Page 78 of Wyatt
York headed down the hall to the office. “I’m going to book us plane tickets.”
“Come with me,” Roman said quietly to Wyatt.
Oh great. “More waterboarding?”
Roman frowned at him. So maybe that wasn’t appropriate, but he still didn’t like the guy.
Roman led him into the kitchen. Turned to him and shut the door. “I have a buddy in Seattle. He used to be a Russian cop. He works for the Seattle PD now. I’ll email him and tell him what’s going down. He’ll protect you—”
“I can protect Coco.” Even as Wyatt said it, it sounded stupid, but…hey, hadn’t York just tasked him with getting Coco stateside?
And there went Ford in his head, asking him how he was going to get her out of Russia.You don’t have a visa, you don’t speak Russian. You’re a hockey player, for cryin’ out loud.
Yeah, well, for a hockey player, he hadn’t completely stunk.
If he omitted the leading an assassin right to Coco part.
And getting hit on the head—a wound that still throbbed.
Sheesh. Still…
“His name is Vicktor. He’s married to an American named Gracie. I’ll give you his number.”
Wyatt nodded.
Roman met his eyes then. “Don’t do anything fancy. Or stupid. Just go to Vladivostok and get on a plane. Stay with your team. Gustov won’t approach you if you’re surrounded.” His voice dropped. “Saraiwilltake good care of your son. I promise.”
Wyatt glanced away, toward the darkened window. Saw his own reflection—the bruise on his forehead that swelled down to his eyes. The three-day beard growth, the greasy hair. He needed a shower and a shave and maybe a good look in the mirror to help him wake up and realize he wasn’t in a dream.
“You didn’t know.”
Wyatt turned back to Roman. Frowned.
“Coco said that you didn’t know.”
Aw. “Youeven knew about Mikka?”
Roman nodded.
Nice. Coco trusted the FSB before she trusted him.
Well, he had about two days to prove that he could be the guy she needed.
The guy to keep her safe.
What was it that York said…as long as he had breath in him?
Yeah, well, ditto.
Drop the puck. Game time.
This was no different than every other time she’d had to leave her son.
Except, this time she wasn’t doing it alone.
Coco didn’t know what it was about saying goodbye to Mikka while standing next to Wyatt. Or watching Wyatt say goodbye, his jaw tight, his eyes shiny as he gave Mikka a hug. For some reason, knowing that he too had to kiss Mikka’s forehead, close the door behind him, and leave their son in Sarai’s care made her feel like, well, maybe she didn’t have to bear the pain alone.
Or maybe she did. Wyatt hadn’t exactly spoken to her since his outburst some two hours earlier at Roman’s flat.You really don’t want me, do you?