A HOT Christmas Miracle: A Hostile Operations Team Holiday Story Page 3
Mendez’s knees went a little weak and he sagged against his desk, thankful it was there to hold him up.
“His name is Kazimir Rybakov, not Roman Rostov,” Ian said. “But they could have changed his name. They wouldn’t have wanted Kat to find him.”
Mendez’s heart hammered. He forced himself to breathe deeply and slow it down. “You don’t know for certain it’s him.”
“No. But the resemblance is notable, wouldn’t you say? Not that we don’t all have a doppelgänger somewhere, which is why I hesitated. Kat would know, surely.”
Mendez thought of his very pregnant wife and his stomach twisted. He had to be logical about this. Resemblances happened sometimes. Uncanny ones, even. Didn’t mean anything. But what if…? “I can’t show her. Not yet. I don’t want her upset when she’s about to give birth.”
Not only upset but planning how she was going to get a face-to-face meeting with this boy.
“No, you can’t show her yet.” Ian nodded at the papers in Mendez’s hand. “I’ve given you everything I’ve found on him. It’s not a lot, but he’s twenty-one, he was orphaned at age twelve and put into state custody, and he joined the navy two years ago. He is currently stationed in Vladivostok.”
Twenty-one. Orphaned at age twelve. It fit, but that didn’t mean the young man was Mendez’s son.
“How did you find him?”
“How do I find anyone?” Ian asked with a shrug. “I work connections and take my time. But I have to confess this one was an accident. One of my operatives had a meeting with a Russian counterpart—and Kazimir was there. My operative thought the resemblance notable, so he let me know about it. Kazimir is officially in navy intelligence, but he’s probably also involved with the FSB.”
Anger and hope flooded Mendez in equal measures. Was this boy his son? Or was it just a coincidence. People could share similar features. How many times did you see a picture of someone who resembled a celebrity?
“What the hell am I supposed to do about this?” Mendez growled, more to himself than anything.
Ian looked grim. “I’m sorry, John. That’s why I debated telling you. I don’t know what you can do. It’s a tricky situation.”
Mendez held up the papers. “I can start here. I don’t have any assets in Vladivostok. And I couldn’t send them after him even if I did. My rules are different.”
Ian nodded. “Yes, they are. You’re a military officer and your organization is funded by the taxpayers. You can’t use them for personal reasons. But I’m a mercenary. I can do whatever the hell I want.”
“I envy you that sometimes.”
“You could always go into private contracting. Retire, hand HOT over to Ghost, and join me over at BDI. Or start your own firm.”
Mendez shook his head. “Don’t think I’d enjoy that, Ian. HOT is what I need and what I’m good at. I’ll leave the private contracting to you.”
“Your choice.”
He frowned. “I can’t go after this kid—but you can. I want to hire you. Get Kazimir Rybakov to DC if you can. If not, I’ll go to him. I need to meet him.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Your best is usually pretty damned good.”
Ian grinned. “I aim to please.”
6
Kat had more Braxton-Hicks throughout the day, but they weren’t regular so she didn’t worry. She’d been through this before, even if it was over twenty years ago. She called Evie Girard and talked to her for a while, then started working on dinner. Johnny called to say he’d be home early, so she peeled potatoes and carrots and sang along with the carols on the radio. Then she put the vegetables in with the roast she’d seasoned, covered the pan, and slipped everything into the oven.
Three hours later, the house smelled divine and Johnny came striding through the door, looking handsome and fierce in his military camouflage. She smiled at the stars on his shoulders. One star for brigadier general. Her general.
“Baby, what did you cook?” he asked as he set down his briefcase and came over to wrap her in a hug.
“Roast beef with potatoes and carrots. And onions. I’ve made gravy as well.”
“You shouldn’t work so hard at this stage of pregnancy.”
She smacked his arm lightly. “Stop it. I should do whatever I want to do.”
“I worry about you.”
“Don’t worry. I’m fine. This isn’t my first pregnancy and I’m not fragile.”
She met his gaze. Something flickered in those eyes. Something that was bothering him. But before she could ask, he lowered his head and kissed her. By the time he stopped kissing her, she couldn’t form a coherent thought in her head.
He led her to the big island in the kitchen, seated her on one of the comfy barstools they had there, and got to work putting dinner on the plates. There was French bread and butter too. He set those out, poured drinks—water for them both—and joined her at the bar.
“Any more contractions today?” he asked.
“A few,” she admitted as she buttered a slice of bread.
He frowned.
“They aren’t regular. It’s not time yet.”
“But you have your bag packed and ready, right?”
Kat rolled her eyes. “Johnny. You know I do. You’ve asked me every day for the past two weeks if I was ready. And I am.”
“It’s a habit. Sorry.”
“You’re used to running a huge organization and you like to make sure the details are correct. I get it. But you don’t have to manage me. I’m a grown woman who survived for years on my own. I’m fine. If I’d never been through this before, I’d be jumpier about it, but everything is normal. Promise.”
He looked troubled again. But he dropped his gaze before she could study him. “You’re right. But I love you and I can’t live without you ever again—so I worry more than I should.”
