The Spy Wore Red (10 page)

“Are you saying you have a flaw?”

“Oh, yes. I have a major flaw, one that Polax swept from my medical file before I was interviewed by his superiors.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Money. He’s always in need of money to fund his next invention. If he cleaned my file and I was accepted into Quest, then he would receive a substantial yearly allowance.”

“Who bought him off? Who wanted you inside EURO-Quest?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“So Polax agreed to put a double agent into his organization? And now that I know this I’m supposed to continue to work beside you, knowing that your loyalty is—”

“To the mission,” Nadja promised. “I give you my word that our goal is the same.”

“And I can sleep easy knowing you’ve given me your word, right?”

“Holic must die, Bjorn. On that we agree. And the kill-file must be recovered—otherwise our agents will die. Yours and mine.”

He snorted, his face a sour mix of emotions. “I should send your ass back to Prague on the next flight.”

“But you won’t. We made a deal, and you agreed to it.”

“Finish it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He was glaring at her, his blue eyes as cold as the weather outside.

“Let’s hope you’re a man of your word.”

“Let’s hope you’re a woman of yours, or I might just have to kill you before this mission is over.”

“Fair enough.”

“It has nothing to do with being fair. It’s about survival. The secret. I’m waiting.”

She was going to just say it. To come out with it and then… She raised her chin. “During my accident a major nerve was severed in my leg. That’s what I meant about some things can’t always be fixed.”

“But you’re here, and from the stats in your file—”

“The doctors who put me back together told my grandfather that I would never walk again. But Kovar wouldn’t accept that, so he decided that he would find an alternative.”

“What does that mean, an alternative?”

“He knew a scientist in Russia who was performing experimental surgeries on laboratory rats. He was having success reattaching severed limbs.”

“But your leg wasn’t severed.”

“No, it wasn’t. Which, I was told, was better. It made the risks more manageable.”

“You’re saying this rat scientist operated on you?”

“He had invented a nerve chip, and used it in over a dozen operations.”

“On rats.”

She heard the disgust in Bjorn’s voice, saw it in his eyes. “Kovar wouldn’t accept me living in a wheelchair. He wanted me back on my feet. Back on the slopes.”

“You could have died.”

“Several times. But without the use of my leg…” She shrugged. “I was a skier, after all. That’s who I was. I didn’t know how to do anything else. I thought, might as well be dead if I can’t ski.”

“That’s what he said, isn’t it? Your grandfather? He used that argument to get you to agree to the surgery, didn’t he?”

She had never had a choice to agree or disagree.

If you’re going to exist in a wheelchair you may as well be dead. I can’t look at you that way day after day. I won’t. You disgust me.

She could still hear the words, the tone in his voice. She turned away from Bjorn’s dead-aim gaze, the mix of emotions on his face making her more than a little uncomfortable. Why should he care what kind of surgery she’d had, or how risky it had been? She’d survived after all, so that was no longer an issue.

But he did care on some level; it was evident in the way he had flared at the very idea of having experimental surgery in a rat lab.

She turned and faced him. “My secret is I have a bionic nerve chip in my leg. It was implanted by the Russian in a research lab surrounded by caged rats. After the surgery was over, I stayed in Russia for another seven months.”

“Why so long?”

“My recovery took…time.”

“Meaning it took more than one surgery to get the damn chip to work?”

His tone was still the same, full of repulsion.

“Four surgeries to be exact,” she admitted. “My body kept rejecting the chip. And there was a problem with regenerating nerve impulses once the chip did accept its new home. There are these microelectrodes doing something terribly complicated that trigger nerve activity. I don’t understand all of the scientific jargon, or how it all works, but it doesn’t matter. All that’s important is that after months of therapy I was able to walk again. Then run and jump.”

“And ski?”

“No. I never skied again.”

“Why not? I thought that was the goal?”

“It was, but there was a problem. There had never been any research done on the chip’s effectiveness in cold weather. What we learned was that it works only under controlled body temperatures. Since returning to the slopes put me in an unstable environment, temperature wise, a comeback on the ski circuit was impossible.”

She watched as Bjorn’s eyes singled out the leg in question. Of course he would be curious. In his shoes she would be, too. But she still resented it. A ceramic-coated chip placed in and around the nerve was what was feeding her leg, the only thing keeping her on her feet. Without it she was a cripple.

“Okay, Odell, take a good look.”

