Page 113 of Wyatt

“I refused to leave Russia, and I was fluent in Russian, so the CIA approached me, and I agreed to…” His mouth tightened. “I had no choice. I wanted to be with her, and she wanted to stay in Russia, so…”

She swallowed, almost not wanting to hear.

“We had a son. We lived in this little two-room flat on the outskirts of Moscow, and we were happy. I wanted to move back to America, but by then, I was making decent money working for the CIA and I thought…oh, I thought I had life all figured out. I could keep her safe, do my job…no problem.”

He scrubbed a hand across his chin. “I should have made her leave.”

Like he’d made RJ leave? Suddenly his determination to get her out of Russia made sense.

He’d hooked his elbows around the swing chains, his voice, his gaze now far away. “I was asked to follow someone. He was a known smuggler but also a CIA asset working for a local Bratva group, and the CIA wanted eyes on him. Somehow he made me. Must have followed me home. The next day, when I got home…”

A muscled jumped in the side of his jaw. “She’d been taken, beaten, and then hung in some abandoned warehouse. And my son…” He blew out a breath. “He was just under eight months old. I think she was giving him a bath when they broke in.”

She closed her eyes. Oh, York.

He looked down at the dirt, his voice weary. “Her father blamed me. He was right. He left Russia, and…I stayed.” He looked at his hands. “I…uh…found that asset.”

He said nothing else.

Oh.

“He was important to the CIA and they…well, I’m probably on a disavowed list. I have a feeling that if the CIA knew I was here, I might be in trouble. I’m still useful to them in Russia. Here…I have too many secrets.”

He looked at her. “I thought maybe they would have kept Claire and Lucas out of the official report. Apparently not.”

Aw, shoot. “York, I didn’t know about your son. I thought…” She didn’t want to say it, but… “I thought Mikka was yours.”

He stared at her as she sat there, the swing moving slightly. Nodded. “I guess that makes sense. But, no. Kat and I… No.”

She wanted to rewind time. Go back and be a rational person instead of this drama queen she’d turned into. She’d been watching too much television. “I’m so sorry about your son, York. And your wife.”

He looked away, at the skyline to the west, to the sun falling into the horizon. “It was a long time ago. Nearly a decade now. Grief is funny that way—it’s gone, out to sea, and then suddenly, it just knocks you over. I don’t know why I thought you knew…maybe because I feared you finding out, and…” He blew out a breath. “I told you my life isn’t really conducive to a happy ending. I’m not a…good person.”

“Yeah, that’s why you risked your freedom to bring Coco’s son to America. Because you’re a bad person.”

He glanced at her, then looked away.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Wyatt was Mikka’s dad? I was so angry with you—I thought all this time you’d lied to me.”

“Oh, Syd. I won’t lie to you. Ever. But I accidentally let that out of the bag back in Russia, and it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“Wow. So, he didn’t know?”

“Not a clue. Really. Not. A. Clue. He’s real bright, that brother of yours.”

“You think?” She looked back at the building. “He had a stellar escape there.” She shook her head. “Why do you think he took off?”

“I don’t know. But he’s also carrying the information we need to clear you, so we need to find him.”

“And Tate. I wonder if he’s in town yet.”

But York had gotten up and now put his hand on her arm. She looked up at him.

“Syd. Claire and Lucas…that was a long time ago. I tried to fill up some of the empty places with Tasha, but…you need to know that you’re not some sort of Band-Aid. I…I don’t know why, but it’s different with you. Very different. I…I always felt like I had to protect Claire, you know? And even Tasha. And yes, maybe you too—” He smiled then. “But you’re the first woman who’s made me feel like…well, I always thought there was nothing left for me but being a soldier, I guess. But you make me wonder—no, hope—that there’s more. And bad person or not…I do want to try for that happy ending with you.”

Oh, York. She couldn’t imagine what it cost him to say that. He swallowed, looked away, as if it had stripped him of something.

Probably his heart.

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