Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (24 page)

He only grew louder.

I have to get out of here. Get him out of here
.

On her feet, Aspen tugged on Talon’s lead and hurried toward the glass door she’d seen opposite the top of the stairs.

Hues of blue, gray, and white smeared the city into a somber landscape. White covered the snow, and the gray clouds hovered deep, forbidding the sun from making its appearance. No sun. Never any sun. Russia was dark and dreary. His life was dark and dreary.

A snowplow lumbered along the street, clearing it again for vehicle passage. Across the way, he spotted a group from his school. Six or eight of them laughing, pushing, messing around. Then she stepped out of the crowd: Svitlana Kitko.

As if his feet had iced themselves to the ground, he watched her wave good-bye to the others and hurry toward the small park that stretched out in front of his building. Their building. She and her family had moved from Moscow. He had heard the colonel speak of Svitlana’s father—a Ukrainian scientist. Her mother, full Russian. Pretty light brown curls bounced along the frame of her face, the rest crushed by a cap to ward off the cold. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, their eyes met.

The sun stabbed into the gloominess.

She waved.
“Privet
, Nikol.”

His heart stuttered as she said hi. But his mind
whirled—she knows my name
. Of course she knew his name. Everyone did. It was why they walked on that side and he on this one. No, the greater surprise was that she had actually spoken to him. He’d heard the others, especially Matvei Ilyich, tell her to stay away from him, that he was as mean and violent as the colonel. They were right—she should stay away.

But there she was. Boots up to her calves. A thick white coat with a fur-trimmed hood. And that smile. That beautiful smile. He wanted to wave. To smile. Anything to let her know he thought she was the most beautiful girl in all Russia.

He gauged the distance, the angles. They were too close. The colonel could see them if he had come home early. Although he almost never did that, Nikol wouldn’t take the risk.

Letting her go inside without acknowledging her presence was rude. He gave her a nod.

She turned from her path at his nod.

He could not let her know the effect she had on him.

“Kak dela?”
Hands stuffed in her pockets, she smiled up at him. Her eyes were blue. So pretty. Like the blue of a summer sky. When it was warm.

How was he? Stinking miserable.
“Harosho.”
Saying he was fine usually ended the conversation. That was what he needed. They were exposed. He could be seen. It would not go well.

“Fine?” She wrinkled her nose and looked around. “How can anyone on Nevsky Prospekt be fine?” Her laughter could be the flowers in a field on that summer day. He wanted summer. Very much. But it was winter. It was always winter in Russia.

“Then why did you move here?” He should not have asked that. “Never mind. It is not my concern.”

“It is okay. My father got this amazing job,” she said, sarcasm thick.

“Then you are sad to be here.” He started walking. Toward the building. The closer they stood to it, the less likely the colonel could see them.

“I was.” She scuffed her boots against the snow. “I had friends in Moscow. I wanted to attend university there.”

“You still can.”

She smiled up at him again. “Perhaps.”

Warmth speared his chest.

“But I am not sad anymore.”

“Really?” Everyone was sad, were they not? Really, when they got down to it, what was there to be happy about? He wanted to be happy. But it was just a ruse that got him in trouble.

“Yes.”

Snow crunched as they moved toward the building, then along it, leading to the front door.

“Are you not going to ask me why I am happy?” On the first step into their foyer, she turned and faced him. Her cheeks were rosied from the bitter wind. Things awoke in his frozen heart as they stood eye to eye.

Swallowing, Nikol glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Okay.” He met her gaze again. “Why are you happy?”

“Because, I met you.” She planted her hands on his shoulders, bent forward, and kissed his cheek. With a flutter of a swirl, she turned and hurried into the building. “Do svidaniya!”

Heart pounding, he watched her take the stairs two at a time.

Bitter and strong, an icy wind blew against his sunshine. He flinched, sensing the presence. To his right, a shape loomed closer. His gut clenched as the clouds once again dropped on him and whispered, “Do svidaniya.”

    Sixteen    

T
hudding above pulled Cardinal off the wall.

“Sounds like the dog is giving her a good run for her money.” Santos smiled.

Calm down, act natural
. “Yeah.” It did seem like Talon was running.

“Sounds like it.”

“I think they went on the rooftop. It’s good up there. Fresh air. Not much wind, so it is too hot for me.”

Having a suspicious nature kept him alive.

