sent him on his way to recuperate away from here. We’re tracking him.”
“So you know where he is?”
The younger man nodded. “What he did put you in great danger, General. My superiors understand.”
“My man did a poor job of taking him out in Bulgaria. It will be harder here.”
“It will be cleaner here. You know we value you highly. But if something happens to him on his trip, no explanations will be needed from anyone. That’s how we all want it.”
The general put the dossier aside and went to stand at the window. “In Ukraine, the situation is very delicate. Now it is even more delicate because of this man.”
“I know.”
The general doubted the younger man knew even that much or had any real understanding of the complexities here. He was simply doing his job. “I will not trust this to anyone else. That failed last time. So this time you will get me close to him.”
The younger man hesitated. Apparently this had not been in his brief. “General, the risk...”
“There will be no risk. I am here on a diplomatic mission, yes?”
“But that won’t protect you if...”
“There will be no if. This man has threatened my life, my family, everything I have worked for. I must know he is taken care of, see it with my own eyes.”
After a moment of hesitation, the younger man agreed. “As you wish.” Clearly he had been told not to disagree with the general.
“I would expect no less. I have worked with you for many years, first from my position in the Russian army, and now in Ukraine. You owe me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The general smiled for the first time. “Soon we will resume our mutually beneficial relationship. Once I remove the traitor.”
Trace Archer hesitated on the porch. The address was correct, but he hadn’t been expecting such a large house. It rose two stories on a street that would be shady in the summertime, but on this cold March night boasted leafless branches. Probably close to a hundred years old.
In fact, he didn’t know what he had been expecting and wasn’t remotely certain what he was doing here. And even though an old friend lived here, he doubted he’d be welcomed.
As he was standing there hesitating, a woman popped out the front door. Covered by winter clothing, her figure was obscured, but in the porch light he couldn’t miss the long, shiny auburn hair, and when her gaze settled on him, he could tell her eyes were an unusual green, undimmed by the poor light.
“Well, hello,” she said, pausing.
He must be at the wrong place. John Hayes had shown him a photo of his wife once, and Ryker Tremaine had married her after John died. This woman didn’t match the photo at all.
“Sorry,” he said automatically, shifting a little to ease the everlasting pain in his arm and hand. “I must have the wrong house.”
He couldn’t mistake the appreciation in her eyes as her gaze swept over him. He wasn’t sure what she was appreciating, considering that, like her, he was wearing a heavy winter jacket.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said. “I don’t live here. Who are you looking for?”
“Ryker Tremaine.”
“Right house,” she said, then before he could respond she turned and threw the door open. “Hey, Ryker, you’ve got a friend out here.”
“Bring him in,” came a familiar but muffled voice from inside.
The choice taken out of his hands, Trace followed the woman inside, entering a warm, pleasant foyer. Gleaming dark wood surrounded him and a staircase led directly upward. It made him feel like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit the picture.
“I’m Julie, by the way,” the green-eyed woman said, stripping off her gloves and offering her hand. “Julie Ardlow.”
Trace shifted uneasily. He still wasn’t used to all the limitations of his injury and had to make a conscious decision to offer his gloved left hand to shake hers. He saw the way her eyes widened, then saw comprehension dawn. Well, it wasn’t as if he could hide it indefinitely.
Then he heard heavy footsteps from the back of the house, and Ryker appeared. Trace experienced a sense of shock. In all the years he’d known Ryker, never had he seen the man look this relaxed, and right now he had a faint smile around his mouth. As he saw Trace, that smile vanished, and he once again looked like granite.
“Well. I’ll be damned,” Ryker said.
“I can leave,” Trace replied. “I was just in the area...”
“No,” Ryker said slowly. “No. Julie, you still need to run?”
Julie looked between the two men. Trace could almost sense her calculating whether that was a dismissal or an invitation to stay.
“Yeah,” she said finally. “School tomorrow and all that. See you, Ryker. Nice meeting you, whoever you are.”
“Sorry,” he said. “The name’s Trace.”
She cocked her head a little, smiled slightly with a mouth that seemed to beg for a kiss, then headed back out the front door. Neither man moved until it closed behind her.
“I heard you were sidelined,” Ryker said. “Didn’t expect you, though.”
“No reason you should. I wasn’t expecting to show up here, either. If it’s a problem, I’ll leave.”
Ryker shook his head a little. “I’ll tell my wife you’re here and make some coffee. Just...no lies, okay? There’ve been enough of them.”
Trace didn’t have to imagine those. He lived them. But he did wonder what lies the man was expecting. Between them, there didn’t need to be any. When Ryker waved him into the living room, he unzipped his jacket partway with his good left hand, then sat on the battered burgundy gooseneck chair.
Seldom had he ever felt more out of place. What had brought him here, anyway? A desire to find out if life after the job was possible? Ryker seemed to be making it, but then it hadn’t been that long.
This whole house smelled of baby, he noted. Powder and sour milk. He almost smiled thinking of the huge transitions Ryker must be going through. Nothing about this would resemble being a field operative.
At last Ryker returned with coffee for each of them. “The baby’s been fussy the last couple of days. A cold. My wife’s going to try to catch some sleep, so it’s just us.”
That was fine by Trace. The devil of it was, he’d brought himself here and now didn’t have a damn thing