Kat settled her hand over his. He clasped her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of it. She reached over and palmed his cheek with her other hand. “I love you too, Johnny. I can’t live without you either, so I’m planning to do everything I can to make sure you’re happy and comfortable. If I think I’m in labor, I’ll tell you. So stop worrying, okay?”
He breathed a sigh. “I’ll try. It’s not in my nature not to obsess over details though.”
“I know.” She picked up her fork again. “Now tell me about your day. What kind of interesting things happened at HOT?”
Was he frowning? Maybe so. She knew there were things he couldn’t always tell her, so she didn’t push.
“Not a lot. The world is quieter than I expected right now. Thank God.”
“But there is something you can’t tell me.” His gaze snapped to hers. She smiled. “I understand, Johnny. I’m not a part of the organization. You aren’t allowed to share all you know. Don’t you think I understand that better than anyone?”
She’d been an FSB agent for heaven’s sake. She understood keeping secrets. She understood duty to country as well, though this was her country now. She’d been betrayed by her own and she wasn’t looking back. She was as American as apple pie now.
“I know you do. There is something. And I want to tell you, but I can’t yet. I will when I can.”
She couldn’t help the prickle of unease that flared inside. “You’re not in danger, are you?”
He laughed, and relief washed through her. “No, I’m not.”
Kat stabbed a potato. “That’s all that matters to
me. That my family is safe—you, our baby, and me. I can deal with anything so long as I have that.”
“I know, honey. You don’t have to worry. You just work on bringing Elena into the world. I’ll do the rest.”
Kat lifted an eyebrow. “For now. I’m not the kind of woman who intends to sit still for long.”
Johnny snorted. “Don’t I know it. Now tell me what you want to do tonight. Watch a Christmas movie? Do some more decorating?”
“How about both?”
“Both it is then.”
They finished dinner and Kat sat at the island while Johnny cleaned everything up. He put the leftovers in the fridge, did dishes—washing and drying and putting away—and cleaned the stove. Kat sipped the cranberry mocktail he’d made for her and enjoyed the sight of her big bad husband doing chores. It was sexy, and she found herself squirming on her seat as she imagined him doing it in the buff. There was nothing sexier than Johnny Mendez naked. Unless it was Johnny Mendez naked and sliding his cock deep inside her body.
“Kat?”
She looked up to find him frowning at her, but in an amused way. “Yes, my dear?”
“Dare I ask what you’re thinking about?”
She grinned. “What do you think it is?”
He leaned against the counter, dish towel in his hand—so hot—and lifted an eyebrow. “I’m thinking it has something to do with sex.”
“What makes you think that, Johnny?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Could be the glazed look in your eyes, the way you keep squirming on the chair, or maybe it’s the way you keep biting your bottom lip as you stare at me.”
“Nailed it in one,” she said happily. “Think you might want to nail me?”
He dropped the towel and came around the island. He put his hands on the granite, trapping her between his arms. She inhaled the scent of him—soap and steel, gun oil and determination—and shuddered with delight.
“I always want to nail you, baby.”
His mouth settled over hers and Kat was lost.
7
December 20th
He hated keeping secrets from Kat, but this was the kind of secret he couldn’t tell a woman about to give birth. Not when it might amount to nothing. Mendez sat at his desk at work and stared at the photos of Kazimir Rybakov. The resemblance was strong, and yet he wondered if it was real. It could simply be the camera angle, or even a deliberate attempt with Photoshop to make this kid look more like Mendez than he really did.
But that didn’t explain Ian’s operative, who’d thought the resemblance enough to mention it, did it?
Mendez shook his head to clear the chaotic thoughts. He remembered Kat last night, how passionate she’d been, and then how happy when they’d settled in to watch a Christmas movie together. She’d laughed at Ralphie’s antics as he schemed for a BB gun, and then they’d watched a movie with Kurt Russell as a cool Santa Claus who sang the blues. She’d wondered aloud whether or not he could pull off long hair and a beard like Kurt, and he’d had to remind her it wasn’t in military regs.
“Too bad,” she’d said with a little pout. “You’d be so handsome, Johnny.”
“I already thought I was handsome enough for you.”
She’d laughed, and he’d loved the way the sound stroked his senses. He was so gone for this woman. “You are always the best-looking man in the world to me. But a girl can have a little fantasy, right?”
“You have Santa Claus fantasies?” he’d teased.
She’d swatted him and pointed at the television. “Only if he looks like that.”
His cell phone rang. He picked it up, glancing at the screen. “Ian,” he said after he’d swiped to take the call.
“John,” Ian replied. “How’re things at HOT HQ today?”
“Quiet,” Mendez said. “Thankfully. Got anything for me?”
“Not enough, unfortunately. Rybakov has gone to ground. We don’t know where he is at the moment.”
Mendez hated the way his heart twisted at the news. He didn’t even know if this kid was really Roman, and already he was feeling the desperate pull of a parent wanting news about his child. “Where was he the last time your people saw him?”
“His apartment in Vladivostok. He went in two nights ago and that’s the last we’ve seen of him.”
