SEVENTEEN

Blood.

Gray sweater.

Conner!

Hannah sat up straight in bed, sweating, panting.

Dear God.

Just a nightmare. No, more than that. It had been a reliving of that night in every detail.

Pain.

She got out of bed and went into the bathroom and drank a glass of water.

Conner.

Why was the shock and pain hitting her like this tonight? She'd managed to keep it at bay after the first few nights.

Because tomorrow she might be facing his murderer.

And she might be killing a man.

Don't think about it. What had to be done would be done.

But she couldn't go back to bed yet and risk another nightmare.

She pulled on her jeans and a shirt and headed for the door. She'd walk on the beach and try to exhaust herself enough to sleep without dreams.

The moon was bright and the surf was gentle.

Conner had never liked a quiet surf. He'd always been excited by crashing waves.

Walk fast.

Try not to think.

"Hannah."

Kirov. She stopped and turned to watch him coming toward her. "I don't want company, Kirov."

He studied her expression. "I can see that. You're getting it anyway."

She turned and walked away. "How did you get here?"

"I was coming back to my room, and I saw you leave."

"It's the middle of the night. What were you doing?"

"Maybe I was taking a midnight stroll too." He paused. "Nerves?"

She nodded jerkily. "I'll be okay."

"I know you will." He walked beside her in silence for a few moments. "You can change your mind."

"I'm not changing my mind." She walked faster. "I had a dream about Conner tonight. It was just like that night and he was-There's no way I could back out."

"I guess not. Just thought I'd offer."

She glanced at him. "Do you have nightmares, Kirov? I'd think you would."

"Because of the men I've killed?" He shook his head. "Only about the Pavski killed. I used to dream every night about my crewmen dying on the sub, wondering where I was, and reaching their hands out to me and begging me to die with them."

She shuddered. "Horrible."

"It was probably born of guilt. A captain is responsible for his crew and his ship. He should be with them to the end."

"You couldn't be there."

"My mind knows that. My emotions aren't at all reasonable. I've been trained to duty since childhood." He stopped. "Could we sit down? I'm tired of running a marathon. Tomorrow may be a taxing day."

"I told you not to come-" She shrugged and sat down on the sand. She linked her arms around her knees and stared out at the surf. "Do you think he'll come?"

He dropped down beside her. "Pavski? I don't know. There's a fair chance. It's worth a shot."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Maybe try to snag the man who delivers the cash. We'll play it by ear."

"Just like that? I don't believe this is something I want to be extemporaneous about."

"Then walk away."

"Stop saying that." Her hands clenched into fists. "If he doesn't come to us, we have to go after the cradle. That will draw him to us."

"No doubt. It's his beacon in the night."

"Then let's light it and lead him to hell. Tell me what I have to know to find it."

"If I knew that, I'd have found it already."

"You were interested in that mythology book."

"Because it wasn't mine. That means it could be Heiser's. Anything to do with Heiser is crucial."

"You said that the only clue could be the conversation between Heiser and his father."

"And that the area Heiser mentioned visiting with his father as a child was searched by everyone. Pavski, included."

"What about you?"

He nodded. "Me, too. Nothing."

"Maybe you missed something in the conversation with his father."

He shook his head. "I have the transcript if you'd like to read it."

"What about Heiser's father? Surely you talked to him?"

"No, I was on the run. It was nine months before I could get to Moscow to see him. By that time he was dead."

"How?"

He shrugged. "Pavski or the GRU. He was shot in a train station near his town. He was probably trying to run away. The poor bastard was no match for them. He was a professor of literature, for God's sake. But evidently he was killed before he was forced to tell what he knew, or Pavski would have the cradle."

Another death to be laid at the door of the cradle, she thought bitterly. "What about the contents of that package that Petrenko gave Pavski?"

"I haven't heard from Eugenia yet on it. She hasn't had much time since she got to Moscow. She'll get there."

"It's like chasing a will-o'-the-wisp," she said in frustration. "We don't know anything."

"And that's why we're not counting on finding it. Much better to go after Pavski directly."

She nodded. "I guess so. It's just that I want to be sure."

"And you like to be in control, and there's nothing certain about anything we're doing."

She nodded ruefully. "You probably feel the same way."

"But I've had to develop patience over the years. This meeting tomorrow is as close as I've come to getting him. So I'm not nearly as discouraged as you are. One step at a time, Hannah."

But every step was like walking on barbed wire. "I could use a few giant steps."

"I know." His hand reached out to cover her own. "I wish I could give them to you."

