Read Ekaterina for Free Online Page B

for her to sit. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
    He deserved to ask her anything after his heroic stunt earlier in the evening. When he looked at her with worry in his brow she could hardly say no. Still, their relationship had her on edge—just what, exactly should she feel about someone who scared the breath out of her one second, and felt like an angel from heaven the next?
    She sat down, feeling hollow, thankful that she’d pulled on the green sweatshirt before leaving the hotel. An igloo in Siberia was bound to be warmer than the barren cement interrogation room in the cop house. The smell of coffee drifted in from the dingy hallway and knotted her stomach.
    The captain flicked open the brown file folder and flipped through it, as if searching for something. Kat pinned her hands together between her knees, hoping the file wasn’t about her. He stopped searching, and his fingers drummed on the sheaf of papers for a moment while his gaze swept over her. She swallowed a lump forming in her throat.
    “Do you have any idea why someone would ransack your room or shoot at you?”
    She gave a small shake of her head.
    “Hmm.”
    She watched his hands, strong and sleek, unearth a color photograph. She remembered those hands guiding her as she slithered across her hotel room floor to the hallway. Those hands took hers and helped her to her feet, even held her around the waist when she discovered her legs had turned to oatmeal.
    “Have you ever seen this man?” He handed her a photo, and was polite enough not to comment when it shook in her grip.
    She frowned. The man in the photograph looked Slavic by birth, with narrow panes to his face, and hard eyes. His tawny brown hair, pulled back, gave him a fierceness that was only accentuated by the thin scar along his right cheekbone. He looked vaguely familiar, but. . .“No.”
    “His name is Ivan Grazovich. He’s Abkhazian, a military general and antiquities smuggler, among other things.”
    She felt a tight burn, right in the center of her chest. “Do you think he was the one shooting at me?” She searched the captain’s face. He’d make a superb poker player, if he had ambitions in that realm. He merely drilled her with a blank look. Then, as if satisfied with her confusion, he leaned back and blew out a breath. She felt tension release its death-hold crunch.
    “By the time we found the shooter’s perch, he was long gone. We’re combing it for evidence.”
    “I don’t understand. You think this man has been following me?” She shook her head. “Why?”
    The captain took the picture and stared at it for a long moment. She saw something dark flicker through his eyes and it sent a cold streak down her spine. “I’m not sure. Do you know anything about Bazooka rocket launchers or SAMs?”
    Her eyes widened.
    He smiled, and suddenly her stomach curled in delight. Was it her imagination, or had the midnight hours turned the Beast into someone kind and friendly? The shadows gentled his hard angles and, in the soft down of the night, he seemed even. . .attractive?
    So, maybe there was more to the rumored jet-lag induced dementia than she gave credence.
    He tucked the picture into the folder. “We’re not even sure you were the intended target tonight. Perhaps he was after me—”
    “But what about my hotel room?”
    He held up a hand. “We just need to consider all the possibilities if we’re going to unravel this mess.” He closed the file and folded his hands atop it. “Please, would you tell me why you are in Russia, and what you were doing today at the monastery?”
    Her heart stopped hard, right against her ribs, and for the first time since her arrival, she wanted to chuck this entire adventure and race back to New York and the ho-hum safety of Matthew’s arms.
    “Have you been following me?” Her voice sounded as pinched as her courage.
    He nodded, his face turning hard. “And you better be thankful I did, or you’d be on your way to the morgue