Her selfless warrior, p.22
Her Selfless Warrior, page 22
“No, you would have taken me to the police. There is no way the police could have saved me against these guys. Even though Rick told them I was out of town, they still went to my apartment.”
“What?”
Candy nodded. “I went home and I heard noises inside, like they were tearing the place apart. I had to run. So I called Dawn.”
Lark wanted to deny Candy’s words, but she couldn’t. She stepped forward and pulled her away from her sister, then wrapped Candy in a hug. “Please don’t ever disappear on me like that again. You scared the hell out of me. You’re my friend.”
Candy gave her a dazed look.
“It’s true, you are. You are one of my friends, Candy. Believe it. Please stay in touch. As soon as this is over with, I will get back in touch with you, I promise.”
“What will you do?” Candy asked.
“We’re going to stop them,” Lark said emphatically. “No more selling secrets, and the men who killed Rick will pay.”
“Do you promise?”
Lark pulled Candy in for another fierce hug. “On my honor.”
22
“A Waffle House?” Kostya asked for the fifth time.
“Quit your bitching and eat. This is the shit,” Gideon grinned.
“You’re from San Jose, California, they don’t have Waffle Houses there,” Kostya protested.
“Kostya, you’re sounding like a big baby, what is your problem?” Lark demanded. She was sitting in the booth across from him, next to Gideon. For the last hour, they’d been acting like long-lost friends. “Seriously, these are the best waffles on the planet, but it’s the sausage, egg, and cheese bowl that’s the real treat.”
Kostya looked at the congealed heart-attack-inducing heap in the bowl sitting in front of her and shuddered.
“I’m fine with my over-easy eggs and bacon.”
“Then for God’s sake, eat it,” Gideon said as he started in on his second waffle.
Kostya started eating, not even noticing what he was putting in his mouth, too astounded by the amount of, and type of, food that Lark was consuming.
“Dude, pay attention. We need to talk about the next steps,” Gideon said as he snapped his fingers in front of Kostya’s face.
“The next steps are that Lark is going to go home with me for a couple of days.”
“I am?” Lark’s head popped up and her fork stopped mid-air.
“You are. First, we’ll talk to the authorities. After that, the story can wait for a minute or two now that we know that Candy is safe. I want us to have a little time together. I want to show you where I live.”
“You mean you’re not all excited to see my little one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan?” she teased.
“Damn, girl, I thought your Mama was a gazillionaire.”
Lark grinned over at Gideon. “I’m pretty sure she’s a multi-gazillionaire. But as I’ve told Kostya, that’s her money, not mine. Therefore, I live in a one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan. But to be fair, I’m betting my apartment costs more than your house in Virginia Beach.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kostya.
“I wouldn’t take that bet if I were you, Lieutenant.”
“Lark?” Kostya asked quietly.
She put down her fork, pressed her napkin against her lips then rested her hand against the table, palm up. He grabbed it and tangled his fingers with hers.
“I would like nothing better than to see your house and spend some quality time with you, Lieutenant Barona.”
“Shit, I would have thought you’d all quality timed enough already.” Gideon was smiling despite his sarcasm.
“You’re just jealous,” Kostya said without heat. “Wasn’t the last time you quality timed was at Sebastian’s wedding? How is Jada Harlow? Have you been keeping in contact?”
When Gideon didn’t answer, Kostya forced his gaze away from Lark’s and looked at his friend. Gideon was frowning.
“What?” Kostya asked.
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
Gideon gave Lark a considering look, then shrugged his shoulders as if to say he trusted her. He set down his fork and leaned back against the booth.
“She’s young.”
Kostya nodded. “And?”
“I mean young. She’s twenty-four.”
Kostya laughed. “Serves you right for making fun of my age so damned often.”
“How old are you?” Lark asked.
“He’s thirty-seven,” Kostya answered for Gideon.
“So, I’m thirty-one. There are ten years between the two of us,” Lark said, tipping her head toward Kostya. “There’d only be thirteen years between you and Jada. What’s the big deal?”
“Think it through, Lark. Think about what you’ve accomplished in those seven years between twenty-four and thirty-one.” Gideon rubbed the top of his head.
“What about your feelings?” she asked.
“Feelings?” he asked.
Kostya snorted. Yep, that was his man, the techno geek.
“Yeah, emotions. You know, les passions,” she said the last two words with a French accent.
“Those are overrated. Well, maybe not the passion part. But she’s too young to toy with. What’s more, she’s Sebastian’s wife’s best friend.”
“What went on between you two at their wedding?” Kostya asked. He had a pretty good idea, but he needed to know to get the full picture.
Gideon glared at him. “It doesn’t matter. Look, this is a stupid conversation. Just let it go, okay?”
Kostya held up his hands, palms out. “You got it.”
“So what are we going to do about Lark’s little problem?”
“I’ll call Ryker tonight, then when we fly in tomorrow morning we can circle up. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Gideon said as he waved down the waitress.
Yep, the man sure did like his waffles.
Ryker was waiting for them at baggage claim. “I took the liberty of bringing your SUV, Lieutenant.”
Kostya scowled. “And how did you manage that?”
