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