She looked down at his big hand enveloping hers. Her hand was not small, and more capable than attractive, yet it seemed fragile and very womanly in his grasp. She felt womanly. Her palm was suddenly ultrasensitive, and she could feel a tingling moving up her wrist and arm.

Jesus. Her chest was suddenly tight, and her breathing was becoming rapid, shallow. The pulse was pounding erratically in the hollow of her throat. What an idiotic response. For God's sake, he was just holding her hand.

She jerked her hand away. She tried to remember what he had been saying. "You're doing the best you can." She got to her feet. "It's just that I'm not at all patient." She started back toward the hotel. "I'm going to go back to the hotel and try to get to sleep. Coming?"

"No." He stayed where he sat on the sand. "I'll watch until you get safely back in your room from here. Lock your door."

"I always do."

She glanced back at him when she reached the hotel. His body language was relaxed and yet she was still aware of the alertness and strength that characterized his every movement.

Sometimes there's a stillness about him that's very erotic.

Eugenia again. Dammit, she didn't need to remember Eugenia's words about the explosiveness that lay beneath that deceptive stillness. She was entirely too aware of everything about Kirov.

He made a shooing motion as if to whisk her into her hotel room.

Bossy bastard.

She deliberately slowed her pace until she reached her door. Then she turned and gave him the finger.

Kirov chuckled with amusement as he watched the door close behind Hannah.

That last irreverent gesture was just what he would have expected from Hannah, and she never disappointed. In spite of her frustration and nervousness about tomorrow she still remained strong and intelligent and driven. What an amazing woman.

His smile faded as his gaze shifted back to the surf. He needed this time alone with the sea. It always brought him peace and clarity of mind. From the time he was a boy, he had come to the sea with his sorrows and his triumphs. The sea had tempered his arrogance and given him a sense of his own mortality. And, yet, it had created a web of power and challenge that could never be matched by any other experience. The sea had become his servant and his master, his lover and his enemy.

And being captain of the Silent Thunder had made him feel like a god from Olympus. Surrounded by power and able to loose lightning bolts.

Mythology, again.

Forget mythology, forget the cradle.

Just enjoy these moments of peace and rebirth before the chaos begins again.


BOSTON

3:35 A.M.


Get up, Ronnie." Cathy tried to keep the fear from her voice. "Get up, honey."

"Mom?" Ronnie sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. "It's still dark."

"We have to leave." She came into his room and took his gym bag out of the closet. "Please don't ask questions. Just get your sister out of bed and come back here. Don't scare her. Tell her it's a game we're playing. I thought it would be less frightening for her if you were the one who woke her."

"Game? What kind of-" He stopped as he saw her face. "What's wrong?"

"No questions. We'll talk later." She forced a smile. "Just do what I tell you, okay?"

He didn't speak for a minute. "Okay." Then he swung his feet to the floor. "What kind of game?" he repeated. "Should I keep her quiet?"

"If you can."

"I can do it. She'll think it's fun." He headed for the door. "I'll think of something."

Bless him.

She quickly finished packing his gym bag and ran to the window.

The street below was empty.

They weren't coming yet.

Or were they?

Headlights were spearing the darkness as a car turned the corner two blocks down.

Her heart leaped in her chest.

Oh, God.

She whirled, ran out of the room and down the hall to Donna's room. She'd whisk them out the basement door and maybe…

Christ, this couldn't be happening. Not to her kids.

"I'm trying to keep them safe, Conner," she whispered. "Help me…"


BAY COUNTY FARMERS MARKET


It's crowded for a weekday," Hannah commented, as she and Kirov pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the dozens of open-air stalls lining Atlantic Avenue. The area was mobbed with shoppers, each perusing the vendors' selections of fresh fruits and vegetables.

"Do you think Pavski's here yet?"

"I don't see him." Kirov shrugged. "But then again, I wouldn't. He won't show himself until he has to." His gaze was darting around the market, assessing every building, every car, every person, every square inch of the area.

Hannah watched him. "This obviously isn't a new experience for you."

"Finding myself in the same place with someone who wants to kill me as much as I want to kill him?" He smiled slightly. "Oh, I've been in this position a few times before."

"I haven't," Hannah said.

"Is it bothering you? If you want a reason beside revenge, you can add survival. Pavski has no compunction about killing anyone who stands in his way. You fill that bill nicely."

"Revenge is reason enough."

"I agree." Kirov pointed to Niler's Z-98, parked a hundred yards away at a lighthouse-themed restaurant. "There's Niler. I promised to let him finish his transaction before moving in. We'll leave just before Pavski and block his exit onto the main road. You stay in the car." Kirov opened his jacket to reveal an automatic handgun. "I'll do the rest."

