If he’d arrived twenty-four hours earlier, before she heard the wail of the woman who haunted her dreams, she would’ve gladly followed him to the ends of the earth, even if it had meant she simply worked by his side. That would’ve been enough, no matter how much her body craved more.
She’d known he was drunk the night they’d spent together, just like she’d known he would likely not remember making love to her. Later, when they slept, just resting her head on his chest and feeling his powerful arms encircle her had given her a sense of peace unlike any she’d ever known.
What would Gunner do once the plane landed? Would he hand her off to one of the other K19 operatives? If she somehow managed to escape and returned to Baku, would he forgive her for putting his life at risk only for her to return to the place from which he’d rescued her?
It wasn’t as though she had a choice. If the woman whose cries she heard was who Raketa thought she was, she’d never be able to rest until she got her away from Makar Petrov.
Raketa startled when Gunner came through the cabin door, just like she had earlier. She sat up, brought her knees to her chest, and clasped her arms around them.
“We’ll be landing in London soon. We won’t be leaving the plane.”
“Why not?”
“Because London isn’t our final destination.”
Raketa waited for him to divulge more information, finally realizing he had no intention of doing so.
“Are you taking me to the States?” she asked, feeling sick to her stomach.
Gunner nodded. “Unless you want to brief me on what your real plans are.”
“I told you I am returning to Moscow.”
“And I told you I know that isn’t the truth.”
“United Russia will negotiate my release,” she said, refusing to look at him.
“They’ll kill you, and you know it. And don’t bother telling me that you have something they want. If that were the case, you would’ve told me that weeks ago when you asked me to help you defect.”
Gunner sat in the chair by the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees like he had earlier.
“Shiver suggested we let MI6 interrogate you.”
Raketa almost smiled. She knew Gunner would never allow that. If anyone interrogated her, it would be him or someone else from K19. Even then, it certainly wouldn’t be traditional. He had other ways of getting information out of her, and they both knew it.
“Who will be my handler?”
Gunner smirked. “Me.”
5
“My apologies, Zaryana,” Gunner said as he cuffed her hands and blindfolded her. Neither bothered her as much as his use of her given name.
Rather than leading her off the plane, Gunner carried her.
“This isn’t necessary,” she muttered.
He didn’t respond other than to tighten his grasp.
Navigating the exit stairs with her in his arms wasn’t difficult for someone with Gunner’s strength. His breathing didn’t become labored nor did he shift her position until he deposited her in the back seat of a vehicle and fastened the seatbelt around her.
“Thanks, boys,” she heard him say before he closed the door behind her, and the car sped away. Only a few hours ago, he’d told her he would be her handler. Why had that changed?
She waited for the other occupants in the car to speak to give her some clue as to who they were, but neither did.
Resting her head against the window, Raketa wondered if she’d seen the last of Gunner Godet. Her heart hurt thinking it was.
—:—