Page 15 of Wyatt
Roman had spooked Coco the first time she’d met him, at the train station. He’d worn a black sweater, a pair of black pants, and sort of blended right into the night. He’d materialized only after York practically carried her off the train, his help volunteered by an American consulate director they’d met in Moscow.
The consulate director just happened to be Sarai’s brother, David Curtiss. And a friend of Roman’s.
With short hair and probing, hazel-green eyes, Roman had borne the grim look of a soldier as he drove them to his flat. York told him about their run-in with the Russian mafia, who York believed had hired the assassin, and finally the circumstances of the shooting, namely said assassin finding them in a dark alley in Yekaterinburg.
Roman had agreed to hide Coco, under his physician wife’s care, as Coco healed.
York didn’t know Roman either, but the two hit it off in a camaraderie born from understanding the sacrifices of patriotism. York had left her under Roman’s protection while he returned to Moscow and tried to track down Gustov.
He’d called last night, needing help with a hacking project, with the news of the meet, and the reality that he’d be delayed. Hence Coco’s field trip to the hotel.
She probably would have found herself at the hotel anyway, her traitorous heart begging to see Wyatt.
Why oh why did she always set herself up for heartache?
Roman set Vitya down and patted his bum. “Time for bed,lapichka. Scoot.”
Sarai got up and headed down the hall, running her hand over Roman’s arm as he headed into the kitchen.
“So? Did you make the handoff?” Roman asked.
“The USB drive? Yes, I gave it to Wyatt Marshall.”
“That hockey player?” Roman said. “I saw his picture on television.”
Roman had played a little hockey himself, back at university.
“And you think this Wyatt is capable of carrying the drive out of the country?” Roman turned a chair around and straddled it, leaning his folded arms against the back.
“Yeah. Although he wasn’t happy about my not going with him.”
On the stove, the tea kettle whistled. Roman made to get up, but Coco shook her head and got up instead. She’d lived here long enough to earn her keep.
She dropped loose black leaves into a tiny teapot, then poured the hot water in, letting the chai steep. She put a cloth over the small teapot.
“He wanted you to leave the country with him?” Roman was looking at her as she sat down. “Why?”
“I guess…well, he’s worried about me…” Oh shoot. She’d left out the part where… “He and I…we had a…”
She didn’t know what to call their relationship. Not a fling, because that meant it was short-lived. Hello, she’d been in love with him for nearly a decade. And not an affair, because that made it tawdry and illicit.
It wasn’t tawdry. Just…under the radar. And, maybe not as pure as it should have been.
But in truth, Wyatt was the love of her life.
Roman said nothing.
“I loved him. And I thought he loved me. But…” She drew up a knee. “But that was a long time ago.”
“I see,” Roman said. “Back when you lived in America?”
She nodded.
“Before you moved to Russia.”
“And, during. I went back to Montana for a short time not long after I moved to Russia. We saw each other then, but…well, he was just getting his chance to play for the Blue Ox, and I didn’t want…” She swallowed, looked away. “I didn’t fit into his life anymore.”
Roman was just watching her.