Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (19 page)

He let down one foot, booted but not tied, and lifted the other boot from the mattress. “Tell me what you remember—every minute detail.”

Rubbing her forehead, Aspen let her gaze skip along the spidery cracks on the floor. “I was talking to the little boy…”

“And Talon was cool with that.”

“Yeah.” She remembered being proud of him. “He sniffed then licked the boy’s hand. It was a good connection.”

“Tail?”

“Huh?”

“Was Talon’s tail up?”

She returned to that memory. “Yeah…tail and head. Ears were attentive but not drawn back.”

“Right.” Boots on, he started tightening the laces. “Go on.”

She liked this, the going over details to pick out what happened. She used to do this sort of thing with Austin since their childhood, being latchkey kids—if you could call it that with a maid, a nanny, and a groundsman while Mr. and Mrs. Courtland were busy making millions at the family empire, Courtland Properties. Days gone of an era that she’d once thought gave her happiness. Her childhood hadn’t been typical. But she’d come out fairly normal. What kind of upbringing had Dane had? He was so grounded, it had to be a decent one.

Back to the present, Aspen
. “Okay, so Talon was fine one minute then barked the next.”

“And the kid screamed because it startled him.”

“Right, then Talon took off.” Scared and looking for a place to hide. Hope deflated in her chest, pulling her courage with it. “So, see?” She was tired. Tired of working her heart out for Talon and believing beyond belief that Austin was alive. Tired of the doubts. Tired of the listing nature of her life. Tired of…everything. Even of being tired. She felt the tears burning, the prickling in her sinuses. And hated them.

In a rush, Dane stood over her, hands gently on her shoulders. “Don’t go there, Angel.” His voice was soft, gentle, like her favorite down comforter. “Don’t give up on him.”

“He’s
not
better, Dane.” Her voice cracked. Suddenly aware that her hand was on his side, heat flared through her and she removed it, wiping her fingers along her face to make the removal seem innocuous. “I keep thinking he’s getting better, but he’s not. How are we going to find out if Austin is here, if he’s alive, if Talon can’t keep it together?”

“Slow down there,” he said, craning his neck to look into her eyes. “Think about it. When Talon barked, what was he looking at?”

“The boy.”

Dane started to shake his head then slowed then gave a firmer shake. “Think—”

She drew in a hard breath as the memory spilled over her. Aspen widened her eyes as she drew in a breath. “You’re right.” A bubble of laughter trickled up her throat. “He was looking down the hall.” Her heart beat a little faster. “I think he saw something or someone.”

“Which means he had a hit.”

“He didn’t break behavior.” Relief warmed her belly. She laughed. “Thank you!” She tiptoed up, threw her arms around his neck, and hugged him. “You’re right.”

Awareness lit through her as his arms encircled her waist and tightened. Aspen stilled, the realization sudden that she’d thrown herself into his arms. Then it coupled with the intense exhilaration that blossomed.

But…would he take it wrong? Would he…?

Slowly, she eased back to the ground, her hand resting on his shoulder then onto his bicep. He must think her stupid. Or—loose.

She flicked her gaze to his.

And froze.

His fingers swept her cheek. The spot where they’d banged heads earlier. And trickles of electricity shot through her face and neck at his touch. “I was afraid it’d bruise.”

Unable to keep her gaze from his for any decent amount of time, Aspen tried to maintain a smile, but everything in her felt ablaze. “I…I’m not as soft as I look.”

Dane’s eyes lowered to her lips.

Oh…
Her breathing shallowed as his head dipped toward hers.

“No!”

Startled, Aspen drew up short.

Dane swallowed and turned toward the bed, reaching for something.

“No,” Timbrel repeated as she stomped toward them. “You stay away from her!”

Indignation squirmed through Aspen. “Timbrel!”

“You don’t know this guy, Aspen.” Timbrel wore a mask of outrage and protectiveness, but something else was there. “I warned you—told you I didn’t like how he was looking at you. Can’t you see it? He’s working you.”

Dane swung around. And what Aspen saw in his face pushed her back a step. The rugged face, the gentility, the quiet powerful presence—gone. In their place, a terrifying fury.

Back in St. Petersburg, Nikol disembarked the bus. As soon as his foot hit the cement, he stopped.
My backpack
. Breath jammed into his throat, he stared out at the bustling city. How would he explain that to the colonel? Fear swirled through his body, deadening him to the din around him. Was there anything in it that would identify him?

