Ekaterina (25 page)

Grazovich flipped through the book, his face expectant, the girl forgotten although she hung on his shoulder, moving her hips to the music, leaving nothing to the imagination. It took only a moment for Grazovich’s expression to change. His face mottled with anger. “You’re an idiot.” Grazovich swore, adding to his opinion.

Ilyitch blinked like he’d been slapped.

“This is a Bible. A fancy American Bible.” He flung it onto the bar toward Ilyitch. It upset a bowl of pistachio nuts, spilling them across the wooden bar. Grazovich’s eyes narrowed, and for a split second, Ilyitch smelled the odor of evil that trailed his terrorist bedfellow. Ilyitch grabbed up the book, and stared at the pages. Disbelief, then frustration, clenched his stomach.

“Get the girl. Bring her to Pskov. I’ll meet you there, and we’ll see if we can unearth Anton’s little secret. This is your last chance. Don’t make me sorry I saved your hide ten years ago.”

Ilyitch took the book, and tucked it away in his pocket, not rising to the threat. He had more going for him than this greasy Abkhazian thought. Much more. He wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers. “Where are you going?”

“To see what treasures Moscow holds for a weary traveler.” He wound a finger around the blonde’s hair and tugged. Ilyitch left before he saw the rest.

-

From Kat’s vantage point, Pyotr seemed her last link to hope, and even that was dissolving quickly under the heat of Vadeem’s bluntness. “She’s in danger. She’s leaving.”

Vadeem paced the departure lobby like a panther, waiting for their flight to be called. Kat had never seen him so unstrung, but then again, she’d only known him for five days. Theirs wasn’t a lengthy relationship.

But it felt like it. It felt like she’d known this man for the better part of her life, or at least wanted to. He climbed right into her heart, nestled there, and she’d forgotten, or at least abandoned, every teaching about not falling for an unbeliever.

She was in more danger than Vadeem even realized.

Maybe he was right. Leave. Run away before her heart got totally skinned. Depart before the emotions that had begun to build started to take on nightmare proportions. She had even spent time duping herself into believing he could love her back. Those blue eyes that looked right into her soul with unmasked delight, that lopsided smile, even those strong arms that held her, had made her wonder, and hope he could, possibly. . .

Kat swallowed back a sudden wave of heartache, and picked up her suitcase. She nearly crumpled.

“What are you doing?” Vadeem instantly curled a hand around her waist, holding her up with a tight grip. “You aren’t carrying anything, and if you don’t behave, I’ll carry you.”

A smile tugged at his mouth, and she wanted to give in to his joke. . .unless it wasn’t a joke. She grimaced, not sure. Visions of Matthew, forced to walk her home, or even the argument that had finally led to their official breakup, flashed through her mind.

“You aren’t going to Russia and that’s final.”

Bossy. That was the way Matthew treated her. And suddenly Vadeem had acquired all sorts of Matthew attributes. Like carrying her in his arms out of the hospital, with Pyotr hot on his heels, at the crack of dawn, despite the fact that her legs worked just fine. Or calling a taxi and driving straight to the hotel, where Vadeem unceremoniously packed her bag. She’d been red-faced and not a little furious as he ordered her to sit in a chair. He hadn’t been too polite about it either.

The poor Watsons. They’d been left in the lurch, waiting in the lobby, aglow with hope, dressed to pick up little Gleb and welcome him into their family

“Not a chance,” Vadeem had barked, when John Watson pleaded with him.

Thank the Lord, Pyotr had diffused the situation by agreeing to take them to the orphanage and help them collect their son. Even now, his tall presence soothed her fragmenting heart. Tears pricked Kat’s eyes when the pastor enveloped her in a hug. He was so solid, strong and wise, and all she could do was stutter, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry you never got a chance to talk to my mother,” he said, not looking at Vadeem who stared out onto the tarmac, watching the gray sky like a meteorologist. Kat almost wished for a cyclone. Anything to let her stay.