This was real. She was actually going to help kill a man.

"If something happens to me, don't wait," Kirov said. "Get behind the wheel and take off. Call Bradworth as soon as you can."

"You mean if he kills you." Hannah's voice was shaking. "Bullshit. He's already taken years from you. If he takes what's left, he wins. Don't you dare be stupid enough to let him do that."

He smiled. "I'll make every attempt to keep myself from making that much of an ass of myself."

Niler spotted Kirov and Hannah across the parking lot, sitting in the front seat of their rental car.

Cool people, he thought regretfully. He respected Kirov, and he was beginning to have a yen for Hannah Bryson. Too bad their time together had come to an end.

His cell phone rang, and he answered. "Yo."

"I have a visual confirmation on Kirov and the woman. You may proceed."

Niler glanced around. Where the hell was the spotter calling from? The upper tower of the restaurant, perhaps?

The man spoke again. "Any questions?"

"No questions."

"Then take care of it."

"Will do."

Niler cut the connection.

He wasn't looking forward to this.

He lifted the tiny remote and stared at it. One press, one squeeze, and twenty-four ounces of plastique would incinerate Kirov and Hannah's car, and their lives would come to an end.

Shit.

He stared across the parking lot at Kirov and Hannah. When they woke up that morning, they had no idea that every activity would be their last. Their last cup of coffee. Their last shower. Their last meal.

He hated this. It was better to pass the devices to someone else and let them do what they wanted. He was an artist, not a killer.

Christ.

He fingered the remote. If he didn't do it, Pavski's men would come down and finish them off anyway.

Fucking Pavski. The bastard didn't even bother to show up himself.

Get it over with. He spoke under his breath, "Three… two… one."

He pushed the button.

Whroom.

The explosion rocked the entire parking lot, blowing out the windows of the restaurant and dozens of nearby cars.

Hannah gasped at the sight of Niler's vehicle flipping over and landing on its roof, instantly transformed into half a dozen piles of burning, twisted metal.

She stared in shock at the spot where Niler had sat only seconds before. "My God…"

Kirov started the engine and peeled out of the parking space.

Hannah whirled toward him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting away while we still can."

"But Niler is…"

"Dead. Blown to smithereens."

She felt sick. She shook her head dazedly. "What the hell happened?"

"Niler made that bomb. He meant it for us."

"What?"

Kirov checked the rearview. "I found it fastened to the underside of our car last night. I merely put it back where it belonged. If Niler hadn't tried to detonate it, he'd be alive and well."

"He just tried to kill us?"

"Surprised?"

Before Hannah could answer, the rear window shattered.

"Get down!" Kirov pushed her head forward. He slouched in his seat and glanced at the side mirror. "Two men in a black Lexus behind us." He muttered a curse. "I don't think either them is Pavski. That would have been too lucky."

He fished into his pocket and produced a key-chain remote identical to the one Niler had brandished in his bar the other night. "Here, take this."

Hannah grabbed the remote. "What's this for?"

Two more bullets hit their car and punctured the trunk.

Kirov accelerated as they neared the parking lot's exit. "Right before we get to the road, we'll cross a small wooden bridge. I need you to watch behind us and press the red button just as that car crosses it. Understand?"

She couldn't answer.

"As soon as you see the Lexus's front two wheels on the bridge. And only if there's no one else nearby. Okay?"

Hannah stared at the remote. She understood perfectly, and it wasn't okay. Push the button, kill two men behind her.

"If you can't stomach it, let me know now."

Hannah took a deep breath. She grasped the remote. "No. Keep your eyes on the road."

"Are you sure?"

A bullet whistled between them and cracked the front windshield.

Hannah glanced at the entrance ahead. "Is that the bridge you're talking about?"

"Yes."

"Okay." She glanced behind her. "They're closing. Put some more distance between us."

Kirov accelerated, and Hannah's eyes searched on either side for any bystanders. All clear so far.

They roared across the tiny bridge, rattling its wood slats beneath their tires. Hannah watched her side-view mirror. A man leaned out of the passenger side of the Lexus, snapping together what appeared to be an Uzi.

Christ. Better not screw this up.

Kirov spun out of the parking lot and headed toward the main road. "Ready?"

Hannah concentrated on the mirror. As the Lexus approached the bridge, its passenger aimed the Uzi. The next moment the car was on the bridge.

Hannah pressed the button.

A violent explosion took out the bridge and car, spraying wood and metal in every direction.

