“Not really. I cleared my name, stopped an assassination plot, and found the love of my life after twenty years absence. I’d say it was the boldest, bravest thing I ever did.”
Ian snorted. “Fine, bring that up why don’t you?”
“Let me know as soon as you hear anything.”
“Roger that. Later, generalissimo.”
“Later, 007.”
Ian laughed and Mendez ended the call. Damn, who’d have ever thought he’d actually end up liking Ian Black after that first encounter with Ian’s operation in Qu’rim?
8
December 23rd
Kat stepped back to admire her decorations. The house smelled like freshly baked cookies and looked like Christmas had exploded everywhere. There were signs proclaiming things like Have a holly jolly Christmas and Let it snow, and miniatures trees and ornaments on shelves and counters. There were pinecones, pillows, trays, blankets, reindeer statues, and candles. Everything was frosty and glittering and perfect.
Kat smiled to herself, happy with the results. Maybe she’d gone overboard, but she liked it. She’d never decorated like this before. It was kind of addicting. The HOT ladies would be arriving soon for the cookie exchange—Kat’s first ever—and she was looking forward to it. Johnny had frowned last night when she’d reminded him about her little party today.
“Don’t overdo it, Kat,” he’d said.
She’d rolled her eyes. “I keep telling you I’m not helpless, Johnny. I’ll be fine.”
And she was fine. She was full of energy lately, and she had a strong urge to nest. She knew it was because the baby was coming soon. This pregnancy was so different from the last. With Roman, she’d been alone. She’d been scared about having a baby, worried about the future, and heartsick that Johnny was gone from her life for good. She hadn’t known what to expect, either with childbirth or what her life would hold. She certainly hadn’t known that the FSB would control her life so thoroughly or force her to give over the day-to-day care of her son. She’d been young, or maybe she would have fought back harder. On the other hand, fighting back would have only cost her. They might have taken her son from her at birth and never let her see him at all.
Kat put a protective hand over her belly as tears pricked her eyes. She would not allow anyone to take Elena from her. Not ever. She was older, wiser, and deadlier. She’d kill anyone who tried.
“Stop it,” she whispered fiercely as she wiped her eyes, furious that she was weepy. Damn hormone overload. “Your life is so good right now. Don’t borrow trouble.”
Johnny had asked her if she missed operations, and the truth was that she did. She’d been an operator for so long that a full stop had been difficult. And yet she looked forward to being a mom again, to actually raising her child this time, and to sharing the task with her husband. If she wanted to go back to work later, she could. Not exactly doing what she had been doing—too dangerous—but she still had very useful skills that someone like Ian or Johnny could use.
Well, when the time was right, maybe. And maybe it would never be right. Maybe she’d be happy being a wife and mother, things she’d never had a chance to really be before. Both jobs were important. There was also the idea she’d always had in the back of her mind about writing a book. She loved to read, and she’d lived the kind of life that meant she had a never-ending supply of high-octane thriller ideas. Wouldn’t that be something? Her, a published author. And why not?
It was half an hour before the doorbell rang. Kat smoothed her hair as she checked her reflection on the way to the door. She’d put on a dark green tunic with black leggings, black half boots, and she’d swept her hair into a loose ponytail. She’d applied red lipstick and dark mascara, and her eyes were bright as she looked at herself approvingly. She looked like a suburban housewife instead of the spy she used to be. She didn’t even have a weapon strapped anywhere on her body. Yet another thing it had taken time to get accustomed to.
Instrumental Christmas music played softly as she opened the door to greet her guests. Evie Girard and Georgie McKnight were standing there together. Grace Spencer was getting out of her car along with Brooke Sullivan. Other cars were pulling into the drive, and Kat stepped back to let her guests inside. The house had been quiet, except for Christmas music, and now it was filled with laughter and ladies’ voices as the women came in and gathered around the kitchen island, shedding coats and setting down their containers of homemade cookies. Kat pointed them toward the drinks and snacks while she took their coats.
Some of the ladies were at work, but those who could make it trickled in over the next few minutes. Emily Gordon and her sister Victoria Brandon, Sophie Daniels, Christina Marchand, Miranda McCormick, Eva Ryan, Annabelle Davidson, Ella McQuaid, Bailey Jones, Bliss Bennett, and Quinn Garrison stood around talking with plates of appetizers and drinks ranging from cranberry cocktails—and non-alcoholic mocktails—to sparkling water, wine, and juice.
Kat fixed her own plate of nibbles and joined the ladies in the living room where she’d put out extra seats. They had left one of the overstuffed chairs for her instead of a harder dining room chair and she sank onto it gratefully.
“How are you feeling?” Evie asked.
Kat sighed as she picked up a sausage ball. “Fat.”
Grace laughed. “I’m with you on that one, Mrs. Mendez,” she said, reverting to her usual mode of address.
Kat smiled. “Please, all of you, call me Kat. Military protocol is for military situations. You are in my home, and I consider you all friends. We have a unique position as wives or fiancées to HOT operators. We’re a sisterhood.”
Kat eyed Victoria for a second. She’d known Victoria when they both worked for Ian, but only a little bit. She knew that Victoria worked as a contractor to HOT on occasion, though she had no idea in what capacity. Though if Johnny wasn’t using the woman’s sniper skills then he wasn’t being very bright. Kat also didn’t know if the other women knew what Victoria did, so she didn’t mention that Victoria was more than an operator’s wife. That was Victoria’s secret to share or not share.
Victoria met her gaze and quirked an eyebrow as if acknowledging that their similarities went beyond marriage to HOT men.
“To the sisterhood,” Miranda McCormick said, raising her glass. Everyone echoed her as glasses were raised. They all drank, and then it was back to talking and laughing and eating food together.
“How’s the general handling things now that it’s close to the due date?” Emily asked.
Kat snorted. “He thinks I’m fragile and unable to lift a finger, naturally. He also fears I will go into labor and have this baby in a matter of minutes rather than hours. He believes every contraction means it’s time to race to the hospital. In fact, I think he’d prefer if I checked in right now and stayed until Elena is born.”
The women who’d had children laughed and shared stories about their husbands acting much the same. The others chimed in from time to time with stories of friends who’d given birth and swore there was no way they were letting their husbands act like that when they were pregnant. Kat, Evie, Emily, and Grace shook their heads and said, “You just wait.”