Suddenly a Spy (13 page)

“Poor choice of words,” she whispered loudly
to Vance.

“Very funny, Ron,” Rick ran his fingers
through his hair. She knew he wasn’t happy, but he was
conceding.

“I’ve downloaded everything I have to the
laptop,” Vance stood and stretched. “Now I have to get moving
before someone wonders why I haven’t shown up yet.”

“You’ll keep an eye on her tonight?” Rick
nodded to Veronica. She shoved him in the chest.

Vance nodded to Rick and left before Veronica
could turn her wrath on him.

“I don’t want to spend what time we have
together fighting,” she told Rick when they stood alone in the
room.

“I don’t either,” he softened just a little
around the edges. Still, he seemed distant and Ronnie wasn’t sure
how to bridge the gap between them.

“What can I do to make you feel better about
this?”

“Run away with me to a remote island.”

“Besides that.”

“Be prepared.”

“Okay then,” she placed her hands on his
shoulders and looked up into his troubled eyes. “Let’s stop wasting
time and start preparing. What data did Vance drop off?”

The next few hours were more boring than she
would have expected. When she watched spy movies, everything seems
to happen so quickly. She was finding the reality to often be
slow-moving and tedious. Stupid movies, always making things seem
easier than they were.

By the time she changed for dinner, she knew
the ins and outs of Marko’s plans and his crew. Her brain also felt
a little like it had in high school after a long evening of
preparing for a trigonometry exam.

She chose a little black dress for the night
and did her best to ignore Rick’s sour mood. In fact, she told
herself the darker his expression got the better she should feel
about her ensemble. She stood back from the mirror and examined her
reflection, tugging at the capped sleeve to cover the scar left by
the bullet in Italy.

“If tonight goes… well,” he forced himself to
say the word, “then you will most likely be put under observation.
He likes to watch people for a while before deciding to trust them.
Until you pass that test, we will have to sever all contact.”

“How long will that take?”

“It’s hard to say. Two weeks? A month?”

Veronica frowned. She didn’t like the idea of
being cut off from him. They’d discussed it before, but now it
loomed close and that was changing her perspective a bit.

“Undercover work means long stints away from
those you love. That’s why I walked away.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll actually return to
being pleasant by the time I see you again.”

“I’ll be pleasant again when my archenemy is
no longer wooing my wife.”

“Who says wooing?”

“It’ll be a miracle if Marko survives
you.”

“I should go,” Veronica felt rooted to her
spot. She didn’t like feeling weird around Rick. She didn’t like
leaving things this way.

“Don’t forget to only use a taxi with its
rates marked on the passenger side of the windshield,” he cleared
his throat.

“Um. Okay,” she nodded.

They stood there uncomfortably. She wanted
him to drag her into his arms and kiss her as if his life depended
on it.

“I’ll contact you when it’s safe.”

“Okay,” she nodded again, feeling like a
fool. After another painful silence, she snatched her small black
purse off the dresser and fled out the door before she could do
something very un-James Bond—like bursting into tears.

Chapter Fourteen

Veronica fidgeted nervously with her dress
while she waited for the door to be opened. She’d managed to escape
the tears and had brutally shoved all thoughts of Rick as deep into
her psyche as possible. She had a job to do; she could ponder the
complexities of their relationship later.

The house was more modern than she’d
expected, with a hint of Spanish flavor and a dash of medieval. The
architecture was actually quite unlike any she was familiar
with.

A pretty young girl with large doe eyes and
fragile bone structure opened the door. She wore a classic maid’s
uniform, which Veronica found oddly disconcerting.

“May I announce your arrival?”

“Elizabeth Gorman,” Veronica supplied the
pseudonym Rick had given her.

The young woman nodded and led her to the
back of the house where a party was obviously in full throttle.
Ronnie was vaguely aware of being announced. She was trying not to
panic over the size of Marko’s little get together.