"Perfect!" Kirov hit the steering wheel with his palm.

Hannah turned from the burning rubble and let her hands fall into her lap.

"It wasn't perfect. It was lousy." Hannah felt sick to her stomach, unsure what was bothering her more: killing those two men, seeing Niler die, or just knowing that such an amusing, personable man had been so willing to kill her and Kirov. Any way she cut it, it had been a rotten sixty seconds. She took a deep breath. "And you need to explain to me what just happened."

"Not now." His gaze raked her face. "You need a little time to absorb this before I hit you with anything else. I'll put a little distance between us and Panama City, then we'll talk."

"I don't need-" Maybe she did need the space he'd mentioned. She was still shaking, and her mind was in chaos from the shock. She leaned back in the seat and folded her hands tightly on her lap. "Thirty minutes," she said curtly. "No longer."

Twenty-five minutes later he pulled into the parking lot of a Radisson Suites Inn and got out of the car. "Wait here. I'll get us rooms, and then we'll talk."

"Why can't we talk-"

He'd disappeared into the hotel before she could complete the sentence.

He was back in five minutes and opening her door. "I'm over your deadline, but I figured you'd like a little privacy, with the security of walls around you."

"Will those walls do any good? Will there be more of Pavski's men coming after us? Are we safe here?"

"I wouldn't have stopped if I hadn't thought we'd be okay. The walls are a comfort factor. I think you need it." He unlocked the hotel room. "Go and sit down. I'll get you a cup of coffee."

"You will not. I'm not an invalid." She ignored the easy chair and sat down in the chair at the desk. She needed the firm, upright structure of the piece of furniture. She needed structure, period. "But I'm bewildered and scared and sick to my stomach. I need answers."

"And you'll get them." He sat down on the stool at the coffee bar. "All you have to do is ask."

"When did you find the explosives under our car?"

"Last night. Actually, I've been checking every day since we made contact with Niler. I never completely trusted him."

"What gave him away?"

"Nothing. Actually, I liked him. I've just learned it's best not to trust anyone completely. After you fell asleep last night, I went down and found that he'd planted it on the undercarriage of our car. I recognized his work and simply returned it to him."

"Under his car," Hannah said. "Weren't you worried it would go off while you were moving it around?"

"It was a concern, but any car bomb is designed to withstand a lot of jostling until it's detonated. I saw the radio receiver and knew that he built it to be triggered remotely."

"You didn't tell me. So when you say that you've learned not to trust anyone completely, that obviously includes me."

"That's not true."

"Of course it is. Why didn't you tell me any of this last night? Or this morning?"

"I thought you wouldn't approve of my method of dealing with the problem."

She looked at him in disbelief. "Dealing with the problem. You mean blowing Niler to bits?"

"I know you liked him. I knew if I kept you out of the loop, there would be less guilt for you later."

"How thoughtful."

"Look, Niler blew himself up. He literally engineered his own fate. I'm guessing that he called Pavski soon after we met. He probably extracted a tidy sum in exchange for handing us over."

"And those devices he told us he was making for Pavski?"

"They were probably for one of his drug clients."

A trap. A trap from the very beginning. "Why couldn't he have just blown us up before?"

"He could have. I think Pavski just wanted positive confirmation with his own people present. He thought he'd killed me on two previous occasions." He frowned. "Dammit, I'd hoped that Pavski would come himself."

"Maybe he had other fish to fry. The cradle?"

"I don't know. I don't like it. Last night's call from Pavski was pure radio theater. I actually would have been less suspicious if Pavski hadn't agreed to the phone call. As I've said, he likes to insulate himself."

"Where did you get the explosives?"

"I paid a visit to Niler's workshop last night."

She stared at him incredulously. "That was stupid. You could have been killed. How did you get past his security systems?"

Kirov showed her a black box about the size of a cigarette pack. "I had this in my pocket when we went there with him. It's a radio-frequency code reader. When he deactivated the system, this box caught and recorded the frequencies from his remote. That's the reason I wanted to go out there. I thought that his tools of the trade might come in handy for us."

"You suspected him even then?"

He shrugged. "That's the world I live in, Hannah. Do you want me to apologize for not negotiating with you every step of the way?"

"Yes. I don't like to be left in the dark."

"Okay, I apologize. But I'd probably do the same thing tomorrow. This isn't you, and I like it that way."

"What isn't me?"

"The guns, the bombs, the killing. This isn't who you are."

"It's not you, either. At least it didn't used to be."

"You're wrong. I was raised to be a warrior."

