If she comes backand I capture her, will I still have a career?
How did I ever letthis happen?
Why would she dothis to me?
Questions withoutanswers ricocheted inside her skull, growing louder with everypassing second. As she pondered just how bad the coming days andweeks would be, the ding of the elevator stopping on her floor yankedher from the well into which she’d fallen.
Moving with every ounceof stealth she could muster, Gwynn moved into the kitchen behind thenarrow dividing wall between the entrance foyer and the rest of theapartment. Her only chance of subduing her prey would come in theform of sheer surprise.
She pressed the coldstainless steel of her handcuffs behind the fold of her knee as theratcheting mechanism clicked through its cycle, leaving the cuffspoised for quick application. Scenes from the morning’s fight inthe middle of the living room flooded Gwynn’s mind. The speed andstrength of the Russian were all but impossible to overcome. If shegot one cuff on a slender wrist without the second one locked inplace, Anya would have a swinging, jagged weapon hanging from herwrist. A weapon of any style in those hands was more than Agent Daviswanted to face.
The footsteps, if theyexisted, were silent in the hall. Gwynn had listened for the soundsof Anya’s movements for weeks and never heard her make a sound. Itwas as if she floated just above the ground with every move of herfeet. The question of how long she would have to wait was answered bythe rattle of the key sliding into the lock. When the deadboltreceded, it sounded like a freight train roaring through Gwynn’shead. She subconsciously reached for her Glock, but the reality ofher inability to draw and fire on the Russian overtook her, forcingher to leave the deadly weapon secure inside the leather binding ofits holster.
The knob turned, andthe door moved a few inches inward and then froze. The expectation ofthe chain had stopped the door’s swing, but when the gold chainrevealed itself to be hanging uselessly against the jamb, the doorcontinued its arc into the foyer. The key slid from the lock just asGwynn imagined the damage a key could do to a human body in the handsof a fighter like Anya. The mental picture of the crooked, torn,bloody flesh left her unable to quench the thirst in her throat.
Finally, the doorclosed, and Anya Burinkova continued through the foyer and toward thehall. Gwynn sprang from her concealment and landed one step behindthe Russian with her handcuffs poised for use against the bones ofher wrists, but instead of the tall, lean form in jeans and asweatshirt she’d expected, the sight froze Gwynn in her tracks.
Hearing Gwynn movebehind her, Anya spun, raising both hands into a defensive position.She adjusted her feet into a modified fighting stance—as much asthe dress would allow.
As the two women facedeach other, both shocked by what they saw, Anya was first to speak.“Why do you have handcuffs?”
Answering a questionwith a question always perturbed Gwynn, but she had no choice. “Whyare you wearing an Alexander McQueen?”
Anya relaxed, loweringher hands. “I like it. It fits. And I could afford it.”
Gwynn tossed the cuffsonto the kitchen counter. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean,why are you here . . . in that dress? I thought you were gone.”
“I am here because Ihave date with Viktor Volkov to see his favorite ballerina.”
Gwynn couldn’t stopstaring at every inch of the silk chiffon dress. “You lookbreathtaking. I’ve never seen anyone except models wearing that,but . . . wow.”
Anya offered a somewhatawkward turn, giving her partner a full view of the dress from everyangle. “You can have it after tonight. I will never need dress likethis one again.”
Gwynn stood wide-eyedand mouth agape. “How much did it cost, and where did you get it?”
“It was veryexpensive, but Volkov gave to me money to buy dress. It would be rudeif I kept money and bought cheap dress, no?”
“Oh, yeah. That wouldbe way rude. He’s going to die when he sees you.”
Anya ignored theflattery and let the dress fall from her shoulders. “I cannot wearponytail tonight, so I must change my hair. You will help me withthis, yes?”
“Yeah, of course, andI’ll do your makeup.”
Anya offered theslightest of frowns. “I do not wear makeup. You know this.”
Gwynn helped her fromthe dress. “Tonight, you do. Let’s get to it.”
The next hour was spentturning one of the world’s most classic beauties into the princessof New York City.
Halfway through theprocess, Anya caught Gwynn’s attention in the mirror. “Why didyou have handcuffs when I came inside door?”
Gwynn’s shouldersdropped in embarrassment, coupled with disappointment in herself. “Ithought you had escaped, and I was going to arrest you when you snuckin to collect your things.”
Confusion consumed theRussian’s face. “Escaped? From what?”
“I thought after youran away from the thing with the kidnapper, you weren’t comingback. I even had to report it to . . .” Gwynn dropped her brush andran from the bathroom. After dialing frantically on her cell phone,she shoved the device to her ear.
“Special AgentWhite.”
“Agent White, it’sDavis. She’s back!”
White lowered his tone.“Do you have her secured? I’ll send a team to—”
“No, not like that. Imean, she never ran away. She was just shopping for a dress, and nowshe’s back.”
“Slow down, Davis.What are you talking about, a dress?”
Gwynn took several deepbreaths. “She ran from the scene of the kidnapping, I guess to getaway from the media and the cops, but she didn’t leave the mission.We were shopping for a dress for her date with Volkov when it allhappened. I guess she thought she should continue the mission, andshe bought a killer dress. It’s an Alexander McQueen, and it isgorgeous. You should see her in it, Agent White.”
“Davis, I don’tcare about the dress. Are you telling me she’s back on board?”
“No, I’m tellingyou she was never not on board. She wasn’t running from usat all. I was way wrong about all of that.”
“Wait a minute. Shecame back voluntarily as if nothing happened?”
“Yes, exactly. Ithink she was sincere last night when she said