People spilled out of the back of the house
into the large expanse of yard. Some were eating, many were
drinking. A full orchestra played. It was the kind of party her
father would have drug her to kicking and screaming, at the request
of some politician or another back in D.C. She’d hated those,
too.

Veronica saw Vance standing next to a buffet
table, engrossed in a conversation with a man she recognized from
the auction house in New York—Petrov Kulenović. She had to remind
herself that here Vance’s name was Bo and she did not know him.

With the maid having vanished, Ronnie found
herself alone and feeling like she was at her first boy-girl dance
in junior high. Her acute discomfort compounded her misery over
Rick. So when Marko appeared with a pleasant smile and a welcoming
kiss on her cheek, she was genuinely relieved to see him.

His attention was so complete it had the
effect of turning several eyes her way. She went from being
invisible to interesting in a heartbeat. Maybe her imagination was
running away with her, but it seemed suddenly that the women hated
her and the men wanted her.

“Come on, I want you to meet my brother. He’s
a real ass.”

“Then I can’t wait.”

Marko laughed. His obvious delight in
everything she said was a little unnerving after her fight with
Rick. It just felt strange. And, truthfully, a little good.

“Petrov, this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this
is my brother Petrov and our associate, Bo.”

“Please tell me you don’t expect me to
remember this one’s name,” Petrov looked Veronica over
disdainfully.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” she gave
the hateful man her prettiest smile and nodded acknowledgement to
Vance. Though his expression remained stoic, she recognized the
spark of amusement in his eyes.

“So, tell me again Petrov… how long have you
been Adrianna’s puppet?” Marko tossed back at his brother.

“Leave her out of this.”

“That’s what I thought,” Marko turned his
attention to Veronica. “Come on; let’s see if we can find someone
with a personality.”

Veronica allowed herself to be led away. She
tried to take in as much of her surroundings as she could but
decided she’d be a horrible witness to a crime. She’d barely left
Petrov’s presence and already wouldn’t be able to describe him if
necessary. Other than an average build and brown hair, she’d be
hard pressed to give any further descriptors.

“Too boring, too drunk, too stiff, too
loose…” Marko assessed the various pockets of people around them.
“Looks like we’re the only interesting people here.”

“I often have that problem.”

“I bet you do,” his eyes swept over her
again.

The intimacy of the look reminded her that
he’d yet to let go of her hand.

“So what do the only two interesting people
in the room do in this neck of the woods?” she attempted to keep
the conversation going. Judging from the look on his face, she’d
possibly just propositioned him in her nervousness.

With the devil in his eyes, he pulled her up
against him even as he gestured to the orchestra. It sparked a
memory—one of Rick pulling her into a flawless waltz at their
wedding. Only this time, the melody seamlessly transitioned to a
tango. Her body obeyed his commands of its own accord, her
movements melded effortlessly with his.

He was tall, taller even than Rick. In her
highest heels, she came only to his shoulders. And he danced
delightfully; her body hummed. She’d had dance partners who’d known
the motions but never one who moved with such grace and
assurance.

By the time the last strains of music clung
to the air, her chest was heaving with an emotion she dare not
name. They stood a breath away from each other—she flustered, him
aroused. A smattering of applause broke the spell that held
them.

He smiled at the crowd they’d gathered,
nodding acknowledgement. As he spun Veronica around, her eyes
locked briefly with Vance’s. His held a bemused expression that
made her blush. Has she really been attracted to Marko, if even
briefly? Would Rick hear about it? Should that matter?

As the evening progressed, she combated the
effects of Marko’s nearness by picturing him doing horrific things
like kicking puppies and running down old ladies.

It seemed easier to conjure those images than
the ones she knew to be true—ones of him buying and selling human
beings. Even if he’d never laid a hand on the women he sold, their
plight was on his head.

“Gregory, so good to see you,” Marko was
shaking hands with a middle-aged man who reeked of wealth. Veronica
could tell with one look that he came from old money. It was her
experience that men from old money were often bored with life.
There was little left to conquer.

