The Spy Wore Red (16 page)

Chapter 16

N
adja slipped back into her suite and headed for the bedroom. She was guiding herself through the dark, sidestepping the furniture from memory, when a light next to the sofa switched on.

“I thought you weren’t going to run.”

“I returned Alzbet to her own bed.”

“Whose kid is she, Nadja?”

She hesitated, then followed through with her plan. “She’s Ruger’s little girl. My brother’s child.”

“The priest had a kid?”

“Yes. And I don’t need to hear any crude comments, so keep them to yourself if you have any.”

He stood and came toward her. He was in the suit pants he’d worn to Two Winters, but he’d taken off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it loose. His hair was again down and made him ruggedly handsome.

“You’ve been his confidante through this, haven’t you?”

“Yes.

“That’s why when he stopped writing those letters you got so worried.”

“Yes. But I don’t want to talk about any of that now.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

Nadja wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I don’t want to talk at all,” she said in a soft seductive voice.

He kept moving forward, and it forced Nadja to either stand her ground or back up. She took a few steps back and, when she felt the wall against her spine, she said, “Now what? What are you going to do to me? Will I like it?”

“You have before.”

“I can’t deny it.” And she wouldn’t, not tonight. “You want to kiss me?”

“You know I want to kiss you.”

“While I touch you.”

“That would be…nice.”

She smiled. “Nice?”

“I’ve decided I like your word for us.”

Us.
Nadja steeled herself against reading too much into that word. If Bjorn ever learned the truth about Alzbet he would…

He would what? Hate her? Punish her? Take the child? Or maybe all of it and more. Maybe he would want her dead.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. The mission has had delays and setbacks, but now I think we’re on the right track. Holic’s here, we just have to—”

“We’ll strategize tomorrow. You were right, the other agents hunting Holic are combing the mountains of Otz. We’re at least two days ahead of them now. We have time.”

“And the shooter, who do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. That’s been a concern, but since there hasn’t been an incident for five days, I’m thinking we might have lost him in that snowstorm.”

“And the wounds…” Nadja reached out and lightly touched the small bandage on Bjorn’s neck. “How is this?”

“Almost ready for the stitches to come out.”

“And your thigh?”

“Good. But I do have a growing pain a few inches to the left.”

Nadja arched an eyebrow, feigned worry. “Oh? Would you like me to take a look?”

He came closer, crowded her space. “I’d like you to do more than look. You mentioned something about touching me while I kiss you.”

She let him kiss her then, as she slid her hands inside his open shirt and to the back of him. He was such a strong sturdy man, so solid. That had been one of the attractions. She’d never been able to lean on anyone, but somehow she knew it would be different with Bjorn.

No, it could have been different if they had met in another lifetime.

She let him coax her mouth open. His tongue was so very…nice. His hands moved over her hips, drew the sweater dress up an inch at a time. The heat from his mouth was potent, and his hands on her body were making her hot.

Each time he touched her it was new and exciting, and she marveled at that.

She forced him to step back as she worked his belt loose, then unzipped him. When he broke the kiss, she sent her mouth over his jaw. Then to the bandage, lightly touching it with her lips, as she slid her hand into his pants to touch him there.

She heard him exhale heavily, and she smiled. He was already hard and stretched. She brought her eyes up to his face, and that’s when he said, “You really are amazing, you know. And I’m not just talking about this. The sex.”

She wasn’t going to buy into that line. She knew from past experience that men said anything when their pants were on the way to the floor. Men were all about getting off—it was at the front and at the back of everything they said and did when they were in a woman’s company.

She said, “That’s what they all say, baby, but thanks anyway. At least I know I’m not slipping.”

She had said the wrong things, and she knew it the minute the words came out of her mouth. He pushed her away and stepped back, but then suddenly he was back, pushing her against the wall hard and fast.

“You know, honey, that isn’t what I wanted to hear right now. You—”

“Bjorn, you’re hurting me. Let go.”