“He knew he was being watched.”
“That’s what I think too. But I don’t think it was my people. They’re careful. He wouldn’t have known they were there.”
“Are you suggesting he’s being watched by someone else?”
“If he’s really Roman Rostov, then it’s possible. Dmitri Leonov might not have been the only person who knew of Roman’s real parentage. You gotta admit he’d be a helluva lever to use against you, John.”
Mendez’s gut tightened. “That’s assuming a lot, don’t you think? They can’t know how I’d react to finding out he was alive. I never knew him. Maybe I wouldn’t care.”
Ian snorted. “You’ve married his mother and she’s pregnant with another child. You’d care. Any spy worth their salt knows it, too.”
Fuck. He hated it when Ian was right—but Ian was right.
“What if the whole thing is a setup? What if Kazimir Rybakov is really who he claims to be and someone with a grudge or an agenda is using him as bait for me and Kat?”
“It’s possible,” Ian said slowly. “It could also be bait for Kat alone, you know.”
Mendez’s blood ran cold. Sergei Turov’s son Misha was still out there, still capable of carrying out an act of revenge for his father. Sergei was a monster. He’d held Kat prisoner for years with his hold over Roman, and he’d abused her both mentally and sexually. He was in prison now, awaiting execution, but so far he’d managed to avoid the death sentence with delays and bribes.
It would be like Sergei to want to torture Kat one last time. And Mendez through her. Through Misha, he could’ve organized the whole thing.
“You’ve heard of Calypso, right?” Ian asked.
“The assassin? She’s not someone we’ve dealt with, but yeah, I know about her. You’ve had some run-ins with her, I believe.”
“A couple,” Ian said. “She’s an interesting character. She reminds me of Kat in a way. But I digress. The point is she’s a master of disguise. She can be tall or short, fat or thin—whatever the situation requires. She made us think she was someone else. So much so that we captured the wrong person because she’d done everything necessary to point us in that direction. Which brings me to my main point—that it’s possible to mimic just about anyone if you’re skilled enough.”
“And yet you brought this situation to my attention when you showed me the photos.”
“I told you I had to think about it, but in the end I did what I would have wanted done for me. I’d want to know. You’re a smart man and you’ve seen a lot. You know what people are capable of, and you also know that things aren’t always what they seem. You thought Kat was dead for twenty years, and she wasn’t. So yeah, it’s possible this kid is really your son. It’s also possible it’s a setup. If it is a setup, then he’ll turn up whether or not I look for him. So do I keep my people on it, or do I sit back and let it happen if that’s what’s going on?”
Mendez knew what Ian was asking him. Whether or not he wanted to pursue Kazimir Rybakov. Backing off would give them an answer eventually, but Mendez didn’t think he could do that. He needed to know. “Have your people been inside his apartment since he disappeared?”
“Yes. Only six hours ago. He’s not there, and there are no signs of a struggle. He left again under his own power, probably in disguise. We’re going over surveillance footage from the past two days to see if we can’t pinpoint which person is most likely him.”
“Keep looking, Ian. If it’s a setup, then I’ll deal with it when I find out that’s what it is.”
“And if it’s too late by then?”
The knot in his gut tightened. “It won’t be. I won’t let that happen. Neither will y
ou. If nothing else, you care about Kat. You won’t let him get to her if this whole thing goes wrong.”
“If this is Sergei Turov’s idea of revenge, I’d prefer Rybakov not get to either one of you. Kat would never forgive me if anything happened to you, so don’t do something stupid.”
Mendez laughed. “I never do anything stupid, Ian. I’m deliberate and methodical. You know that.”
“I’m not so sure. You walked into the center of a lion’s den this past spring when you were being hunted instead of lying low until the danger passed. That was kind of stupid, don’t you think?”
“Not really. I cleared my name, stopped an assassination plot, and found the love of my life after twenty years absence. I’d say it was the boldest, bravest thing I ever did.”
Ian snorted. “Fine, bring that up why don’t you?”
“Let me know as soon as you hear anything.”
“Roger that. Later, generalissimo.”
“Later, 007.”
Ian laughed and Mendez ended the call. Damn, who’d have ever thought he’d actually end up liking Ian Black after that first encounter with Ian’s operation in Qu’rim?
8
December 23rd
Kat stepped back to admire her decorations. The house smelled like freshly baked cookies and looked like Christmas had exploded everywhere. There were signs proclaiming things like Have a holly jolly Christmas and Let it snow, and miniatures trees and ornaments on shelves and counters. There were pinecones, pillows, trays, blankets, reindeer statues, and candles. Everything was frosty and glittering and perfect.
Kat smiled to herself, happy with the results. Maybe she’d gone overboard, but she liked it. She’d never decorated like this before. It was kind of addicting. The HOT ladies would be arriving soon for the cookie exchange—Kat’s first ever—and she was looking forward to it. Johnny had frowned last night when she’d reminded him about her little party today.
“Don’t overdo it, Kat,” he’d said.
She’d rolled her eyes. “I keep telling you I’m not helpless, Johnny. I’ll be fine.”