To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) (13 page)

As he had guided her to his office, he had purposefully avoided any physical contact and realized the stupidity of his decision the minute her humorous smile had spread across her face and flooded her eyes. She looked even more beautiful, her exuberant youth shining through crystal clear.

He tried to make sense of his emotions but couldn’t. Being alone with her in his private office was a disaster and, at the same time, a dream in the making. His secretary knew not to walk in unannounced, so there was no chance of an interruption. The temptation to touch her skin, taste her sweet lips with his, feel her puckered nipples scrape his chest again drove him out of his mind.

The devil warred with the angel on his shoulder, and the devil was winning. Hell, the devil was having a fucking field day. What if he took a leap of faith and enjoyed time with Jessica? Explained that he wanted to be in her presence, loved her humor and intelligent conversation. Wanted nothing more than to feel the touch of her skin against his. All without commitment.

The minute the thought crossed his mind he felt like a cur. That wasn’t him speaking. It was lust. Pure and simple. His conscience screamed at him. Jessica wasn’t the type that would take a fling lightly. At least he didn’t see her that way. In his mind’s eye, he saw a big shiny ring on her finger and white veils.

She deserved commitment. She deserved someone who would be with her long term, and he knew he wasn’t that man. Yet her presence there indicated she was determined to get what she wanted—him. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at her persistence.

Her question cut through the haze of his emotional confusion and drove him to finally meet her eyes. For a moment, he simply stared at her at a loss for words. “Right. Yes. I’m brilliant, thank you. And how are you enjoying your visit to Dublin?”

Jessica narrowed her eyes. “Haven’t started looking for an apartment yet. Cassie said she’d help me when I’m ready.”

“So, this job of yours is only temporary?” The thought of her going back to the States and no longer in close proximity to him was almost as disappointing as the shock of finding out about her move to Dublin.

“Oh, no. It’s definitely permanent. I’m not going anywhere.” She continued to watch him closely as she commented, almost as if she were measuring the impact of each and every word through the expressions on his face.

“I see.”

Stephan’s heart beat so loudly it could almost be heard in the thick silence that grew again between them. He needed time to think about the consequences of her moving to Dublin. He had believed he could just ignore her proximity, pretend she was still in California, but her visit proved him wrong. Stephan could never ignore her existence. Could never avoid her. Not with having Trevor and Cassandra as common friends. He wouldn’t stop visiting with them for the sake of keeping his distance from Jessica.

He needed to rethink his approach. Rethink his convictions. But Stephan couldn’t do that with her standing so close to him—so close that her feminine scent invaded him, the heat of her body teased him to reach out and touch her like a moth attracted to a flame. He knew he would get burned with this one, and he wanted to figure out how to minimize the damage of the train wreck he was about to cause. Trying to buy time and create the necessary detachment to investigate his deep-seated fears and resolutions, he stood and blurted out, “Join me for lunch.”

A victorious smile curved her lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Score!

T
HE UNFINISHED ANALYSIS ON PAUL FABER, the MDS employee Trevor had met with, had taunted Cassandra for days. She had wanted to tackle it while it was still fresh in her memory.

After Trevor had left, she’d huddled at her computer, reviewing the video stream captured on the day of the meeting and the notes of the impressions she had jotted down. She reaffirmed her earlier conclusions that there was nothing there to be concerned about.

Cassandra stretched her arms above her head and shook them out to get the circulation moving again. The prickling of the restored blood flow felt as good as finishing everything she had wanted to accomplish that morning.

Cassandra eased back in her chair and rested her feet on the desk while she took a breather. She glanced at the clock. Trevor had been gone a couple of hours, and she still needed to tackle the review of the files George had sent during their last conversation.

A soft smile caressed her lips as she remembered the frown on Trevor’s face as he had left—one she always found so damn sexy. If it was still on his face when he returned she would be compelled to do something about it. Vivid images of how she could do just that bombarded her and her face grew warm as a flush crept into her cheeks.
Focus, Cassie
.

Cassandra exhaled a deep breath as she dropped her feet from the desk and dove back into the review of the transcripts. As she read through Jennifer’s work her heart rate increased and pounded in apprehension. She could see why George’s boxers were in a bunch. It was always a bad thing when Russians were involved. Her days with the CIA had been filled with tidbits of information that could make one’s skin crawl.

As she came across names, she took notes and, once finished, began the intelligence work—collecting any pertinent information on all of the names pulled from the transcript as well as the names of persons of interest linked to the phone number in question. Thanks to an anonymous proxy server and a sweet little program Trevor had created to reset and mask their IP address at regular intervals, they were able to do all their poking without being traced.

Confident they were safe, she entered the first few names from her list—Shapko and Pushkar—names mentioned several times in the conversation between Tomlin and the caller.

When
No data returned
displayed on the screen for both, Cassandra rubbed her face, put her hair back into a ponytail, and tapped her fingers on the keyboard impatiently while staring at the screen. The names weren’t flagged in any of the intelligence databases.
They might be small fish.
She crossed them off the list, moving onto the actual caller himself—Sergei Deminov.

Her fingers jumped across the keys as she entered the letters into the search program. With a tap of her pinky, she initiated the scan. While it ran, she toggled back to the transcript.

Within minutes, her eyes were caught by the application flashing on the taskbar. Toggling back to it, Cassandra skimmed the report generated and grinned—the first real one of the morning.

