She’d expected this, but it still rankled. How many times had she asked him for anything? It had always been the other way around.Herjob that had to be sacrificed.Herbeing the one to have understanding.Herwaiting for him to come back from whatever hellhole he’d been sent to, wondering what kind of horrible things he’d done or seen and what kind of black mood he’d be in this time.
Selfish bastard.
Well, this time he was going to do something for her. “I don’t think you are sorry at all. I think you don’t want to help because it’s me who is asking. I think you still want to punish me and would refuse even if it meant going on a wild-goose chase to Russia and never finding out the truth.” His expression gave no hint of his thoughts. It was the same dark look he always gave her. “Your plans can be rearranged. There are other transport flights you can hitch a ride on. I’m asking for a week. That’s it. Even if you don’t think you owe me anything, don’t you owe it to your former teammates—your former men—to follow up on a good lead before getting yourself killed?”
“Is that wishful thinking on your part, your godfather’s part, or both?”
Finally he’d managed to prick beneath the shield. How could he think that of her? “I never wanted you dead, Colt.” Not even after all the hateful things he’d accused her of—all the words he’d said that could never be taken back: “Too bad the driver didn’t have a few more.He could have saved me a lot of lawyer’s bills.”Even the memory made her ill. “It was the other way around.”
Still nothing. It was like looking into a black hole with him. It always had been.
She took a deep breath and tried again. “Can’t you put aside your hatred of me for a few days? Or do you hate me so much and the idea of being near me is so horrible that you’d rather go tromping around Arctic Russia?”
Even as she asked the question, Kate wondered ifshewouldn’t rather go tromping around Arctic Russia than spend time with her ex-husband. Being around Colt for five minutes was already stirring up memories that she’d spent three years—and thousands of dollars on therapy—to put behind her. But maybe this was exactly what she needed: closure. Maybe they could find a way to forgive each other.
Right. More likely he would just walk away like he’d done three years ago.
He held her gaze so long she wanted to start squirming, but she forced herself not to reveal any of the turmoil seeing him again had unleashed inside her.
“You have your week. Set up the meeting with the admiral. We’ll fly as soon as it can be arranged.” He stopped. “Assuming Lord Percy doesn’t have an objection to you flying across the country with me? Or maybe you won’t tell him.”
Percy wasn’t a lord, as he well knew. He was a knight. His Excellency Sir Percival Edwards, Her Majesty’s Ambassador to the United States.
But Colt was right. Percy wasn’t going to like it. He knew what Colt had done to her. He knew what Scott was to her as well, although not that he was alive. She couldn’t tell him that. But Percy understood about her job—there were things he couldn’t share with her either. Percy trusted her. Which was something Colt had never done.He’d been jealous from the start. If he only knew how wrong he’d been.
“Why would he have an objection?” she asked innocently. “He knows exactly what you are to me.”
Nothing. The slight tightening of his jaw was the only sign that her comment had pricked beneath that impenetrable surface.
Marriage to Colt had taught her something after all. Never show weakness. She needed to remember it.
Eight
John opened his eyes for only a split second, but sunlight found the crack and exploded in his head like a grenade.
God, his head hurt. He felt like crap. What time was it? He blinked again—the pain from the light marginally less excruciating this time—and felt around for his watch on the bedside table.
It could be midnight for all he knew. Finland had taught him that there could be too much of a good thing—who would have ever thought he’d get tired of daylight? But it wasn’t conducive to sleeping well. Of course, the nightmares weren’t either.
What did help was alcohol, but unfortunately that had a rather unpleasant side effect. Waking up with a head that felt as if it had just gone through a meat grinder, which was pretty much how it felt right now. It was still buzzing with the sound of...
Ah, hell, not his head. The phone. That must have been what woke him. Slightly more alert, John sat up and looked around. He saw his watch on the table, but thephone was still in his jeans pocket. He rolled out of bed, fished through the pocket, and pulled it out to answer.
They exchanged the code before the LC laid into him. John was still half-asleep, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up with what Taylor was saying.
“What the hell have you been doing the past few days? I told you to take care of it—of her.”
John’s mouth flattened. He didn’t need to ask whom the LC meant. He’d thought of little else besideshersince Brittany walked out of here three nights ago.
“I did take care of her,” John said, although not in the way he had planned. But he had no intention of sharing that particular detail with the LC. John was doing his best to forget it himself.
A few more nights and he was sure he’d stop thinking about it. Then he’d be out of this weird funk he’d been in. He’d actually lost his temper at work a couple times today with one of the new guys. If he didn’t watch it, the senior chief was going to have some competition in the hard-ass category when they all got back to work.
Except they wouldn’tallbe going back to work.
“Then why the hell did I just find out that Lois Lane is in Norway now, asking questions around the base?”
It was John’s turn to swear. “At Vaernes?”