No, of course not. Another thing he had been trained to protect—his identity. Besides his national identity card, he carried nothing with his name or residence on it. The colonel vowed he had sworn enemies who would do anything to get to him.

Believing that was believing in Mikuláš.

A grimy window blurred his reflection—but also reminded him of the cut.
Need to remedy that
. But how? Rounding another corner, he made eye contact with a police officer then veered left and headed down an alley. Skirting a three-story building, he heard the heavy footfalls behind him.

Nikol continued on. Left, then right, he searched. Farther into the darker sections of the city. Should not be too much farther—

“Hey, you lost?”

Perfect.

Nikol turned. “What is it to you?”

The brawny kid came toward him. “This is my territory, that’s what.”

“As if you could stop me.” Showing his back to the guy should be enough.

A gust of wind and a foul smell warned him of the attack. He let it come.

The guy grabbed his jacket, swung him around. In the fraction of a second it took to see the fist coming, Nikol angled his face so the guy would hit his cheek.
Crack
.

Pain shot through his head. His neck whipped back. Stupid kid missed—busted his lip instead.

Nikol drove a hard right at his opponent.

The kid stumbled but came at him again. Nailed him straight on.

Fire streaked through his face and jaw. About time. Nikol threw a flat-handed slice right into the guy’s throat. The kid dropped to his knees, clutching his throat.

“Stop!” The police officer raced toward them, aiming a weapon. “Step back.”

Hands up, Nikol shuffled away from the thug.

In the minutes it took another police officer to show up, Nikol closed himself off. Mentally compartmentalized. He had accomplished his mission, covered his mistakes.

“You belong to Colonel Tselekova.”

Hands behind his head, Nikol merely stared at the officer through a knotted brow.

They laughed as the fatter officer stuffed Nikol’s national identity card into his pocket. “He’ll get enough punishment at home.”

“But you saw—”

“Do
you
want to explain to Tselekova why he had to come down and pick him up?”

“I’ll return him to the colonel,” the younger officer said.

Silently, Nikol thanked God for the reprieve. Taking him into custody would have made it worse. Having documentation, having to experience the humiliation of retrieving him from a jail, the colonel’s fury would be heard throughout the city. It had happened once, and though Nikol had been willing to endure it again this time, he had always done everything in his power to avoid another lesson.

“I ask not for a lighter burden, but for broader shoulders.”
H
IS
mother had said that a thousand times and then would clasp his shoulders and say,
“You will have broad shoulders.”

Nine hundred heartbeats passed before he stood at the door to the apartment, under the control of the officer who announced their presence with two hollow yet booming thuds on the door. Though Nikol tasted the blood from his lip, he cared not.

The door swung open.

Cold dumped into Nikol’s stomach as the colonel towered over them both, darkening the doorway. Darkening life. Fury smudged a scowl into the steely features.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Kislik.”

Chest puffed, the police officer relinquished control, gave a curt nod, then stomped off.

The colonel moved back without a word. Stood straight and stiff, demanding with his silence that Nikol enter.

Pushing every ounce of contrition into his face and posture, Nikol trudged inside. He paused as the door closed. There would be no dialogue—no excuse was good enough to bring shame on Colonel Tselekova. Or to arouse his anger. The offense didn’t matter. A beating would commence. Always had.

Nikol did not care. He had accomplished his mission, and the colonel was none the wiser. Remembering the face of an angel, he turned.

Swift movement tensed him. The butt of a Tokarev collided with his temple.

The blunt force thrust him backward. He hit the wall. Blood sped down his face. As his vision ghosted, he had one thought:
At least Kalyna is safe
.

    Thirteen    

T
ame the fury.

Gaze locked on Aspen, on the widening of her eyes, the tension radiating through her frame, Cardinal hauled in the hurricane-strength storm that erupted at three words:
“He’s working you.”

“I know your type.” Red-faced, fists balled, and in a fighter stance, Timbrel stood between Aspen and him. “I know how you work on softhearted women—”

“Timbrel—” Aspen moved to the side, closer to Dane.

“No!” Timbrel whirled toward Aspen, who’d moved closer. “No, I’m not going to let this go. I won’t let him hurt you. You’re too good of a woman.”

“And a strong woman capable of making her own decisions,”

Cardinal said, his heart pounding at her accusations, at the way she portrayed him to Aspen. “Give her some credit.”