Page 98 of Hot Intent

She piled into the SUV’s front passenger seat as Alex punched the ignition button. The big engine roared to life. He steered the vehicle toward the fresh tracks in the grass at the edge of the clearing and they bumped down a rough driveway of sorts.

“Buckle your seatbelt,” he ordered without taking his eyes off the path ahead of them. How could he sound so damned calm? Didn’t he care in the slightest that he’d just murdered a man?

As she clicked the seatbelt across her body, she asked incredulously, “Aren’t you the slightest bit upset that you just executed a helpless man like an animal for the slaughter?”

He glanced over long enough for her to reel away from the cold calculation in his eyes. “I never claimed to be a Girl Scout. You knew who I am, what I do, when you signed up for this. Deal with it or leave.”

Just like that?“It’s not that simple—“ she started.

He cut her off sharply. “Yes. It is. He would’ve killed us both. This is my life. If you want to be part of it, don’t ask me to change. I can’t be someone else and survive. I have no choice.”

She subsided against the cushions. Was it really that simple?

“When we reach a road with a smoother ride, check the back for weapons,” he bit out.

They duly turned onto pavement, and she clambered over the front seat and into the back. She leaned over the bench seat, reaching into the far back to pull up a canvas tarp and peek beneath it. “Two AK-47’s, a wooden ammo box, and two pistols. I think they’re Makarovs.”

Without waiting for him to tell her, she dragged all the weapons forward to the back seat. The ammo box was heavy and gave her more trouble, but she horsed it into the seat as well. She rejoined Alex in a few minutes.

“Who were those men back there?” she finally asked as the SUV turned onto a major road and Alex stomped on the accelerator. “We’ve got Russian weapons. The shooter was speaking in Russian. Did your father order this hit on us?”

Grimly, Alex fished out his cell phone and punched in a number, one-handed, as he drove. He jammed the phone to his ear and snarled, “I know it’s the middle of the damned night in Moscow. Did you order a hit on me?”

It was as angry as she’d ever heard Alex. He listened in silence for a few seconds and then swore under his breath. “Check it out and let me know,” he snapped.

“He denied being behind this, did he?” Katie asked grimly.

“Bingo.”

“Do you believe him?”

Alex shrugged. “I think he believes he can still convince me to work for him. If that’s true, he wouldn’t kill me.”

“Would he have some thugs fake a hit on you to give you credibility with the CIA?”

One corner of Alex’s mouth turned up briefly. “There may be hope for you, yet. You’re learning to think like a spy.”

If that meant she was learning to be suspicious of everyone and not take anything at face value, she supposed he was right. “Could it have been someone else in the FSB?” she asked.

Alex frowned. “I fail to see how they could have picked up our trail from that library so quickly. I could see the CIA picking us up that fast, however, particularly if they were already looking for us in the New Jersey area. But not the Russians. They only have certain number of resources on short notice call in theStates, and Russian wet teams aren’t cruising around rural New Jersey for grins and giggles.”

For that matter, neither were CIA wet teams, to her knowledge. In fact, wasn’t it supposed to be illegal for the CIA to operate in on U.S. soil at all? Not that a small matter of legality would slow down the darker elements of that organization, she supposed.

“Aloud, she asked, Why would the CIA send a team to kill you?”

Alex was silent long enough that she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he said grimly, “I am controversial within the agency. I have many detractors.”

“Yes, but a hit team masquerading as Russians?” she challenged. “That seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to. I mean, they even spoke Russian to teach other.”

Alex frowned and didn’t respond. She gathered she had asked the right question, then. He steered the SUV out onto the highway, pointing it north.

“Now what?” she asked.

He smiled slightly at her trademark question. “New York City for the moment.”

As it became clear they hadn’t been trailed, she relaxed and took a look around the SUV for clues as to who their kidnapper and assailants had been. She opened the storage console between the front seats and peeked down inside.

“Hey, look what I found,” she exclaimed. She reached down into the compartment and pulled out a cell phone. It was a high-end model like someone might own for personal use, not a cheap burner phone.

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