Page 60 of Wyatt

“Roman.”

Recognition of the name flickered in his eyes.

“He told you where I was? How did you—”

“He questioned me down at FSB central, thanks. After someone broke into my hotel room and tried to beat the snot out of me while stealing the jump drive you gave me.”

And that very definitely sounded like an accusation.

“Sorry—”

He blinked. “I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying—it’s gone, and I don’t have the first clue what is going on, and maybe I should have just…stayed on the train to Vladivostok.”

Her mouth tightened. Yeah, maybe.

Especially when his gaze fell to Mikka walking beside her. It held a touch of sadness, a little anger, maybe. “He is your son, right?”

Oh. She nodded. And right now…she should, she could—

He looked at York and suddenly she got it.

Wyatt thought the child was York’s.

Oh. Boy. He’d clearly been hit in the head a few too many times, because he had to be very, very bad at math.

Or perhaps not, because one good look in the mirror screamed the truth. Her son lookedexactlylike his father.

They had the same dimple, the same eyes, the same hair…shoot, even the same gait.

Clearly, Wyatt wanted nothing to do with the little boy.

Her heart broke all over again.

“I’m sorry I told Nat where you were. I thought…well, I thought you were in trouble. Turns outIwas the one in trouble.” He gave a wretched laugh and shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. You’re right. I should have just gone home. I don’t know you at all.”

She dropped back and tried not to cry.

They reached the station, and York led them inside to a bench. “Stay here. I’m going to get us tickets. I’m sure there’s a day train leaving soon.”

She sank down on the bench beside Wyatt, who leaned forward, his head in his hands. She drew Mikka onto her lap.

“Where are we going, Mama?” Mikka asked, in Russian.

“We’re going to see Mama’s friend. She wants to meet you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. He giggled and wiped it off.

Wyatt’s gaze turned to them. He frowned. Met Coco’s eyes.

Yes, Wyatt, he’s yours.

But she didn’t say that. Not here, not now.

Maybe, frankly, not ever.

York came back. “We’re in luck. The Trans-Siberian passes through here in about an hour. We’ll take that to Khabarovsk.”

“Good,” Wyatt said. “The sooner I can get out of here, the better.”

Coco looked away and determined not to cry.

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