She dropped the blanket to the floor, and stood naked before him. Slowly she brought her leg forward for him to examine.

Turning it outward so he could see that it was the same as the other one, with only one small difference—a two-inch thin scar on her inner thigh. She said, “Well, what do you think? The chip was there that night in Vienna. I kept up with you on the run, and later you had no complaints in the shower. My endurance matched yours. Tell me it didn’t.” On a roll, she said, “The question is, am I human or bionic? What do you say? Give me your expert opinion. I know you have one. A man like you has an opinion on everything.”

He reached her in three steps, picked up the blanket and wrapped it back around her shoulders, tucking her inside it with the same kind of gentleness he had offered her five years ago.

She was still fighting the emotional flux from his hands on her when he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She stayed there, and when he lowered his head, she angled hers back, knowing what was coming.

She let out a sigh when his lips covered her. Opened her mouth and let him taste her. Kissed him back. She felt his arm curl more firmly around her waist, bringing her forward against his hard body. He was thrusting his tongue now, sweeping her up and devouring her at the same time.

She could smell his skin, feel his body, feel his cock swelling against her.

The way he held her… Touched her…

It was too much, too potent and too full of old memories. She wrenched herself out of his arms. “You never told me what you think. How do you think of me, Bjorn? Does the nerve chip make me a bionic freak of nature?”

Bjorn let her go. He hadn’t meant to let things get out of hand. That she was even letting him kiss her spoke of how vulnerable and confused she had to be. And the question she had asked confirmed that vulnerability. She shouldn’t give a damn what he thought about the nerve chip. It’s what she thought that was important.

“Go to bed. You need to get some sleep.” He started for the door.

“You didn’t answer me. Bionic or human?”

He grabbed his jacket.

“Bjorn, don’t walk out.”

He walked, taking the stairs two at a time once he got through the door. He needed to get some air, but the minute he stepped out into the blowing snow he wished he’d stayed. Wished he’d answered her.

Bionic or human?

The nerve chip was the reason she was on her feet. The very idea took him aback. She’d been an experiment. An experiment that had come about because Kovar Stefn couldn’t abide defeat.

He wanted to hate her grandfather for that, for putting Nadja through hell, but on the heels of that thought came a very damning, selfish feeling of relief. Relief that the rat scientist had been multitalented and hadn’t given up the first time or the second and third. That the result had been Nadja back on her feet. That Kovar had been arrogant and connected enough to go looking for an alternative.

Kovar is well connected.

And wealthy, Bjorn thought. Wealthy enough to buy Polax.

You’re a double agent. For who?

I can’t tell you that.

Bjorn leaned against the building and puffed hard on his cigarette, welcoming the nicotine into his lungs as well as the cold air.

I have a bionic chip in my leg. Bionic freak, or human? Don’t walk out.

He lit up another cigarette, then had two more.

You’re a double agent. For who?

He made a second call to Jacy and got him out of bed.

“I know I just called a few hours ago, but do you have anything for me?”

“I got a little. Nadja’s parents are dead. A car accident that took them both at the same time. She’s the youngest of two children. She’s got an older brother.”

“That’s right. His name’s Ruger.”

“She and her brother moved in with the grandfather after her parents died. After that she started skiing, and got damn good at it. Kovar Stefn owned a home in Langenfeld—then he bought an old lodge near Zell am See. He tore it down and built a fancy place called—”

“Groffen?”

“That’s right. Pretty plush place from what I can tell on their Web site. Had to cost a bundle to build. Which put me on the money trail, but it turned cold right away. Something’s up with that, though, because Kovar Stefn wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth. So that brings up the question, where did he get the money to build a multibillion-dollar ski shack?”

Bjorn tossed his cigarette. “I think Holic Reznik’s at Groffen.”

“At Groffen? Why would he be there? The information I have pinpoints Otz as his likely destination. He’s supposed to have a wife somewhere around there. That’s kind of crazy, too. We’ve got a name, but nothing else.”

“Mady?”

“That’s it,” Jacy confirmed.

“She’s moved to Groffen with her daughter.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve got a smart partner,” Bjorn said. “Anything else on Nadja?”

“She disappeared soon after the accident. I can’t find any info on her during that time. It’s like she vanished.”

“I know where she was. What else?”

