Page 75 of Dangerous Secrets

In a very real sense, Charity knew, Vassily was almost like another race of man. Stronger, brighter, tougher. A literary genius, a man of great vision. The kind of man who came along once in a generation. Shakespeare. Dante. Tolstoy. Humanity existed in order to produce men like this. They were rare and they were precious.

He picked up her hand and rubbed her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “Please,” he said softly, his voice shaking. “Please dine with me tonight. I need you. You cannot begin to imagine how much I need you.”

She’d never heard that tone of voice from him, ever. Vassily’s normal speaking voice was precise and cool, strong and deliberate. He had a natural arrogance that precluded pleading.

Her heart shied away at the thought, becoming a cold little fist in her chest. She’d give anything not to do this, but life sometimes simply tossed these challenges at you, like dice at your feet.

You either picked them up or you didn’t. You either dealt the hand life threw your way or you didn’t.

Charity liked to think that she’d met every challenge so far, no matter how difficult. She remembered that her father, who had volunteered for Vietnam right out of high school and who had never talked about his two tours of duty, always saiddo the hard thing.

She prepared herself to do the hard thing.

She tried another smile, had no idea how successful it was. Stomach churning, hoping she could keep the tea down, she gave the only possible answer to his plea.

“Yes, of course, Vassily. I would be honoured to dine with you tonight.”

Nick snatchedhis cell out of his pocket the instant it vibrated and crouch-walked to the back of the garage, where no one in the house could possibly hear him. He didn’t check caller ID. He knew who was calling.

He pulled at his earbud, where he’d been following what Worontzoff and Charity were saying.

“You fucking well better not be where I think you are,” Di Stefano’s furious voice lashed out at him.

Nick clenched his jaw and hunkered down, his back to the garage wall. He waited a couple of beats so he could get his voice under control. “Bingo.”

“Listen, fuckhead. I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but you are compromising the mission. That’s nothing new. You’ve been compromising the mission for days, but this is beyond your normal craziness. Fall back. Now.”

“No can do. Listen to me,” he whispered urgently. “Worontzoff’s here.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Here at Charity’s house. Right now. He’s been here for over half an hour. I, um, bugged the house here and before you blow up, you better thank me for it, because something is happening late this afternoon and he wants to celebrate it with Charity over dinner at his place.”

The thought drove him insane. He could conjure up with preternatural clarity Worontzoff’s expression the other night in his mansion, touching Charity and getting a hard-on. He could also conjure up, no prob, Worontzoff’s reaction when Charity refused him.

Worontzoff was a king in his world. Kings were used to being obeyed. Kings punished people who didn’t obey them.

“I’m going to tell her,” Nick said suddenly. It was the only thing he could think of to rescue her. Let it all come out. Once she knew the truth, no way would she hare off to his mansion.“Tell her who he is and that she can’t go to his house. He’ll have her killed.” The blood in his veins ran cold as he conjured up possible Worontzoff reactions. If he could have a proxy hang a prostitute up on a meat hook, what he would do to Charity didn’t bear thinking of. In his crazy mind, she was his long-lost love. Once Charity rebuffed him, his revenge would be swift and insanely cruel.

Of course, Nick would have to break cover twice to warn her off—he’d have to reveal his real identity and reveal the nature of the mission.

Men had died rather than break cover on a mission. Keeping the code was the closest thing to a religion Nick had. What Nick was doing was off the charts. He knew it, but was helpless to stop himself.

Big bad Iceman, so out of control he couldn’t travel more than thirty miles from this spot.

It was like being on a runaway train, headed for the gorge with the bridge out. He was known for his icy self-control, but right now, someone else in his head was handling the controls and levers in the engine room. “As soon as that fucker leaves, I’m going in.”

Di Stefano’s sharp indrawn breath sounded loud over the cell phone. “No way,” he growled. “You most definitely are not. Are you crazy? What the hell has happened to you? You’re going to toss this mission right down the toilet. As soon as Worontzoff figures out she knows something, it’ll all come crashing down.”

His voice sounded tinny, far away. Certainly too far away to change Nick’s mind. Yap yap yap. Nothing Di Stefano could say would affect his decision. The second he’d made it, it felt right. He had to go in and convince Charity not to go out tonight.

He could see it clearly—the divide, the fork in the road. He did one thing and this happened. Another and that happened.

He walked into Charity’s house right now, took her into protective custody, tucked her away in a safe house until they got the job done. Once Worontzoff was put away, he went back for her.

Oh yeah. She’d be pissed at being lied to, but bottom line—she’d have a pulse.

So that was Option One.

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