If she were a stronger person, perhaps she could stand up to Mr. Menace. But confrontation had never been her forte. Ditching was more her style. The thought played through her mind, and made this sudden jaunt east bearable.

“Me too,” she answered Pyotr. “Maybe someday.”

Vadeem glanced at her, but she deliberately ignored him and planted a kiss on Pyotr’s leathery cheek. “God Bless, Pyotr, and thank you for your help with the Watsons.”

“Anything for a sister in Christ,” Pyotr said, warmth in his blue eyes.

Kat’s eyes filled. Pyotr, mercifully, didn’t comment.

“Let’s go.” Vadeem stalked up to them and grabbed Kat’s suitcase. She bristled at the chill in his demeanor.

“Thanks again Pyotr.” He held out his hand.

Kat caught the look of genuine concern that crossed the pastor’s face as he took Vadeem’s grip. The two men stared at one another, one filled with compassion, the other hiding from it. Kat could almost hear a conversation being played in their silent expressions. Then Vadeem let go and tucked his arm around Kat, his face grim but unyielding. Kat’s hope took a final dive.

“Vadeem,” Pyotr said, reaching out and grabbing his arm. “If you ever want to. . .talk, I’m in Moscow now and again. . .”

Vadeem shrugged away from him. “Thanks, Pastor, but I don’t have anything more to say.”

Kat saw the way Pyotr pursed his lips, reining in further comment. But he didn’t nod or agree. Kat’s heart sank. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’d given herself permission to believe Vadeem was just a lost believer, needing the guidance of a man of God in his life. But she’d seen the truth in his eyes. Yes, Vadeem was a believer all right. He believed so much that it was eating him alive. He didn’t want anything to do with God.

Or, maybe he did.

Maybe that was what the crying, the rage outside the church was all about. Spiritual battle.

Before sympathy could temper her anger, Vadeem propelled her toward the exit.

The doors whooshed behind them as they ran across the tarmac to the plane. Vadeem took her elbow as they started up the stairs, then practically pushed her along the twenty-passenger aisle to their seats. Yes, definitely bossy.

And to think she’d kissed him. She called herself every kind of fool as the plane took off and Vadeem sat like a sentry beside her, unmoving, his hands cupping his knees.

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach and stayed there the entire way to Moscow.

The Moscow weather did nothing to lighten her mood. Gray, with low hanging clouds and not a hint of sunlight, the sky spat upon the window of the taxi. Kat traced a finger down the pane, following a raindrop.

Vadeem was on his cell phone, making her travel arrangements.

She hadn’t talked to him in two hours.

He’d tried. He’d asked about her family at home. Once commented on the airplane snacks. Even bought her a package of M&M’s. That dubious kindness nearly did her in. It took a clenched jaw and a determination to stare out the window to get past her conflicting emotions.

Finally, with a sigh, he gave up.

And that’s what hurt the most.

The taxi splashed past the Kremlin, towards the U.S. Embassy, where, Kat had no doubt Vadeem was anxious to unload her. They were probably already processing her new visa and passport, the one she’d unwittingly thrown at her dark attacker, along with her Bible.

“You’re flight leaves tomorrow at 2:00 p.m.”

Kat stared out the window, trying to find words to confront his utter betrayal.

“I’ll be by to take you to the plane.”

To make sure you obey me.
The hurt pushed tears into her eyes.

“Please Kat, don’t cry.” His soft voice stabbed at her heart. She turned her shoulders away from him, refusing him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. She could hardly believe that yesterday morning he’d woken up in her arms, or that last night, she’d reached out and kissed him. The idiocy of her open heart swept bitterness into her chest.

“This is the best thing for you. I’m just trying to keep you safe.” He reached for her, cupping his hand under her chin, attempting to turn her. “Look at you. You look like you’ve been used as a punching bag. I don’t want that to become a reality.”