“Three years later she resurfaces. But she’s no longer the sweet-faced darling who ran the ski circuit for ten years. She’s packing heat and working for EURO-Quest. Her kill record is the best in her field. I tapped into Quest’s computers and found out that she disappeared once more. This time for about a year. In the file it states she was captured by an anarchy group, but there’s no follow-up. No information on whether she escaped or was released.”

“When was that?”

“About four and a half years ago.”

The first disappearance Jacy spoke of had to be when Nadja went to Russia to get the nerve chip implant. But where was she the second time? Had she been captured and held prisoner, or had she made up that story because she needed to return to Russia? Had her disappearance involved a problem with the chip? Five years ago she’d been on a mission in Vienna. That meant she’d gone missing shortly after they met.

“What did you find out about Polax?” Bjorn asked.

“He’s been involved with some costly projects. He’s always over budget. But as far as I can tell he’s loyal to Quest.”

“Check and see how Kovar Stefn and Lev Polax might know each other. And see if you can hunt down Nadja’s brother. He’s gone missing. She says at least eight months. He was a priest in Innsbruck at Wilten Parish. Start there.”

“I’ll check back with you as soon as I have something concrete.”

Bjorn hung up, then headed back inside. He was exhausted and cold. He shook off a chill, or maybe it wasn’t a chill at all.

Maybe it was his sixth sense working overtime.

Chapter 10

“T
he operation is over, Adolf. There were some surprises. I told you I wouldn’t sugarcoat anything. You waited too long to have the surgery. The tumor was getting damn comfortable. Setting down roots, as they say. That’s why you were in the operating room half the day. You’ve already been through two stages in the recovery room, and you’re doing fine. You’re back in your room now, and you’ll be fading in and out. That’s normal.”

Merrick tried twice to speak but his words came out sounding ugly and unclear.

“Don’t worry about your speech. That’s normal, too.” Paul touched Merrick’s arm. “Don’t worry, pal. At this point I’m not seeing anything to be alarmed about. You’re in good hands. I’ll check in on you in a few hours.”

When Paul stepped back, Merrick saw Sarah. He didn’t know why she was there, or who had called her. Still, he was glad to see her. Maybe he had asked her to come. No, he hadn’t asked. He knew what he’d asked of her. To see to Johanna’s roses.

She had a tissue balled up in one hand, and her cheeks were watery. They were a deep emerald green, and he realized that he had never noticed that before now. She also had petite pink lips, a small nose and silky brown hair that reminded him of how Johanna had worn her hair over the years. Simple yet elegant is what he had always thought. Only his wife’s hair had been as black as midnight and as shiny as a new penny.

Sarah wasn’t Johanna, but she was beautiful. A slender woman in her mid-thirties who had never married, and had worked only in her father’s flower shop.

They had never spoken beyond chatting about the weather and Johanna’s roses. But now she was here and she was crying.

Crying for him.

He watched her reach for an ice chip from a cup on the portable stand next to his hospital bed. After touching his lips with the ice, she coaxed him to open his mouth and then slipped the chip inside.

“You’re going to be all right, Adolf,” she said softly. “I know that. Dr. Paul has an excellent reputation. He says you’ll pull through because you’re too stubborn not to. I know you can be very determined, and in this case that’s a good thing.” She touched his arm. “Enough talk from me. What you need is sleep, so close your eyes and don’t worry about anything. I’ll see to what’s important to you. I’ll see to Johanna’s roses.”

It was dark except for the glow of the fireplace when Bjorn returned to the loft. Nadja was in bed, and he was glad for that. He didn’t want to talk anymore.

What he needed to do was think.

He stripped off his coat, then his sweater and jeans. He ached to sit in the tub, and managed without getting his thigh wound too wet. Several times he glanced over to the bed, but Nadja hadn’t moved. She was exhausted, he knew, and it was best if she slept straight through till morning. Better for her and for him.

He located his duffel bag and removed his shaving kit. He pulled out his razor and a hand mirror and carried them to the fireplace. With the aid of a small table lamp, and with a towel clinging to his hips, he scraped off the stubble on his chin, then put the kit back in his duffel.

He returned to the fireplace to toss another log on the glowing hot coals, and became lost in thought after that—until he heard the mattress squeak. When he turned around he found Nadja on her back, the comforter on the floor, and the sheet draped lower along her stomach.

He let himself look, let himself remember what it was like to touch her—to feel her around him, and have her scent brand his skin.

She shifted again and the sheet moved lower. He focused on the tattoo, again questioning the feminine design. He suddenly felt her gaze on him and he locked eyes with her.

