The Spy Wore Red

“Because you know her so well, right? If you say yes, you would be the only one. She’s as elusive as he is.” When she didn’t answer him, he said, “I wonder if love is worth it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said she loves him.”

“No, I said maybe she loves him.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then his death could be a celebration.”

“And if she does love him?”

“The gift of freedom can be a wonderful present to an imprisoned soul.”

“You don’t believe in fate, then?”

“Living a life determined by fate is for passive dreamers who lack the confidence to embrace change and make healthy choices.”

“Is that your definition of Holic’s mystery wife?”

“Mady Reznik is not a dreamer. She’s a brave woman, caught in a storm of circumstance.”

Mady… Bjorn’s memory zeroed in on the name. In Reznik’s file there was no information on the woman he had married. Nothing, but that he had a wife and a child. He said, “They had a kid, right?”

“She was named Prisca after her grandmother. I’ve often wondered if she is fair and slight like her mother, or if she’s tall with hair as dark as her father’s black locks.”

The comment convinced Bjorn that Nadja knew things no one else knew. Why was that? Or maybe a better question to ask was, who was Nadja Stefn before she became Quest’s bedroom assassin?

She glanced at the third monitor, and her interest made Bjorn look, too. Merrick was telling Polax that they should start without Q because her presence wasn’t necessary to conclude the meeting.

Nadja motioned to the high-tech silver phone on Polax’s desk. “Pick it up, Agent Odell. Ring Polax. There’s a similar phone in the conclave. When he picks it up, ask to speak to your commander. Tell him you’ve changed your mind. Tell him you’ve decided on the blonde with the cotton-candy ass.”

Bjorn hated to admit it, but he’d be a fool not to take her with him. If she could pinpoint Holic Reznik’s hideout, then that would put him back on schedule. Possibly ahead of schedule.

“Pick up the phone, Bjorn. Tell your commander you’ve had a change of heart. Tell him you’ve decided to carry around a spring-loaded cock after all.” Her eyes found his crotch. “And here I was worried that you might have injured yourself in Vienna. It’s a relief to know there wasn’t any permanent damage.”

Merrick was standing now, clearing his throat to deliver Bjorn’s choice. Without further delay, Bjorn picked up the phone and pressed the red button on the panel labeled “Conclave.”

Polax’s voice sounded. “Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Bjorn Odell. Put Merrick on.”

“But we’re in the middle of—”

“I know what you’re in the middle of. I’m watching from a monitor in your office. Put Merrick on the phone.”

“A moment.”

When the phone was pressed to Merrick’s ear, Bjorn said, “The blonde is the better choice. Tell Polax to get Q ready to fly. Tell him—” Bjorn’s eyes locked with Nadja’s “—she’ll need plenty of wool panties to keep her sweet ass warm. The temperatures have been in the deep-freeze there in the past few days.”

The minute he hit the button and disconnected the call, she said, “Very good, Agent Odell. Now turn around and face the wall.”

“What?”

“Do it.” She aimed the Springfield at his heart. “Turn around and face the wall.”

He turned and faced the wall just as Merrick announced that Nadja Stefn would be joining the Onyxx mission to Austria. A second later the scent of Alpine heather told him she had come up behind him. She leaned in, and her full breasts pressed into his back. Her gun hand moved over his hip, then down his thigh, letting him feel the hard steel against his leg. She took her time, moved across his thigh and stroked his crotch with the short barrel of her pearl-handled .45—worked his cock until it was stiff.

“It’s chilly in the Alps,” she whispered close to his ear. “Wool panties are a good idea. Better pack an extra sock for yourself. You wouldn’t want to freeze off anything you can’t live without. The airport at midnight, then. Auf bald.”

Bjorn left the Vysehrad Museum cursing his crystal-clear memory, and the snow that had gotten worse throughout the day. He hated winter. The cold shriveled your dick and made you aware of all your aches and pains. Reminded you of your vulnerability. It made him feel old, and then not old enough because he could still remember what it felt like to be alone and cold.

To be a hungry snot-nosed kid on the streets of Copenhagen.

Still, he didn’t hail a cab, opting to walk instead to his hotel in Old Town even though the chill in the air was bone deep. In his room he spent time at the window thinking about Holic, then thinking about Nadja. She had looked amazing today. Curvy and beautiful. So goddamn beautiful.

At six o’clock he joined Merrick in the dining room at the hotel and they shared an evening meal. When the waiter arrived, he ordered a gin martini while his commander requested his favored bottle of Glen Moray. Over food and drink they finalized the last details of the mission. Before Bjorn left the dining room to return to his room, he ordered a bottle of gin to take along with him.

It was nine when he arrived back in his hotel room. More time was spent at the window, more time remembering her, while he smoked half a pack of cigarettes.

He packed after that, and just before he zipped his duffel bag closed, he took a second look inside, his eyes lingering on his socks.

Better pack an extra sock for yourself. You wouldn’t want to freeze off anything you can’t live without.

Chapter 4

He was going to make it. But then, he had known he would. Holic Reznik smiled even though he felt like shit. But he would eventually feel better. By tomorrow he would be warm and safe, sleeping in a familiar bed, waking up to familiar surroundings.

He used the image of a crackling fire and sweet-smelling pillows to put one foot in front of the other as he came out of the alley. The black SUV had pulled to the curb and he could see the driver’s blond hair through the window.

Mady was on time.

The significance in that made his smile widen. His wife had never let him down. Not ever. Why would she? Mady loved him. Would forever love him, no matter what.

And because she loved him she would do whatever he asked of her.

That was why he had married her. Not because he had loved her above all else, or because she was curvy and had a nice ass and firm tits.

The real reason he’d married her was her loyalty. Loyalty was everything. He had only to snap his fingers and she would be there ready to give her life for his if he asked it of her. Even though she knew about his mistresses.

It hardly mattered, though. Her loyalty was not contingent on his. Mady knew her place in his life. Knew that it was a man’s privilege to take what he wanted—as much as he wanted, and as often as he felt like it.

Mady had known that from the beginning. Had known that he answered to no one but himself. Knew that whatever he desired, he would take.

Right now what he desired was to be out of the cold and in a hot bath, then a warm bed. He’d been on the run for three days and his hand hurt like a son of a bitch. He was hungry and tired, and anxious to have his wife tend to all of his needs, one at a time.

He pulled the drab gray stocking cap lower over his forehead as he left the alley behind. The dirty black coat he wore, he’d stolen only moments ago off the dead man who slumped against the brick building with his throat slit.