“It’s good to be seen. Are we still on for
tomorrow night?”

“Nine sharp,” Marko promised before steering
Veronica on to the next guest.

“A party two nights in a row? How do you keep
up?” Veronica fished for information.

“Stamina. Lucky for you, tomorrow’s gentlemen
only, so you can rest up.”

“Am I resting up for anything in particular?”
she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a look filled with
promises she had no intention of keeping.

He paused for a breath, as if considering
tossing her over his shoulder right then and there. “I was thinking
a boat ride sounded fun. Let’s go soak up some sun together.”

“Absolutely. Although, I do wonder if you
were all talk… I’ve yet to see my Roman artifacts.”

“All talk? Me?”

She shrugged saucily and looked away.

“Alright, I’ll take the bait. Come on,” he
grabbed her hand and led her to a quiet room at the other end of
the house. He threw the doors open and flipped on the light,
bringing to life a museum within his home.

Veronica’s reaction was genuine as she sucked
in her breath and then let out a low whistle. She’d never much seen
the appeal of old stuff, but in this room she could almost feel the
story of the ages come back to life again.

“I wonder if the woman who made bread with
this bowl knew it would one day be considered a thing of beauty. I
have to admit I’ve never considered my Kitchenaide mixer to be
art.”

Marko’s laughter rumbled low in his throat
again. It was a pleasant sound.

“How did you get all of this? Do you have
more?”

“I run a little antique business.”

The conversation was interrupted by the
padding of feet. Veronica instinctively knelt and held a hand out
to the massive dog that loped into the room.

“He’s not very friendly…” Marko’s voice
drifted off as the Doberman sniffed Veronica’s hand, and then
submitted quite happily to her touch.

“I have a way with dogs,” she shrugged.

“Apparently,” Marko snorted. “And apparently
he’s a horrible guard dog.”

“Do you need protected from me?”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“This is lovely,” she changed the subject,
standing to point to a black vase not unlike the one she’d sold to
help fund her trip to Bulgaria. Her fingers still absentmindedly
scratched the dog’s ears.

“Then it’s yours.”

“You don’t have to do that; it’s too
much.”

“Nonsense,” he waved the gesture off as if it
were nothing.

“That’s a three thousand dollar vase.”

“True, but I want to do this. Please?”

“Thank you,” she conceded.

“I’ll have it sent to your hotel.”

“I’m staying at the…”

“Grand. I know.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed or creeped
out?”

“Impressed.”

Veronica seemed to consider. In truth, she
was surprised he’d admitted as much to her.

“It behooves me to know as much as possible
about the people I spend time with,” he reached out to stroke her
cheek.

In that tender moment, Veronica wondered if
she would have trouble killing him when the time came. A part of
her hoped that task would fall to Rick. One of them would have to
do it—as long as Marko’s heart beat, there would be no peace in
their life.

“You look sad,” the concern in his voice
seemed genuine, and that made Veronica feel even smaller.

“Just tired. I should go,” she stood on
tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll have my driver take you.”

She nodded, grateful to not have to deal with
a taxi again.

“And he’ll pick you up again at noon on
Sunday.”

“It’s a date,” Veronica turned to leave but
Marko caught her by the hand. He twirled her into his arms and
leaned her back. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was both
thorough and sweet.

God help her, she kissed him back. In her
mind she rationalized that it was all part of the cover. In her
heart, she had to admit that the reaction had come before the
rationalization of it.

Marko set her back on her feet again, taking
her dazed look as a compliment. He called for his driver and loaded
her into a sleek, black sedan, his lips brushing her fingers one
last time. Veronica stared at her reflection in the window on the
way back to the hotel. Her lips declaring to the world by their
appearance they’d been properly kissed. So that’s what a whore
looks like, she told herself.

Mechanically, she made her way to her room
where she took a long, hot shower and changed into her pajamas.
Then she curled up in the fetal position under the covers, turned
on her iPod, and cried herself to sleep.