Caught in the act, he said, “Sorry.”

She sat up slowly, slid her long legs off the bed. Standing with the sheet shielding her naked body, she said, “I shouldn’t have told you. I thought…”

“What did you think?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted someone else to know the truth. Someone outside my circle.”

“You’re no freak, Nadja. You’re a beautiful woman. Sexy as hell.”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

As much as he wanted to recreate what they’d had in Vienna it would be a mistake. “You know I want to.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

She dropped the sheet.

“It would be a mistake to let this go any further.”

“Would it really be a mistake? If you think so then you’re not remembering Vienna in the same way I remember it.”

“You were the one who left, remember?”

“Yes, I did leave. Actually, I ran. I had never—”

“Never what?”

“Felt so frightened. It was amazing…us. Frighteningly amazing.”

Yes, they had been amazing together. All he had to do was close his eyes and he was there again, back in Vienna in that shower, succumbing to the power…the power of Nadja Stefn taking him someplace he’d never visited before in his life.

Every man fought against
it,
hoped that he would never feel
it
—that moment when he knew he was caught. Not just physically, but emotionally as well.

“It was too much, you know,” she whispered as she came toward him. “And then…”

“Not enough,” Bjorn finished.

She stopped six feet from him. “I had never made love for the sake of making love until that night. And not since. You can believe that or not.”

“Are you saying I’m the only man alive who knows what you like?”

His words sent her eyes past him to the fire. “It’s true—all the others are dead.”

“So I should feel lucky that you ran that night…otherwise I would be dead?”

She looked at him. “You mock me.”

“No, I don’t.” The idea that he was the only living man who knew her intimately turned him on more than he had been already. “Honestly, I like the fact that all the other men are dead. I just can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you had stayed.”

“I would never have killed you.”

“Because I wasn’t a target.”

“No, you weren’t my target, but at the time I didn’t know if I was yours.”

That news surprised him.

Like him, she had recklessly gotten caught up in the moment. The truth was, he had been so crazy to have her that night he’d been downright stupid. Careless.

Honestly, he couldn’t guarantee that he would have been quick enough to stop her if she had raised a gun to him.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Are we talking about Vienna or tonight?”

“I’m talking about tonight, before you walked out. Don’t say you don’t know. A man like you always knows why he does what he does.”

“I kissed you tonight because I was curious.”

“Curious?”

“I wanted to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?”

“That I was remembering everything clearly. Or if I’d embellished Vienna over the years in my mind.”

“And?”

“And it felt good to be there again.”

“You could feel better than good. Want to? We could use the bed this time.”

Bjorn smiled. “I know I said I would have you before this mission was over, but I’ve rethought that. I think one too many times could be the death of me.”

She moved back to the bed, swept up a blanket and wrapped it around her. “Then it bothers you?”

“Bothers me? What are you talking about?”

“What I am. You didn’t know what business I was in that night, but you do now. Having trouble rising to the challenge?” She looked over her shoulder, lowered her eyes to the towel wrapped around his waist. “No, it doesn’t appear to be a problem. You’re physically aroused, but in here—” she tapped the side of her head “—are you disgusted by what I am? Or is it the leg?”

“I’m not disgusted, and I don’t have a problem with the chip being the reason you’re on your feet.”

She didn’t look like she believed him. It was important that she did. Bjorn closed the distance and turned her to face him. “This isn’t why I chose you for this mission.”

“I chose the mission,” she reminded him. “I forced your hand, remember?”

She took one of his hands and slipped it inside the blanket. Bjorn moaned and pulled her to him. She went willingly, let go of the blanket and fused herself to him, crushing her full naked breasts to the warm wall of his bare chest.

He bent and covered her mouth, kissed her slow and deep. Then deeper still. She opened her mouth. He used his tongue.

He felt her nipples like hot stones where they touched him. He heard himself groan low in his throat, and with his surrender, she in turn surrendered.

It was happening again, so much heat and pent-up need that neither could break the force that claimed them.

“Don’t stop,” she sighed, shuddering violently when he backed off to catch his breath. “Please don’t question this. Don’t make me beg. Touch me.”

It would be his pleasure to touch her. In touching her, she touched him. She didn’t realize that, but it was the way it worked with her. She had the power.

He had the power to make her lose control. One kiss. A single stroke of his hand. It had worked that way in Vienna, and it was the same here. There was just too much going on between them, underneath the surface, to back away.