“I hot-wired it,” Ryker grinned.
“Dammit, that’s not good for the engine. I’ve told all of you to quit doing that.”
“The others don’t know how to do it right,” Ryker said as he led them toward the parking garage. “I have a light touch.”
“And here I was nice enough to put your Harley away before our mission. Last time I do you a favor,” Kostya grumbled. “Give me my keys,” he demanded as they walked up to his Bronco.
“I hot-wired it, remember?”
“For the love of God.” Kostya fished his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out a spare key, and glared at Ryker who now had his arm around Lark’s shoulders.
“How are you doing, beautiful?” Ryker asked Lark. “Are you going to make stripping your second career?”
“No, she’s not,” Kostya bit out. “And get your hands off of her.”
Ryker and Gideon laughed. Kostya took Lark’s elbow in a gentle hold and guided her to the front passenger seat.
“I can sit in the back, I have shorter legs.”
“No way. You’re sitting in the front,” Gideon stated. He opened the back of the Bronco and started throwing their luggage in.
“We’re going to my house,” Ryker informed them. “I have lunch set up. I want to hear everything.”
“In that case, swing by my condo, I want to grab my other laptop too,” Gideon told Kostya.
Kostya gave Lark a quick kiss, then shut her door and got into the driver’s seat. It was good to be finally driving his vehicle. By the time he made it in front of Gideon’s place, he felt settled. The smell of the ocean surrounded him along with the subtle scent of Lark beside him. Life was fucking perfect.
“Be back in a second,” Gideon said as he hefted his duffel out of the back and hot-footed it up the walk to his place.
“Are you going to fill me in?” Ryker asked as he leaned forward.
“Let’s wait until we get to your place,” Lark said. “Today is Amy’s day off; she’s been texting me for updates, so I want to call her up and put her on speaker.”
Kostya laughed at Ryker’s sour expression.
“She’s already played her part, why does she need to be involved?”
Lark looked at him curiously. “I would have thought you would have liked that idea.”
Ryker was slow in responding. “She hasn’t returned any of my calls, so yeah, normally it would be nice to hear her voice again. I just don’t want her wrapped up in anything dangerous, and something tells me that this is.”
“At least your close in age,” Kostya smiled at Ryker.
“Huh?”
“Don’t mind him,” Lark said as Gideon climbed into the car.
“Let’s get going, I have some ideas.” He tapped the back of Kostya’s car seat, and he started up his Bronco.
It took them forty minutes to get to Gideon’s, have him gather what he needed, then get back to Kostya’s bronco. Then it was twenty minutes to Ryker’s place, a small rambler.
“I’ve got steaks,” he said as soon as they got into the house. “The baked potatoes and corn are wrapped and they’re going onto the grill too. In the meantime, fill me in.” He opened his fridge, and handed out beers, then headed out to his back patio.
Kostya watched Lark easily fit into the situation. He’d seen her do that in every situation they’d been in and he loved that about her. No matter what, Lark could blend in.
“So?” Ryker asked as he lit the coals.
“Hold on, let me call Amy,” Lark said as she gave Ryker a sly grin. She pulled her phone out of her purse, put it on speaker, then set it down on the picnic table.
“Yo,” Amy answered. “You didn’t start without me, did you?”
“Yes,” Ryker answered. “It’s all figured out, you can hang up now.”
“Blow me,” Amy said.
Gideon, Lark, and Kostya laughed.
“No, we’re just starting to go over things. Some of them are up in the air,” Lark answered.
“Well, now you have me,” Amy said with satisfaction.
Kostya sat back as Lark started talking. First, she filled in Ryker and Amy about what they had found out from Candy.
“What about work? Hasn’t Sanofi done a welfare check on him? It’s been what, four weeks since he’s shown up to work,” Amy said.
“That’s definitely strange,” Ryker agreed.
“Aren’t you putting the steaks on a little early? You just put the potatoes on the grill.”
“My house, therefore my grill. No comments from the peanut gallery.”
Kostya rolled his eyes, then turned his attention back to Lark.
She’d brought her laptop in as well as her many notepads. It was damned cute how many pencils she had lined up. He and the other guys had smothered chuckles when she’d pulled out her electric pencil sharpener. At his question, Lark grabbed one of her notepads and started leafing through it.
Gideon looked up from his laptop. “I checked the employment records at Sanofi, and Rick’s down for short-term disability. Apparently, he had gallbladder surgery.”
Kostya watched with a smile as they all frowned. “Apparently, none of you have had to fill out paperwork on behalf of one of your employees. Schroeder must have phoned that in and handed it to HR.”
“Wouldn’t he be trying to get ahold of Rick?” Amy asked through the phone’s speaker.
“Definitely,” Lark answered. “What’s worse, I think that these men with accents might be visiting the other Sanofi employees. Gideon, can you check to see if any of the others have gone on short-term disability?”
Ryker flipped the steaks and Kostya’s stomach growled as they waited for Gideon to answer the question.