She swallowed back the lump of pain forming in her chest, pushing its way into her throat. Okay, she was ready to admit that someone was after her. . .but there were other options. Options that included him acting like a friend instead of booting her out of a country that held answers to questions she’d asked all her life. She felt as if he was ripping her future out of her hands, and the whimper she made sounded just like that.

“Kat,” he responded, “this little quest is not worth your life.” She felt the frustration in his low voice. He turned toward her and she covered her face with her hands. She heard his fist land in the back of the driver’s seat and shuddered. “What is so important that you’d risk your life? Over and over, I might add.”

“Family,” her voice betrayed her in a wretched whisper. “Belonging.”

The whir of wheels running on slick pavement filled his silence.

She closed her eyes, willing her voice steady. “I came here to find family, because I have none.”

“What are you talking about?” His voice hovered just above a whisper. “What about the grandfather you keep talking about.”

She couldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t. Her eyes filled and she clenched her jaw, fighting the tears.

“I’m not related to him.” She lifted her chin, stared out the car window at the chipped, graying building, an appropriate backdrop to her despair. “All my life, I knew I was different. I even look different. My family all has dark hair, green eyes. But I’ve got amber eyes and light brown hair. Why? I don’t know, and that’s the problem. My parents were killed when I was ten, and I grew up with my grandfather.” Kat leaned her forehead against the window, the cool glass a balm against her skin. “What they all don’t know, not even Grandfather, is that I know the truth.”

“The truth?”

Rain spit on the windows as the pervasive cold drilled into her bones, and she began to shiver. “I don’t belong to any of them. Not Grandfather, not Grape-Grandmother, not the hordes of cousins, uncles or aunts. No one.”

“Kat I don’t get it—”

“I got my tonsils out when I was eighteen and had some complications.” She cleared her throat of the gathering tears. “I had to get a transfusion and I discovered I had AB negative blood—a pretty rare type. My grandfather has type O positive, which is a universal donor. . .for anyone but those with type AB neg..” She closed her eyes, remembering the day in first semester biology at Nyack when she realized her AB negative blood couldn’t come from grandfather. Genetics said that his dominant O positive genes would have been passed down to her mother, and then to Kat. It had only taken some scientific sleuthing to realize true Neumann blood could never have run in her AB negative veins. Or her mother’s.

“My grandfather is not related to me by blood. Which means, I have no idea who I am.”

He touched her hair with his hand. “I know who you are. You’re Kat Moore, America. Stubborn. Brave and beautiful distraction in my life who is trying to get herself killed.” She stiffened, fighting the urge to lean into his words.

“Don’t send me home, Vadeem. Please.”

“Kat, I know all about what it feels like to need to belong to something. . .or someone,” Vadeem said in an achingly gentle voice. “But it’s not worth risking your life.”

She turned, and saw his eyes glistened. It chipped at her fury. “The risk is worth it me. Let me find Magda or at least Anton’s secret. You know it’s important or someone wouldn’t be trying to get his book.” He wove his hands together on his lap, white fists against his black jeans, as if making a point not to touch her. It felt like a slap.

“I can’t be a good cop and let you stay. You. . .you’ll get hurt. And it’ll be on my conscience.”

“Well, pity you!” She clenched her teeth. “Heaven help you if you have to baby-sit me one day longer.”

“Kat, I didn’t—”

“I never asked you for help, as I recall. You just tackled me, by way of introduction, and you’ve been hounding me ever since.” She didn’t care that the harsh words burned in her throat. Anger pushed her past compassion, past civility.

“I don’t need your help, nor want it, and you’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming to the plane and throw me aboard to get me out of here.”

His voice was deadly calm. “If I have to.”

She closed her eyes. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No, don’t bother. I don’t ever want to see you again. Tomorrow isn’t soon enough to say good-bye.”

Her chest tightened when he said, “
Ladna
. I’ll send Ryslan to pick you up. I won’t bother you any more.” His voice turned ragged, the only indication of the man she’d seen weeping at her bedside the night before. “But you
are
getting on that plane, and you’re going home. And never coming back.”