Page 44 of Secret Weapon

15

NINE

The surprises just kept coming today, didn’t they?

Alex.

Alexei.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked.Da, the world was a big place with over seven billion people, but when you looked at the microcosm of special forces, it really was quite small.Incestuous, even.At times, your old enemy became your new boss.A former Spetsnaz operative could easily find himself hunting pirates off the Somali coast, or playing bodyguard to rich Emiratis, or hired as a mercenary in Syria.Or, it seemed, working as a personal trainer to a vicious British assassin with a taste for donuts.

Alexei looked down at me, confused.

“Do we know each other?”

“We met once, a long time ago.Twenty years.”

I never forgot a face.It was both a blessing and a curse.A blessing because two decades later, I still saw Alexei perfectly in my dreams, and a curse because those dreams invariably turned into nightmares where I relived Rad’s death over and over and over again.Where I saw General Zacharov’s sneer as he slapped me.Where I saw heads disintegrate, and blood, so much blood…

“Twenty years ago?In Russia?”

“Da, on a helicopter.You were on our extract team, and you gave me your coat.”

I’d been fifteen years old, sent along with Pavel and Artem to rescue a hostage in the days before General Zacharov went rogue.Why me?Because the separatist leader who’d taken the hostage had a daughter my age, and with creative make-up, I looked enough like her to get into his stronghold.My entrance had gone smoothly, but the egress was a different story, mainly because the hostage had been an imbecile of the highest order.Damned politicians.We’d escaped in a hail of bullets, then hidden out in a virtual swamp while we waited for transport.When we finally made it onto the helicopter, I’d been on the verge of hypothermia, shaking, wondering whether it might be easier just to die next time.Pavel and Artem—who’d done twenty percent of the work—had been happy to take eighty percent of the praise, and I’d been stuffed in the back next to Alexei, teeth chattering.Miserable.Exhausted.And that was when he’d given me his coat.Pavel hadn’t offered a thing, and Artem had handed me his soaking-wet scarf, but Alexei tucked his overcoat around me and made me drink and eat a little before I fell asleep.

I fell asleep.

I never slept near people I didn’t trust.Never.I’d go forty-eight hours without sleep before I’d close my eyes around a stranger.Yet I’d practically passed out on Alexei.And I meanonAlexei.Head on his shoulder, hand on his thigh, our bodies pressed together.I’d woken long enough to register him carrying me from the helicopter to the plane for the next leg of the journey, and that was the last time I ever saw him.

Until now.

But I’d kept his jacket.

Sometimes I’d even worn it.

And of all the belongings I’d had to leave behind at Base 13, that old, unwashed coat was the thing I missed the most.

Ana’s eyes widened.“Our Alex is your Alexei?Are you kidding me?You wore that jacket all the—”

I shot her a warning glare.She smiled, and Ana’s smiles were as rare as my own.

“Darya, meet Alex Garin.He’s our trainer.Alex, this is Darya Volkova.Dasha to her friends.”

Alex held out a hand.“Darya.”

Dasha.“Alex.”

I was glad now that I’d made the effort to wear nice clothes tonight.Rad used to laugh at me for dressing up, but I hated to look unkempt.Being ugly on the inside was bad enough.On Base 13, Zacharov and his minions had made every effort to strip away my femininity, to debase me, so was it really any surprise that I liked to put on lipstick when I was able to?Lipstick was freedom.A tiny act of rebellion in a world where exercising personal choice was rewarded with punishment.Darla didn’t wear lipstick.A therapist would probably say I was punishing myself for past wrongs, and maybe they’d be right?My sins were legion.

“I always wondered what happened to you,” Alex said.

“You remember that night?”

“I’m surprised you do.”

“The kindnesses were few and far between in those days.”

Silence followed, and I became acutely aware that everyone was staring at us.Now I regretted driving because I really could have used a glass of wine or three.I picked up the menu and studied it, just your regular socially awkward assassin, no big deal.

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