He didn’t let go, but he loosened his grip. “No more talking. You didn’t want to talk so we won’t. We’ll just fuck, since that’s what you’re used to.”

“No!” She tried to shove him away, but he held her against the wall and kissed her roughly. Suddenly he stopped, swore and stepped back.

“Bjorn…”

“I’m out of here.”

“No, please…”

He turned back. “Please what?”

She stepped forward, put her hands on his smooth warm chest. “I’m sorry. It was a defensive thing. What I said. I—” She broke off and lowered her head.

He reached out and cupped her chin, lifted. “Look at me.” When she did, he said, “Tell me what you want. It’s that simple.”

It wasn’t simple at all. “You’re the profiler,” she said. “You tell me.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“I want…heaven. I want the butterflies.”

“Butterflies?”

“The butterflies I didn’t believe existed until that night in Vienna. Release the butterflies, Bjorn. Consume me.”

She didn’t give him time to answer. She slipped away from him and wiggled out of her dress, leaving her in black panties and nothing else. Her gaze found his and she knew in that moment that she had him, had him all the way.

And that was the plan, Nadja told herself. She was on top of the game as always, doing what she’d been trained to do. At least that’s the way she had to play out tonight. The only way she could play it.

Life wasn’t fair, but she’d learned that by the age of ten. Her heart’s desire didn’t enter into this game. There was no room for luxuries such as love and wishful thinking. She would make another memory, and that would have to be good enough.

Nadja savored the taste of Bjorn all night and then again in the shower the next morning. And by evening she was again dressed to kill and on the hunt for Holic Reznik, in the most likely place he’d be if he was at Groffen.

Nadja took the back stairs, whispered a single word to the lean-faced guard, then watched as he opened the door into the decadent underground club. She swept her red shawl from her shoulders, handed it to him, then smiled as his eyes widened and his cock stiffened.

“I guess I wore the right outfit,” she said, then strolled into the club dressed in a naughty red see-through fishnet dress.

She felt anxious. After last night she realized that she couldn’t continue to play such a dangerous game with Bjorn. He was too smart to deceive for very long, and that meant they needed to get this mission in the bag and get out of Austria. Once he was far away from Groffen, she would decide what to do about Alzbet. With Gerda gone, she had time to make plans for her daughter.

Inside After Shock she saw that nothing had changed. The lights in this first room were the same diffused purple that she remembered, with the same famous smoky mist rising off the floor. The atmosphere was what had made the club famous. It was all about the mood—and that had been created with an unusual colored mist that changed from room to room.

Soft erotic music floated on the air as Nadja walked deeper into the room. Her steps were as seductive as her appearance, and she fit in easily. The people inside were beautiful, and smiling.

This particular room was the warm-up room, where introductions were made and the nature of your desire and expectations were explored. There was a full bar and intimate tables. Plush couches and a dance floor. The furniture was soft on color and expensive on comfort, inviting you to relax and stay…all night. And beyond the purple room, a dozen other rooms existed, designed to fulfill your every shocking fantasy.

She hadn’t spoken to Bjorn since that morning when he’d left her suite saying he was going to check out the chalets up on Tulay Pass. It had been too cold for her to go with him, and he’d mentioned it before she had. She wasn’t worried that he hadn’t returned yet. There were several chalets along the pass and it was a job that would take more than one day, though he had told her he would be back tonight. When she didn’t find Holic in the first room, she moved on to the next. It was circular with a built-in plush butter-cream-colored sofa that outlined the continuous wall. Lap dancers were hard at play everywhere, their practiced moves slow and grinding. Potent and infectious. She scanned the crowd to see if Holic was among the guests seated on the sofa. Searched the shadowed faces.

The dim lighting and the smoky mist—a murky yellow in this room—hung heavy in and around the moving, moaning bodies, making it hard to identify the players.

If Holic was one of them, she couldn’t tell.

Not giving up yet, she moved through the mist. She was sure he wouldn’t recognize her; they hadn’t seen each other in eons. She doubted that he had ever thought about what had become of Mady’s shy little sister after he stole Mady away from Groffen.

