* * *
“Has she calmed down?” Mallory turned in the copilot’s seat and gazed at Tanner as he opened the door. “Nash said her mother was pretty cool after he convinced her that nothing bad was going to happen to Lara. She was principally just confused.”
Tanner nodded at Jordan who was flying the plane before he turned back to Mallory. “Calm?” he repeated thoughtfully. “I don’t think she knows the meaning of the word. She’s like a beautifully balanced dagger ready to strike at the first hint of an attack. And I don’t think it’s because she’s feeling threatened by the situation. I have an idea she’s like that all the time.”
“One can hardly blame her,” Mallory said, “considering how she grew up. The attack must have always been right around the corner.” He snapped his fingers. “But that’s right, you were too busy to read that file Kaskov left for you. That’s okay, you’d probably have found it boring anyway. But it might help you to control her since we have to get her settled.”
“Really? I hardly think so. She has a particular dislike of being controlled.”
“And you have a passion for being in control,” Mallory said. “My, my. What a conundrum. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t have to do anything.” Tanner grinned. “I can leave it up to you. You read the file. Deal with her. Reassure her, so that she won’t choose the parachute option.” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “But take a pot of strong coffee with you and watch your back.”
“What a challenge.” Mallory got to his feet. “But I will persevere. I’m always better with people than you are. You’re far too impatient.”
“Are we back to those dealers again?”
“Why should I let you forget them? You caused me a full two hours of smoothing their egos and then coaxing them to stay.” He passed Tanner and opened the door. “If you need something to do while you’re sitting up here as I do your job, her file is in my bag beside the chair.”
“So?”
“Just thought I’d tell you. You’re fighting it, but you’re curious as hell. You’re always like that when you have a hand you don’t quite know how to play. Shall I give you a teaser?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “The bastards called them the Trials. They’d get together and choose a task to give Lara to accomplish in a certain amount of time, usually six months or less. Usually something dangerous, almost always illegal. Nothing easy, nothing familiar. Then Volkov would bet a certain amount against her, and her father would choose if he wanted to accept it. He always did. Then her father would give her as much tutoring as he thought she’d need and then she’d have to do the Trial. She did the first one when she came back from Moscow after the competition. I think she was about eleven. She lost that Trial and ended up in the hospital with a broken leg and a concussion. Is that intriguing enough for you?”
He left the cockpit before Tanner could answer.
Crafty bastard, Tanner thought. He knew damn well he’d be intrigued and pissed off at that “teaser.” Yet the last thing he wanted was to feel pity or protectiveness toward Lara Balkon. Mallory was right, he did know how to handle people better than Tanner—except when he applied himself. He’d always been tough when necessary, but he genuinely liked most people and was interested in what made them tick. It had taken Tanner a long time before he’d learned to accept Mallory’s intrusion into his own privacy. He might never have done it if they hadn’t been in the service together. He was too guarded to let anyone that close.
But Mallory was right about Tanner’s curiosity. It sometimes overcame his instinct to keep the world at a distance. He was definitely curious about Lara Balkon. Probably natural enough considering how they’d come together. He’d been feeling a wild mixture of feelings toward her since she’d turned and attacked him in the forest: wariness, respect, impatience, and, yes, even attraction. She was beautiful and fiery and so complex he couldn’t deny he’d had to smother moments of intense arousal.
Or it might be the music. He was having trouble looking at her without remembering the sound of that Rachmaninoff concerto she’d been playing on the disk that night Kaskov had pulled him into this. That was weird in itself. It was all strange and complicated, and the only thing he was sure about was that he didn’t like this responsibility that Kaskov had wished on him.
So give in to the curiosity. Read the notes. The fascination would disappear once there was no longer mystery.
He went forward and reached for Mallory’s bag, then sat down in the copilot’s seat as he took out the file.
Chapter
3
Hello, I’m Mallory. I’m supposed to provide you with coffee and reassurance.”
Lara looked up to see a tall, good-looking, sandy-haired man coming down the aisle toward her. He was carrying a tray with a pot of coffee and cups, and his smile lit his face with warmth. She warily braced herself. “I’ll take the coffee. I don’t need your reassurance. Why should I trust anything you say? I don’t know either you or Tanner.”
He shrugged. “Because it’s easier and anyone can see what a magnificent human being I am?” He was pouring coffee in a cup. “But I don’t imagine that would go very far with you, considering your background. Particularly since your first encounter was with Tanner. He has many phenomenal qualities, but sometimes he doesn’t play well with others. He’s often too quiet, and he’s always watching and trying to see beyond what you want him to see. You have to accept that, along with the knowledge that he’s brilliant and will usually be several steps ahead of you, which can be very frustrating.” He handed her the cup. “But it’s balanced by the fact that once he accepts you, he’ll never desert you and you couldn’t be safer.”
“Did he tell you to say that?” she asked cynically.
“No, that’s personal experience.” He grinned as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “I thought I’d throw it in for good measure. Since your meeting was fraught with violence, I knew you’d need a more neutral view of him.”
“You’re hardly neutral. It’s clear you’re good friends.”
“Yes, but I pride myself on never letting that cloud my judgment. You have to do that with friends.” He sat down beside her. “I suppose you’ve found that, too?”
“No, I’ve never had that many friends. Just my mother and Maxim.” She took a sip of coffee. “And I’d think that it would be terrible to have to judge your friends.”
“That’s not what I said. The whole point is not to judge them, but to keep them from dominating your life.” He looked down at his coffee. “Maxim?”
“Maxim Petrov. He lived in the village near the compound. He taught me to play the piano.” She frowned. “Though I guess you couldn’t call him a friend. He yelled at me a lot in the beginning, and once he slapped me. But that didn’t matter. He was right, I wasn’t playing it the way it should be played. It was important that I didn’t make mistakes. I had to serve the music.”