"Being an officer on a sub isn't the same as blowing up cars. Before you went on the run, had you ever used a gun against someone? Had you ever killed a man?"

He shook his head.

"Our experiences make us who we are," she repeated the words he had once said to her.

"Then you've just lost your argument. I don't want you to become who I am." Kirov went silent for a moment. "I saw the look on your face when I talked about killing Pavski, and you knew it was actually going to happen."

"That was just because-"

"It was because you're human," he interrupted. "It's how you should feel. You might want to kill Pavski, but doing it in cold blood made you back away. I felt that way once, but I don't now. I don't want you to lose that piece of yourself. I want to shield you from as much of this as I can."

"It's not your job to protect me."

"No, it's my pleasure and my privilege," he said soberly. "And I'm not going to let you take that away from me."

"Kirov…" She shook her head. Part of her was frustrated and indignant, and part of her was experiencing a kind of emotional meltdown. How often had she been feeling this dichotomy of feeling for Kirov lately? Best to shy away from the personal while she was feeling this vulnerable. "What happens now?"

"We regroup and take a look at where we are and where we're going. Things have changed."

"What do you mean?"

"Pavski no longer needs you alive. He knew you'd be in that car with me. It doesn't matter to him anymore. I've been thinking about it ever since I found Niler's bomb. It bothered me because it shows that Pavski no longer believes you have any information that can help him. He might have an informant with the CIA, he might have decided we wouldn't be wasting time with the antique dealer or Niler if we had any knowledge he was lacking. Or he may have gotten another lead on the cradle from the GRU file he got. You were our best opportunity of drawing Pavski out, and it's gone."

"Then we'd better look for another opportunity."

"That's what I'm doing. On the other hand, we have Bradworth and the CIA. Aside from my feeling that they'd be much too lenient with Pavski, I think he has some informants in the Agency. I don't like to trust them with information that Pavski could use against me."

"So?"

"It's time we turned our disadvantages into advantages."

"How?"

"That's what we have to decide." His brows lifted. "I'm open to suggestions."

And she had nothing to suggest. Everything was moving too fast, and she had to digest what Kirov had told her before she could think clearly. She shook her head. "Believe me, I won't be shy about giving you input when I come up with something."

He smiled. "No, there's nothing shy about you. It promises well for other aspects of our relationship." Before she could answer, he stood up. "In the meantime, I'll give you breathing room." He headed for the door. "I'm right next door to you. If you want to talk, knock on my door. I'll order takeout and deliver your supper at six. Okay?"

"Okay."

He looked over his shoulder. "And don't dwell on this. It won't do any good. It's over." He grimaced. "That's no good. Wrong thing to say." He whirled, crossed the room, and fell to his knees in front of her. "Do what you have to do. Feel what you have to feel." He held her gaze with his own. "But what's happened hasn't changed what you are. If I could take it away, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I can't do that." His hand reached up and gently touched her cheek. "And I'm too much of a bastard to wish that you'd never come into my life. All I can do is tell you that I'll shoulder every burden you'll let me. I'll fight for you. I'll give you comfort." His finger traced the line of her upper lip. "I'll give you anything you want from me. Is that enough?"

He was barely touching her, and her chest was tight, and the intensity in the room was thick and charged. Charged with what? She knew he was trying to comfort her, and the comfort was there. Yet there was also the disturbing element that seemed always to be between them now.

He shook his head as he got to his feet. "It's kind of mixed up, isn't it?" He turned and strode toward the door. "My intentions were good. It just didn't turn out the way I-"

The door closed behind him.

She slowly got to her feet and moved across to the picture window overlooking the sun-baked beach.

Another beach.

Most of her adult life had been spent either on beaches like this one or on the oceans of the world. She would have been contented and happy to have spent the rest of her days doing the same job with the same people. Even thirty days ago she would never have dreamed that she would be thrown into this chaos.

She had killed two men today. She had watched a man whom she'd found amusing and likable die because he'd tried to kill her and Kirov. And she had taken another involuntary step closer to Kirov in the midst of all that turmoil.

Mixed up? Yes, her life, and her responses were on a par with the confusion of every minute of this day. She'd just have to ride it out until all the madness was over.

And when the hell would that be? she wondered wearily. She'd thought they were on their way to getting Pavski when they'd found Niler. Instead, they'd barely escaped with their lives and were back to square one. Kirov might not be discouraged, but she was tired of treading water. She needed to see-

Her cell phone rang.

Kirov?

She took the phone out of her pocket and looked at the caller ID.

She stiffened. A chill went through her.

Conner Bryson.

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