She had met Mady and Prisca at noon for lunch. They had brought Alzbet with them and she had sat beside her daughter. During the meal they had laughed and talked about nothing important. Finally Mady had asked how long Nadja planned to stay.

Alzbet had piped up and said, “Forever, pleeease, Auntie Nad. Stay forever.”

Nadja’s heart had broken then. She’d wanted to scoop up her daughter and hug her, then run, run as fast and as far away as she could. But running wasn’t the answer. Kovar would never stop hunting her if she ran with her daughter—not without a perfect plan of escape.

She turned down two men who stopped to invite her to join them for some fun. She had expected the attention. After all, she was dressed for the kind of fun men liked best. But she wasn’t interested in playing with just anyone tonight.

If Holic was here, in one of the rooms, she would find him. And once she did, she intended to feed the monster a deadly dose of Nadja Stefn.

The yellow mist swirled around him, and Holic closed his eyes. He was high again and liking it, as well as the woman with the skilled hands and the gyrating hips. She made him feel invincible.

Or was that the drugs making him feel so damn horny?

He’d been confined on the tenth floor too many days. The short hour he had been out on the firing range with Pris hadn’t helped his restlessness.

His hand was still as useless as the day he arrived—useless and so painful that he’d been forced to use the drugs regularly to get through his waking hours. He knew that the drugs weren’t the answer, but he would worry about that later.

“You stupid bitch! Watch out for my hand.”

“I’m sorry,” the blonde purred. “So sorry…”

“Prove it. Get off my lap and on your knees.”

Holic waited for her to do as he asked, and when she did, he closed his eyes. She slid her hands down the inside of his legs, her thumbs extended wide to catch and tease his erection. His head fell back and he let the music and her skilled hands take him. He really shouldn’t have doubled the dose on those painkillers, he thought. He felt like the room was spinning.

He blinked open his eyes in time to see a beautiful blond vision stroll past him. She had hair past her shoulders and her body was crammed into a see-through shift. Under it she wore a red leather bra and thong.

She was amazing.

The sight of the blonde turned him on more than did the bitch between his legs. He swore, tried to push the redhead away and stand up, but the room spun again and he slumped back on the sofa.

The beauty glanced his way, and he thought she looked familiar. Then the thought vanished as the woman between his legs lowered her head.

He moaned when she swallowed him up in a bath of hot wet heat and began to suck.

“Ahh…that’s good,” he said on the end of a long groan. “Go after it, bitch. Get it good.”

When she saw him she was ready to move on to the next room. But there he was, sprawled on a sofa with the yellow mist hiding all but his face and raven-black hair.

His forehead was damp with sweat, but it wasn’t entirely pleasure related. He looked pale, his cheeks thinner than in the picture in his file. She wondered about his injured hand. It was hidden in the mist, and she was curious to see what it looked like. Still bandaged? Still useless? Or was he back one hundred percent and more dangerous than ever?

He didn’t look a hundred percent. What he looked was high. That wasn’t in his profile—that he had an addiction to anything other than killing and women.

Nadja stopped, and their eyes met. Holic’s were a rich shade of brown—she remembered that from the pictures in his file—but they were as empty as a bottomless hole. Yes, it was all in the eyes. Eyes were the window to your soul, and what she saw in Holic’s eyes was a very black soul.

He deserved to die, and yet the mission had been changed. His life would be spared—that was Polax’s orders. But…accidents happened.

It would be so easy to kill him here and now. She could join the party—his party—then silence him with a kiss. But she wouldn’t kill him tonight. She needed to locate the kill-file, and if he’d been clever in hiding it, she would need his cooperation, willing or not, in uncovering it.

Nadja was so focused on Holic and what her next move would be, she never noticed the man who had been watching her from across the room. The same man who now slipped up behind her and whispered in her ear.

She had no time to react to his words before he swept her up in his arms. In a matter of seconds he had her on the leather sofa, swallowed up in the mist.