Page 19 of Exacting Vengeance

At the thick glass window, she presented her driver’s license to a stern-looking guard in a starched black uniform. He inspected her ID, then slowly raised his eyes. Surely, he was only verifying she did indeed look like the woman in the photo. Anyone who’d ever gotten a driver’s license knew DMV photos were usually awful, but something about the way this guard stared at her made her swallow from the tightness in her throat, then hold her breath.

The guard picked up a clipboard and seemed to be perusing a list of names. Long ago, she’d ceased to be Viktoria Vladimirovna Petrova. Now she was Victoria Kelly. Victoria with a C. When a laminated pass appeared through a slit at the bottom of the window, she let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Wait here.” He picked up a phone, punched in a few numbers and said something into the receiver she couldn’t hear.

Minutes later, the heavy metal door next to the window opened. A tall, good-looking Hispanic man poked his head out. “Victoria Kelly?”

“Yes. Are you Agent Gates?”

“No, I’m Agent Hernandez.” He motioned her inside. “I work with Agent Gates. He’s in a meeting and asked me to escort you upstairs.”

The door closed behind them with a solid thunk. The inexplicable sensation that something bad was about to happen made her heart pound harder. Maybe it was just nerves, but she couldn’t shake it no matter how hard she tried. What a wuss she’d turned into. It was time to get over it. Grow a backbone!

They stepped into the elevator, and Agent Hernandez pressed the button for the thirteenth floor.

Figures. Where were the black cat and the broken mirror? If she’d had a shaker of salt, she would have thrown some over her shoulder.

The door slid open, and she followed Agent Hernandez down a hallway and into a large conference room. AUSA Greg Washington, the Assistant U.S. Attorney on this case, and his paralegal, Elizabeth Chang, were already there.

“Good to see you again.” Greg extended his hand.

“You, too, Greg.” She shook hands with the thin, wiry prosecutor and exchanged greetings with Elizabeth, whom she’d met once before.

“I’ll let Agent Gates and SAIC Morrison know everyone’s here.” Agent Hernandez left the room.

“Have a seat.” Greg indicated a chair opposite his. “We can’t thank you enough for helping us with Alyona. She wears her emotions on her sleeve. Testifying will be hard on her. I don’t think she could do this without you.”

Victoria set her briefcase on the floor by her chair. “All she needed was someone to listen and to make her realize she’s stronger than she thinks.” Part of any domestic abuse victim’s road to recovery. It also didn’t hurt that Victoria spoke Russian. Not even her boss or her best friend, Tracee, knew that about her. One of many aspects of her life she had to keep secret.

She leaned down to pull Aly’s file from her briefcase. The old cracked leather case really was an embarrassment. If things went according to plan, soon she’d be able to afford a fancy one. Maybe things would be okay after all. She let out a breath, and the tension she’d been experiencing began to subside.

Victoria set the file on the table and flipped it open. Two men entered the room, both wearing dark blue suits with crisp white shirts. One was older, balding, and built like a tank. The other⁠—

Every ounce of blood in her veins froze like a river of ice.

“Greg,” the younger man said, gripping AUSA Washington’s hand.

She inhaled shallow breaths, trying to force oxygen to her brain.

It couldn’t be him.

Inside an FBI office?

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to clear it. When she opened her eyes, the view hadn’t changed. It was definitely him.

Alex Tarankov.

Victoria could barely breathe. The temperature in the room seemed to have risen to boiling, and her skin began prickling. If she wasn’t sitting down, she’d probably faint.

The man walked toward her and held out his hand. She stared up into the most familiar set of golden-brown eyes. Eyes that had always reminded her of a hawk or an eagle. Unable to speak, she took his outstretched hand. Heat seared her fingers, racing up her arm and shooting out the top of her head like a Roman candle.

Their gazes held. For a millisecond, Victoria thought she glimpsed a reaction in his eyes. Then it was gone. He did, however, still have her hand firmly grasped in his. She wanted to pull away but couldn’t. It was like a strong electromagnet held their hands together and she was powerless to break the bond. Ten years had passed since she’d seen him, yet her body still knew him, this man whom she’d once thought⁠—

“I’m Kyle Gates.” He motioned toward the older man who’d come into the room with him. “This is SAIC—Special Agent in Charge—Michael Morrison. Thank you for coming, Miss”––he hesitated for an instant––“Miss Kelly.” Abruptly, he released her hand, as if it burned him, too.

Kyle Gates? Not Alex? Had he changed his name?

No, stupid. He’d probably never given her his real one.