It also drove him crazy. And the craziest thought just hit him:
That’s my wife up there
. Not in any other sense than on paper. But if he didn’t show concern, Santos would question it.

“So, you came all this way to find her brother?”

“Yeah.” Cardinal returned to his spot holding up the wall. “Will you tell me what you know?”

“Sure, sure.” Santos went to the kitchen, where he pulled bottled waters from the fridge. He offered one to Cardinal. “It’s hot.”

“I’m good.” His gaze swept the home. Two levels—well, three if you counted the rooftop terrace. Plaster painted peach, with tiny flowers scrawling along the upper portion of each wall. “You said it’s been two weeks since he was here?”

“I am no good at keeping track of time, but yes, I believe so.”

“Why did he stay here?” Cardinal noted the worn furniture, the rickety rocking chair, the pictures that hung crookedly on the wall.

The handwoven rug that spread over the entire twenty-by-fifteen living area. Incongruently beautiful in a home with faded, cracking plaster, older furniture…

“He was injured.”

“But you’re not a hospital.”

“True, but the beds at Peltier are limited. Camille and I visited there often, to encourage the patients. He…” A noise above creaked, and Santos grew quiet. “I hope she is well.”

“Yeah, the flight really took it out of her.” He peeled off the wall. “I’ll go check on her.”

On the upper level, he found the rooms empty. He tensed. Then saw a shadow drift across the rooftop terrace steps. He pulled open the glass door and stepped into the late afternoon sun.

Talon lumbered over, nosed his hand, then licked it before returning to Aspen, who stood at a waist-high railing, hands on the plaster, staring out at the Red Sea twinkling in the distance.

“Everything okay?”

A breeze rustled her hair away from her face. Sweat dribbled down her temples—wait. Not sweat. Tears.

“Hey.” Cardinal touched her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes, which he noticed were almost the same blue as the water, met his. “He was here, Dane.” Another tear slipped free. “Why would he be
here?
Why didn’t he come home?”

Teary depths pulled him in.

She chewed the inside of her lip. Facing the sea again, she went quiet, her chin trembling. “He was here. And recently.”

“What’d you see?”

She sniffled through a laugh. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Hey.” He sat on the wall, wedging himself closer between her and the plaster. “I think a lot of things about you, but that is not one of them.”

Aspen looked down at him for several heart-thumping minutes then drew in a steadying breath as she once again turned to the sea. “When we were kids, Austin always arranged his room a certain way. I know it sounds insane, but he had this logic to it.” She sniffed and shook her head. “I’m his twin and it
never
made sense to me. He always—
always—put
the headboard where the footboard went. And a bookcase near his head.” She hunched her shoulders through a laugh. “He was never one for education, but he had this idea that the information would seep into his brain.”

“Now,
that
is crazy.”

“Yeah.” She smiled at him. “But that was Austin. He’d kill me for telling anyone, but that…that’s how I know he’s been here.”

“I’m sure he’s not the only one who did something like that with the bed.”

“True, the real clincher—was Talon. He got a hit.”

“Maybe it was a false positive.”

She laughed. “It’s not a pregnancy test. It’s his nose. His partner. His best friend. Talon
knows
Austin. And he
knows
he was in there. He went frantic. The way he whined—” She slapped the wall. “He wouldn’t stop whining or sniffing.” She turned away, eyes squeezed tight. Her shoulders bounced. “It made me as crazy as whatever he smelled was making Talon crazy. It was like he could smell him but couldn’t understand why Austin wasn’t there.”

She jerked to face him straight on. “Two years, Dane. He’s been gone two years.”

He slowly stood, knowing he would need to help her find her balance.

“Why would he do this to me? Why would he let me think he’s dead? Why would he abandon Talon—” Tears choked her words. “If you could’ve heard him…He wouldn’t stop.”

Cardinal pulled her into his arms, slamming a lid on the stirrings that erupted when she balled his shirt in her fist and clung tight to him. His pulse went haywire, holding her, comforting her. Not just out of attraction. But out of anger that Austin had hurt her like this.

Her body shook beneath the weight of her pain and tears. “Why? Why would Austin do this? Leave me, be here?” Tears soaking through his shirt, she pressed her forehead against his pecs.

“I don’t know.” And he truly didn’t. Arm around her shoulders bouncing beneath her tears, Cardinal steeled himself. At least, he tried.
I’ll drag those answers out of Austin Courtland if it’s the last thing I do
.