WILD MEN OF ALASKA

chapter EIGHT

Perry had hired Sergei to kill her?

Kate reached out and grabbed the edge of the bookcase shelf.

“I don’t believe you.” She straightened away from the bookcase and stood strong, though her knees wobbled in her borrowed jeans.

“Part of you does.”

“Not Perry. Maybe someone else hired you. I’ve made a lot of enemies. But Perry was my partner, my mentor. He wouldn’t do that.”

“I know. But he did.”

Sergei stood there next to the fire, the bear rug spread at his feet, his stance relaxed, but his shoulders tight as though this discussion meant everything to him. Why would he care? What did he want from her?

“Katja,” he spoke slowly as if to help her understand, “Perry vas a double agent.”

She sucked in her breath. “No, he was not. He loved his country. He gave up everything for his country. His family, his wife, there was nothing the man wouldn’t sacrifice for his country.”

“Including you, but it vasn’t love for country that drove him. It vas power, money, and most of all ego.”

“He was my partner for six years. I would have known if he was crooked.”

“You do know.”

She shook her head. Was he not listening to her? No way was Perry playing both sides of the fence. He’d trained her right out of Quantico. He’d taken her under his wing and taught her everything.

“Perry told me that you’d slept vith him. He’s exact vords to me vere, ‘A few Black Russians and she’s an easy lay’.”

Everything in the room stopped. Even the softly falling snowflakes outside the glass seemed to suspend in mid air. One night. She’d slept with Perry once and it had been after a few too many Black Russians. Nobody knew about that. Nobody.

Nobody but her and Perry.

“You refused to drink the Black Russian I ordered for you.”

And yet, she’d still slept with him, not needing any alcohol for him to seduce her into his bed.

“You don’t get to say bad things about Perry. You killed him.”

“I was not the one who killed him.”

“You sent the person who did.”

“Just as he sent a person to kill you. I vould do it all again too. Everything, Katja. Everything. Perry vas not this perfect man that you have raised on pedestal. He vas a very flawed man not vorthy of your love and loyalty. If you can’t believe vhat I say, believe yourself. Your ‘American’ gut. Ask yourself, vhy I vas brought into the operation?”

“You were the Russian spy we were working with.”

“That is vhat you vere supposed to think. It’s vhat I thought. But Perry handpicked me to keep you occupied and paying attention to me instead of the deal happening right under your nose.”

“I am not that gullible.”

“I didn’t think so, but you are proving yourself othervise.”

She snarled at him, faced him full on and he couldn’t help the arousal that heated his blood. She stroked his inner beast to life with her aggressive ways.

“Perry brought me in to seduce you,” Sergei continued. “In his vords, you like them rough-looking.”

That seemed to be the last downward chop of the ax that freed the tree from its roots. She roared through her teeth and came at him, arm raised with a kerambit.

Where the hell had she procured a kerambit?

It was curved and resembled a two-sided cat claw, with finger holds making it impossible to knock out of her hand. The black, highly sharpened blade was more wicked than anything he’d had slicing his way in a long time. An Indonesian weapon, arched to maximize cutting ability, and typically a last resort weapon, but she wielded it with swift finesse and deadly intent. He barely had time to prevent her stab. His armed blocked, but the nature of the knife sliced his forearm as she parried his move.

“Son of a bitch, Katja. Nyet!”

“You nyet.” Her teeth were clenched, and bottomless pain had tears swimming in her eyes. Sergei deflected another swipe, but not the kick to his instep or the punch to his ribs. The truths he’d been hurling at her had stuck in tender places, and she couldn’t accept it. He hadn’t wanted the truth to break her. He’d wanted the truth to heal them.

He knew what it was like to be betrayed and had tried to temper his responses to her with that in mind, but the woman was seriously going to kill him if he didn’t do more than defend her attacks. Blood from the wound in his arm smeared the hardwood floor. She’d been holding back in their earlier skirmishes. Either that or her rage was a hell of a motivator for his throat.

He took her down, tripping her, but she was back on the balls of her feet dancing away from him, only to sucker punch him from behind.

“Katja,” he warned.

He was stronger, but she was faster.

And one of them would regret tonight.