Sergei Deminov was a very naughty boy—someone Trevor would definitely be interested in, based on his activities and connections.

A satisfied smile spread across her lips.
Finally! A real freaking lead.
She returned her attention to the screen and skimmed a few more lines of text, hitting on another name: Vladimir Mikhailov. Excitement gripped her as she paged back through her notes. Mikhailov had been mentioned several times and looked promising. The corner of Cassandra’s mouth quirked. The name reminded her of the movie
The Saint
and the lead character’s adventure in Russia.
Damn. I love that movie
.
It has to be a sign.

She typed Mikhailov into the search field; once the search initiated, it didn’t take long for the screen to be populated with details about the man himself.
This just might make Trevor’s day.
She copied the information on both Deminov and Mikhailov to the project file and saved it.

Satisfied, she left the office and ran down the flight of stairs to the kitchen. She was starving to the point that her hands were starting to look tasty. She had her head stuck in the fridge looking for something to eat when she heard the footsteps. Anticipation sent her pulse racing: Trevor was finally back.

Cassandra’s name died on his lips as he stepped into the kitchen and found her standing by the open fridge. “No need to search, love. Brought you something.”

“Perfect timing. I’m starved!”

He placed the bags and cup holder on the counter and handed her the cup with the coffee. He brought his own closer to his nose and inhaled the delicious Earl Grey scent before taking a first sip. “Ambrosia.”

Watching as Cassandra closed her eyes and did the same with her Arabian blend, he pulled a plate from the cabinet and set the pastries on it so she could choose her poison.

Trevor’s groin clenched when a look of intense concentration overtook her face and her tongue moistened her lower lip. His grin widened when she finally chose a strawberry-filled Danish and took a slow bite out of it.

“Hmm. Really good,” she moaned, wiping some of the filling from her chin and licking her fingers.

His cock hardened instantly. He smiled to himself, shaking his head as he pressed his hand against the growing bulge constrained by his jeans to ease the ache.

He was tempted to throw her over his shoulder and run for their room, but they couldn’t afford to spend the rest of the day in bed having fun. There was too much on the line. Plus, Jessie could show up any time. He propped his hip against the counter and continued to watch as she delighted herself with his peace offering.

Cassandra nodded at the boxes on the counter and mumbled while chewing the last bite, “So, what do you have there?”

“I stopped by Aidan’s shop and picked up the micro cameras I’d ordered last month. The other package is from your dad. The courier was about to knock when I got to the door. No idea what it is.”

After brushing the pastry crumbs from her hands, she picked up the package, weighing it. “It’s really light.” She pulled a sharp knife from the drawer and cut through the packing tape. “He didn’t mention he was sending me anything,” she commented, setting the knife aside and opening the box. From it she pulled a carefully wrapped intricate pewter picture frame.

Curious, Trevor looked over her shoulder at the happy couple smiling in the wedding picture. He recognized Robert immediately, so the woman could only be Cecilia, Cassandra’s mom. The first thing that struck him was that Cassandra was the spitting image of her mother. The second was how quiet she became after unwrapping the frame.

Sensing was something off, he set his cup on the counter and hugged her from behind. She exhaled a choppy breath and her pulse beat rapidly as he placed a kiss on her neck before resting his chin on her shoulder. “She was a beautiful woman,
a ghrá
. You take after her.”

“You think so?” Cassandra’s chest burned as she gazed at the picture of her parents. Her fingers travelled lovingly over her mother’s features. She struggled to recall any memories from when she was a part of her life.

She leaned back against his chest. “I can remember that morning like it was yesterday. I was a little over eight years old. My dad kneeled in front me so he could look into my eyes. I don’t think I will ever forget the pain in them. I knew just by looking into his that something terrible had happened. When he spoke, his voice trembled as he told me my mother was in heaven.” She paused, lost in thought, reliving that dark moment. “I’d never seen him like that before. I can also clearly remember the day I realized I could no longer see her face, hear her beautiful Spanish accent, or smell the musky scent of her perfume.” It bothered her deeply that she couldn’t remember more of the happier years. Her voice hitched. “Why would he send this to me now? He cherishes this picture.”

Trevor’s warm lips caressed her shoulder. “He’s trying really hard to make things up to you, Cassie. Maybe he wanted you to have something to remember them by since you’re married now, living far from him.”

She set the picture on the counter, turned in his arms, and pressed a kiss on his lips. “Do you think it’s a sign he’s finally moving on?”

“Maybe it is,
a ghrá
,” Trevor responded, watching her closely. “Would that bother you?”

“No! I would love him to find someone.” Stepping out of his arms, she snagged another pastry and skillfully changed the subject. “Hey, I have something for you. Meet me upstairs in the office when you’re ready. I reviewed all the data from George and found something you’re gonna find
very
interesting.” Before he could retort, she headed back upstairs. She didn’t have time to dwell on the past at that moment. They had more important work to do—work that had an impact on their future.

Trevor took his time following her. He’d observed the frown marring her beautiful face as she left. She needed space and he’d give her some. He covered the rest of the pastries, grabbed the parcel from the counter, and climbed the stairs, making a pit stop on the third floor to store the new cameras with the rest of their surveillance equipment.

When he walked into the office, Cassandra’s eyes were glued to her screen. Sitting at his desk, he pulled up the project file Cassandra had saved. “So, what do you have for me?”

She glanced up and caught his gaze over the monitors. “Sergei Deminov. Russian national.”