Page 87 of Dangerous Secrets

“Okay. Okay.” Di Stefano shot his arm out and checked the time. “We’d better start getting her ready.”

Nick stepped in front of Charity. “I’ll do it. You get out of here and wait for me at the van. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

Silence. Di Stefano breathed in and out, then finally spoke. “I can count on that? That you’ll get out of here? Because you look an awful lot like you’re about to go cowboy again on me, Iceman. More than you already have, and I can’t accept that. I’m going to need your word that you’re going to leave here and let her get to Worontzoff’s house on her own.”

“A driver will be coming for me,” Charity offered. She didn’t quite understand the tension humming between the two of them, but it was palpably there.

Nick’s jaw muscles jumped. “Precisely,” he said to her, while staring at Di Stefano. “You’re going to be alone in a car with one of Worontzoff’s goons for—what? Fifteen, twenty minutes? A lot of things can happen in that time. Lot of bad things.”

Charity’s heart jumped. “I—I don’t think Vassily would hurt me.”

Nick turned to her, jaw muscles jumping. “Vassily wouldn’t hurt Katya Artsemova, no. He loved her. But Katya Artsemova has been dead for almost thirty years. He thinks he loves you because you look so much like her, but you’renother. When the craziness in his head dies down and he realizes that, who knows what the fuck he’ll do?”

“You come back to the van, Iceman,” Di Stefano said, his voice cold and steady. “You will not compromise this part of the mission before it’s begun, I hope that’s clear.”

“Or what?” Nick asked, swiveling back to him.

“Or I’ll fucking cuff you, that’s what.”

Nick bared his teeth. “You can fucking try. And you watch your fucking language. There’s a lady here.”

“Shit.” Di Stefano’s teeth clicked together in exasperation. “I don’t want to get into a pissing contest with you. I want your word that you’ll wire her up and get out.”

Nick touched her hand. “Charity? This is up to you. Do you still want to do this? Because I’m dead set against it. We’re listening in on Worontzoff’s study and we’ll keep the beam on until the last possible minute. We’ve tapped his phones. We’re going to photograph everyone coming in and going out. Maybe we can put a snake mike in. We don’t need you to do this.”

Di Stefano opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly not wanting to influence her. Because, of course, they did need her.

Vassily’s mansion was huge. Most of the times she’d been to see him, he was in his living room, which had the largest hearth in the house, not his study. It was entirely possible that he would be meeting with his people there instead of the study. It was entirely possible they would meet after five, which is when the sun went down. They needed eyes and ears and it looked like she was it.

Charity didn’t in any way underestimate the danger, though she was also certain that Vassily wouldn’t hurt her. Nonetheless,she was walking into a room full of criminals, with no training to deal with violence should it erupt. On the other hand, she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Nick would be as close to her as he could get.

She didn’t have to do this, and yet—she did. Charity trusted her moral compass and her needle was pointing at true north right now. She was in a position to help her country and she was taking it. How could she refuse? The deep calm of knowing she was doing the right thing came over her.

Even her nausea had abated and she felt well, for the first time in days. Of course, she’d been grieving over Nick’s death, and seeing him in front of her, looking strong and vital and angry, completely wiped her grief away.

The front door closed quietly and Nick rounded on her. His hand shot out, curling around her neck. He bent until his forehead touched hers, eyes a fierce, deep blue. “I don’t want you to do this,” he whispered.

Charity stepped back, but he just followed her. A couple more steps and her back was against the wall, Nick’s long, lean body pressing in against her.

“I know,” she answered. “But I have to.” She took a deep breath and asked the question that was haunting her. “After—afterwards.” She swallowed. There was no moisture left in her mouth, her lungs felt empty. It was hard to speak. “Afterwards, will I see you again?”

It was painful to humiliate herself like this, but her need to know overrode her embarrassment. If he said no, he was leaving as soon as his job here was over, she’d crumple to the ground.

Her knees stiffened, her spine stacked back up. No, no she wouldn’t. Prewitts didn’t fall to the ground. They took what life dealt them, and did the best they could.

It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “You are staying twenty minutes, not a second more. The instant you step outside ofWorontzoff’s house, I will be at your side and I’m not leaving you, ever again.”

A low growling noise came from Nick’s throat, the noise a dying, wounded animal would make. He bent down to her, eyes blazing, mouth open. Her own mouth opened, instinctively, helplessly, for his kiss. But he stopped a breath away from her lips, eyes burning into hers. He was panting, his breath hot on her cheek. A trickle of sweat fell down his temple to plop on her neck.

It was impossible to think of anyone calling him Iceman. He looked like he was ready to explode into a fireball.

“I came back from the fucking dead for you, Charity, so no, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to live with you here or another house; I don’t care. I’ll do something—maybe I’ll run for sheriff. I don’t care about that, either, as long as I’m with you and we can raise our child together. Is that clear?”

She could almost feel the waves of his strong male will beating against her. There was no way she could resist him even if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Living with him for the rest of her life, raising their child together, sounded like heaven.

“Yes, very clear,” she whispered.

He brought his mouth down to hers again, stopping at the last second, then pulling back. His eyes dropped to her mouth, then rose again.

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