Ian: Novosibirsk.
Mendez let out a breath. Novosibirsk. Where Roman had last lived with the couple who’d been raising him for Kat. Where he’d been when Kat got the news he’d died in a car wreck. Where he was buried. Mendez remembered standing beside his grave with Kat, not aware at that moment who she really was or that Roman was his. He’d ached for her pain, but he hadn’t known it was his pain too. Not until later.
And then someone had started shooting at them and they’d had to run. They’d holed up with Yuri Budayev, otherwise known as the Tiger. That was where Mendez learned the truth about Kat. Yuri didn’t trust a soul and he’d ran her fingerprints without her knowledge. Mendez had nearly exploded with twenty years’ worth of loss and anger, but they’d worked it out in the end. Thank God.
Still, what was Kazimir Rybakov doing in Novosibirsk?
Mendez: Anywhere in particular?
Ian: He’s staying in an apartment near the city center. Not far from where Peter and Ludmilla Yelchin lived before they died.
The couple who’d been raising Roman while Kat did Sergei Turov’s bidding.
Mendez: Either someone is going to a lot of trouble to set us up or he’s searching for something.
Ian: The truth maybe?
Mendez didn’t dare hope, and yet he did anyway.
Mendez: But why now? Why not at any point in the past several years?
Ian: He’s twenty-one, he’s in the navy, and those who had a vested interest in controlling him are either dead or in prison. With the exception of Misha Turov, who likely has more important things to worry about just now. Maybe Kazimir’s finally learned something that has him on the hunt.
Jesus, he hoped Ian was right. It was possible. If the kid was really Roman, if he’d inherited even a tenth of the skill his mother had, or even his father, then maybe he’d bided his time until now. Maybe he was on the move because the time was right for him to do so. But what did he know? Would could he know?
Mendez: What’s your next move?
Ian: Watch and wait. Unless you prefer we kidnap him? Might be a little hard getting him out of Russia, but I like a challenge.
Mendez: Tempting, but I’d rather not create an international incident just yet.
He’d wanted Ian to arrange something so he could meet with Rybakov, not abduct him.
Ian: Your call, but I like creating incidents.
Mendez laughed. Then he typed, Yeah, I know.
Ian: How’s Kat?
Mendez looked toward the hallway. It was dark and he couldn’t hear anything coming from the master bedroom.
Mendez: Ready to have this baby. She doesn’t sleep well.
There was a lump in his throat as he pressed send.
Ian: It’s going to be fine. Though neither of you are gonna sleep much after the baby comes, you know.
Mendez: So everyone says.
Ian: Gotta get back to work, mon general. I’ll let you know if anything changes.
Mendez: Thanks, Ian. I owe you.
Ian: I know. <winky emoji>
Mendez erased the conversation with Ian, just in case, and set the phone on the counter. He kept things from Kat all the time, because they were mission specific and he had to, but this one felt different. It was personal and it involved her. He wanted to tell her, but all she could do was worry if he did. Strike that—she’d do more than worry. Kat would act, and that wasn’t something he needed to deal with when she was about to have a baby. Nothing stopped Kat. Though she was about to give birth, she wasn’t your average pregnant woman. Kat was highly skilled and deadly. If she got the idea she had to do something, she would. And Mendez didn’t want her doing that right now. They didn’t have Kazimir in front of them and they didn’t know if or when they would. Mendez wasn’t telling her a thing when it could all be a sick joke pulled by their enemies.
Fuck. He shoved a hand through his hair. Part of him wanted to call Ian back and tell him to go and capture the kid, bring him to DC so Mendez could see him in person. So they could take a cheek swab and solve the issue of his DNA once and for all. If he was Roman, then Mendez would go from there. If he wasn’t, then Mendez would put the fear of God in him about messing with him or Kat and drop his ass on the Kremlin doorstep. Misha Turov would get the message loud and clear if he was trying to run a revenge plot for his father.
But patience was best, so he planned to be patient. Ian knew enough people that he could arrange for Kazimir to be sent to the States on an assignment. Or maybe somewhere in Europe where Mendez would meet him and learn the truth. There was time. No need to rush.
Mendez finished his coffee while watching the snow come down. It was pretty, and it reminded him of his first winter in Moscow, though there’d been a lot more snow. He didn’t want that kind of snow here, not when Kat was pregnant. He turned on the Christmas tree lights because he knew Kat would like that when she woke up. He also put Christmas music on in the great room, turned down low, so she’d have that too. Then he went to the mudroom and slipped on boots, his coat, gloves, and a hat, before going into the garage to get the shovel so he could clear the driveway.
The air was cold, and the snow was steady. He waved at a neighbor shoveling his own drive and then got busy making sure the way was clear if he needed to get Kat to the hospital. His mind was on Kazimir/Roman and how Kat would react if the truth was a miracle. Was it really possible that Roman had survived? Or was the whole