“Got it,” Gideon looked up from his laptop, his brown eyes gleaming. “Guy named Mel Stanley had a pretty traumatic skiing accident. It really fucked him up. Broken bones and lots of lacerations. He’s been in the hospital for two weeks. Then there’s Donald Harkins. Supposedly he was in a car with a friend, but he was thrown during the crash and the friend left him for dead and drove off. This was ten days ago. He’s not expected to make it.”
Lark shivered.
“Enough of this shit. I need to bring in my friend from the FBI. Rick Turner was in charge of engineers who were working for the Missile Defense Agency. I would bet my bottom dollar that whoever is doing all the killing and maiming is after code from that project.”
Kostya nodded as did his two men.
“Amy, honey, I’m going to have to cut this phone call short. I have to call Trevor over at the FBI. This can’t wait another minute.”
“Understood. Be safe, Lark. Make those idiots take care of you. Just because they’re all brawny military types doesn’t mean they have this in the bag. Especially any goof with the last name McQueen; that shit just sounds made up to me.”
“Listen here, pipsqueak—”
Lark cut the connection before Ryker could say anything more.
“Dammit, Ryker, I think I smell my steak burning,” Kostya grumbled.
23
Just walking up to Kostya’s house was a pleasure. Kostya took her in the side door and she got to appreciate the two-story home, with the cantilevered roof that extended out over a cedar deck at sunset.
“How often do you sit on this deck and drink a beer?”
“Not often. Now, if you want to know how often I savor a glass of whiskey, that’s another story,” Kostya said with a smile. He guided her through the door that led into the kitchen. She was met by warm granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.
“I have to ask again, how much does the Navy pay?”
Kostya chuckled. “I bought this house after my divorce. It was a real fixer-upper, but it had good bones. I’ve been working on it for years. It all came together last year.”
“Divorce?”
“Yeah, Debra and I split nine years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Kostya. Divorce is rough.”
He paused as he was opening the refrigerator. “It can be. But it was definitely the right thing to do, at least for me. Gideon pointed something out not so long ago, and I realized why we hadn’t worked out.” He opened the freezer. “I have homemade lasagna that I can warm up, how does that sound?”
“It sounds like a lot. The steaks at Ryker’s were more than enough.”
Kostya grinned as he closed the freezer. “What do you think of some fruit, cheese, and crackers?”
“That sounds wonderful.” She watched him start to pull things out of his refrigerator, then meandered to the big window overlooking the bay. This sure as hell beat her view back in Manhattan.
I wonder if he needs this? If it keeps him sane when he comes back from the field.
She grinned when she saw his bookcase. It was bigger than hers! She couldn’t resist checking it out. Lots of biographies on military commanders—no big surprise there—but seeing Mark Twain, Louisa May Alcott, and Jules Verne tickled the hell out of her. She looked back at the kitchen and saw that he was cutting something up, so she continued to peruse. On the bottom two shelves were books in Russian. She recognized some names, like Dostoevsky, Chekhov, and Solzhenitsyn but it was the very bottom shelf that caught her attention. She pulled out two tiny books, obviously well-worn children’s books. The first one had a cat on the front, and when she opened it up it showed the cat watching over a sleeping boy in his bed. It went on to show more animals with the little boy; there was even a picture of a rabbit playing the violin. When Lark looked closely, she could see that there were jam fingerprints made by a child on the cover. It was definitely a much-loved and treasured book.
The second book was for an older child because it was mostly text, but it showed two little boys on the front. One boy was carrying the other boy in the snow.
“What do you have there?” Kostya asked from behind her.
“Books,” Lark smiled up at him. “You must have read them as a child. She held them up. The one with a cat on the cover was on top.
Kostya smiled as he motioned for her to follow him to the couch. He set down a platter along with two glasses of wine.
“I remember that book. When Irina and I first came to America we were sent to a temporary foster family. There were lots of other kids. The people there were nice, but it was so different than what we were used to. Nobody there spoke Russian, and it seemed like forever before I could understand English. But one of the social workers who checked in on us found a couple of movies in Russian and that book in Russian to make me feel more at home.” He handed her the glass of white wine.
“There are two books,” Lark corrected him. “Here’s the second.” She pulled the book with the two little boys from underneath the other and handed it to him. “It doesn’t have any pictures. How old were you when you came to America? Were you able to read it?”
As Kostya took the book from her, his hands were visibly trembling. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.
Lark waited. He didn’t say anything more.
“Yes what?” she asked gently.
He traced the picture on the front. “I was able to read it.”
Kostya didn’t look up. He was staring at the book, not moving. It was eerie. She needed to get him talking.
“Did you read it to Irina?”
He shook his head.
She put her hand over his. “Honey? What’s the matter?”
He looked up at her, and his eyes were filled with more pain than anybody should ever have to feel. She gasped at the sight.
“Kostya, sweetheart. Talk to me.”
“I don’t know if I can,” he choked out. “I was weak. So weak. I failed him.” His voice trailed away. Again Lark waited for him to continue.
“Who did you fail?” Lark eventually asked softly.
“Roman,” Kostya whispered.
Lark tried to grapple with his answer. She knew he couldn’t be talking about his nephew; his nephew was fine. She looked down at the book in his hands.
