Bogatyris and handed it to Vanko, then lit it for him.
“The guard—”
“Forget the guard.” Potereiko waved his arm dismissively and opened the trunk of the Volga. As the lid opened, a light came on inside. “Let’s see it.”
“Ah, Colonel.”
“I want to make sure it’s what you say, Vanko.”
“Would I try to cheat you?”
“You’re already trying to get a few extra rubles for the greedy guard. Open the case.” Potereiko stood back, hands in his pockets, cigarette dangling from between his lips.
Vanko flipped a pair of latches, not unlike a briefcase, and carefully raised the lid, exposing a neatly machined panel containing an array of readouts and switches, barely visible in the dim trunk light. “You can set a code to open it. Here.” Vanko indicated a spot near one of the latches on the inside of the case.
Edward moved closer and peered in. “Ah, yes. I remember when we were designing these.” He reached out a hand and caressed the panel, almost fondly. “We were going to destroy the Americans.” He closed the case, then the trunk.
“Those were the days, eh, comrade?” Vanko said.
Potereiko puffed on his cigarette, regarded the hot ember, then dropped the butt and ground it out with the sole of his shoe. “There’s much more opportunity now,” he said.
“Speaking of opportunity…” Vanko puffed his own cigarette, hands in his coat pockets, gloves tucked beneath an armpit.
“Of course. The money.”
“I had to give the guard an extra fifty rubles.”
“Let’s see,” Potereiko said as he reached inside his coat. He pulled out a pistol.
Vanko’s eyes widened and he backed up a step, pulling his arms from his pockets, gloves falling to the ground. “What is this?”
“This is a Smith & Wesson .38-caliber Police Special,” Potereiko said calmly. “Made in America. New Jersey, I believe. Nice, is it not?”
“Edward… Colonel… Please.”
“You are a symbol of all that’s gone wrong with the Soviet Union, Vanko. And a petty thinker, to boot.” In one smooth motion former Colonel Edward Potereiko raised the weapon and fired, striking Vanko in the forehead. As the roar of the gun died, his face, only slightly marred by the entry wound, took on a startled look. The cigarette fell from his lips, lodging on his heavy coat before he fell backward.
Potereiko put the gun back inside his coat and checked his watch. He still had fifteen minutes to get back to the border, and it was only six or seven miles. He was, in fact, far more concerned with the nearly six thousand miles he’d have to drive in the next week. He stepped over Vanko’s body.
“Das vadanya, comrade.”
Chapter Four
Jenny turned away, unable to look at Nick. God, had she made it all up? Had this man ever truly been kind to her?
She ran her hand over the cold relief of a standing screen, her fingers tracing the edges of a reclining jaguar as she ran through a dozen quick memories, Nick gentle in all of them. He’d been tough in front of Todd and Sweet, of course, but when they’d been alone…
She remembered the first time he’d kissed her. They’d been in her bathroom, of all places, standing by the Jacuzzi. He’d found a narrow window where Todd’s hidden cameras couldn’t see, and he’d led her there, positioned her just so. They’d had to whisper, although the sound of the bubbling water had masked their voices. And in that tiny space of freedom, that narrow gap between the nightmare of her life and the promise of something too good to be anything but a dream, he’d caressed her hair with trembling fingers, searched her gaze for secrets, then leaned down and touched her lips ever so softly with his own.
He’d lingered there, just brushing lips to lips, breathing his breath into her, filling her with desire. He’d been patient, maddeningly so, and finally she’d been the one to deepen the kiss, to open her lips and take a forbidden taste of this man who was her protector and her prison guard.
He’d moaned, so loudly she’d been afraid, but then the fear didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but his arms around her, the hard warmth of his chest, his tongue doing wicked, wonderful things that made her forget reality.
It had only lasted a few minutes. A few precious, dangerous minutes. But in that time, she’d felt a connection that had given her the strength to do the unthinkable. She’d decided, at that moment, when she couldn’t distinguish between his breath and hers, that she would escape. And that someday, when they were both free of the monster in the other room, they would meet again.
The man behind her bore no resemblance to the man in her mind’s eye. They looked the same, but they were complete opposites when it came to the heart.
What had happened to him? Was being around Todd enough to kill that humanity? She closed her eyes. Of course it was. If she’d stayed, who knows what would have happened to her? What was of much more concern now was what would happen to her baby. How could he ever come out of this unscathed?
“What did he tell you?”
She turned to face Nick again, hardening herself against the cool disdain in his gaze. “I have to dress. Go back to him.”
“Then, what are you waiting for?”
He was actually more beautiful when he was like this. When his lip had that hint of a sneer and his eyes burned right through her. But she knew better than anyone that beauty was nothing. A trap. A web.
Without giving him the satisfaction of an answer, she headed for the bedroom. Todd wanted her hair down. She’d have to wear full makeup, which she hadn’t done since the day she’d left him. And wear the awful lingerie that was sure to be in her dresser.
The bedroom, as large as her living room and kitchen combined, had been redecorated in the same motif as the rest of the suite. The four-poster was swathed in sheer white drapes, the posts themselves sturdy brass. Looking at the bed made her stomach clench as other memories came back, piling in her head like a car wreck.
When they’d first met, Todd had been a perfect gentleman. He’d courted her with respect, giving her all the time she’d needed to make her decisions. Even after they’d made love, he was patient, showing her a side of him she knew now to be a complete charade.
Only when she was well and truly trapped did he come out, show her his true colors. Sick colors. His cruelty became masterful in the bedroom. What he’d done to her, made her do…
She took a deep breath as she thrust the thoughts from her consciousness. Striding to the closet, she flung open the doors, determined to think of nothing but the task at hand.
The wardrobe was far sparser than she’d imagined. Half a dozen dresses, another half dozen negligees. High heels, of course, and gaudy accessories. Furs, jeweled handbags. Not her taste, not her style. They made her feel cheap, despite their astronomical price tags.
She
