studied the map like any other tourist. Cold water was purchased more than once as the hour sweltered on.

For a few brief minutes, Kira enjoyed the feeling of being on vacation with a man she was falling for and imagined what it would be like if they ever took a real vacation together.

She knew he skied—he’d gone to Aspen for a week last December. Was that his ideal vacation—centered on a sport? She’d never gone skiing, but she’d try it for him.

Still, she wanted—needed—to travel, while his work sent him all over the world. Would he enjoy vacationing in the cities of Europe, or was he a beach person? She’d never been much into beaches, but the idea of lounging in the sun, enjoying fruity cocktails and swimming in tropical seas was a lot more appealing if he were with her.

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