He dipped his head and sent a dozen kisses along her jaw and down her neck, and Nadja felt weak in his arms. Weak and strong at the same time. How did he do that?

She snuggled closer, tugged off his towel and worked her body against his cock, gyrating her hips. Making him moan, and catch his breath.

“We’re going too fast,” he said, then lifted her.

Nadja curled her legs around his waist, and he slid inside of her. He was pumping hard and fast before they reached the bed.

“Let it come,” she sighed as he began to climax after a solid thrust.

“Can’t stop.”

“Don’t try.” Nadja curled herself around him and drew him in deeper. Holding him there.

But it was only the beginning. They both knew it.

Both knew they needed sleep, but they needed each other more.

Besides, there would be time to sleep. The storm that had caused Bjorn and Nadja to seek shelter at Nordzum was about to stall over the Kitzbuheler Alpen.

But for now the storm was the last thing on Nadja’s mind. She lay watching Bjorn sleep, putting to memory all they had shared throughout the night. Enjoying a chance to stare at his handsome face and study his rugged features.

She liked his hair. Liked that it was longer than that of most men she knew. She decided that his looks fit his lovemaking. It was edgy and challenging. Addicting. It’s what set him apart from all the other men. No man touched her like Bjorn. He knew every spot on her body that wanted to be touched.

To speak of love was foolish, so she wouldn’t. But she had never felt anything remotely close to the way she felt in this man’s arms. So if love was real, then, yes, maybe this was love that she was feeling. But she wasn’t going to examine it any more than that. It was too fragile. Too dangerous.

She sat up and straddled him. He stirred and as he began to grow aroused, she angled her body to envelop him. When he felt her and opened his eyes, saw her astride him, he arched his hips, seating her deeper.

“You’re not afraid I have a gun under the pillow?” she whispered.

“No. But if you do, and you plan on using it, wait a bit. This feels too good to be cut short.”

He smiled and she saw no fear in his eyes. No need to check beneath the pillow.

“How’s your leg?” she asked.

“Fine. How’s yours?”

“The circulation has definitely improved. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He fastened his eyes on her breasts. “You look good riding.”

“Men like to see jiggling breasts, and enthusiasm.”

“And am I about to see both?”

She began to move on him. “Yes.”

“Lucky me.”

“We shouldn’t be able to do this again. It’s unnatural.”

“Who says it’s unnatural?”

“Three times in three hours?”

“With the right partner anything is possible. Didn’t you know that?”

Nadja had never believed in destiny. She had always believed that a person made their own fate. But if it was true, if people came into your life for a specific reason, then she knew why Bjorn had entered hers.

His hands slid over her thighs and she came out of her musing.

“Where did you go, honey?”

“Nowhere.”

“You sure?” He gripped her hips, pulled her forward. Back.

Nadja didn’t answer, she couldn’t. Bjorn was touching her again, and she simply couldn’t think past that.

“You were born in Copenhagen?” Nadja asked the next evening.

“I think so, but I’m not sure.”

They were seated in front of the fireplace on the fur rug, wrapped in blankets. Outside the snow continued to fall, and there was no way they were going to be able to leave Nordzum until it let up. Bjorn had been listening to the weather reports, and it sounded like the storm was expected to stall out for another twenty-four hours.

“You’re not sure where you were born?”

“I don’t remember much growing up except that I hated the orphanage I was in. Later, once I was on my own, I was preoccupied with trying to stay warm and fed.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bjorn studied her. They had been breathing each other’s air, cooped up in this room for two days straight. He knew her body inside and out, and she knew his just as well. They were connected now, in a way that he’d never been connected with anyone. And yet it felt too new to be comfortable. In many ways they were still strangers.

“You must have been lonely.”

He didn’t answer her, though it was true, he had been lonely as a boy, and as a man, too. It was a kind of comfort zone for him—what he knew.

“How did you survive it?”

“Eventually someone took me in.”

“How old were you?”

“About twelve. I ran away from the orphanage at seven. With two other kids. They were a little older. We lived on the streets together. Looked out for one another.”

He didn’t like talking about how he’d existed in Copenhagen. It had been hell on the streets, but it hadn’t been much better at Anna’s place. He’d seen more and done more in her whorehouse than any kid ever should. And that’s why he would never judge Nadja and what she’d done to stay on her feet. At least she had a cause behind who and what she’d become. For him it had been totally self-serving.