Operation Lost Princess by Misty Evans

Author:Misty Evans [Evans, Misty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781948686235
Publisher: Beach Path Publishing, LLC

23

Yes! Relief flooded Anya from head to toe. She was going to stop Ivanov and Ryan didn’t think she was crazy. He wasn’t even acting weird over their kiss.

Maybe good, maybe bad. Had it meant so little to him?

Get over yourself, Anya, and quit wasting time.

The thought of returning to Ivanov’s private chambers and searching for evidence about reactivated missiles, and his deal with the Iranians, kick-started the dread in her chest. But Ryan’s hand was so warm, so firm against hers, she didn’t linger on the unpleasant thought. The future—even if it was only a few hours away—didn’t matter as much as that moment. He believed her; that was the most important part of her plan. They were together, if only for a few stolen moments once again.

She didn’t want to release his hand, but had been holding it and squeezing it several seconds longer than necessary. Pure and simple, she was acting like a dork. Like a lovesick teenager meeting her boy-band crush. “Sorry.” She dropped his hand and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m exhausted, and freaked out over my grandmother, and, uh, a little nervous.”

His lips quirked to one side. “Tell me more about your grandmother. Was blackmailing you into returning to Moscow the only reason Ivanov kidnapped her? What about this code?”

Stumped, she frowned. “I don’t have a clue. Why would my grandmother have a nuclear weapon code? The idea is ridiculous.”

He studied her for a moment as if giving her time to think. Her brain honed in on that, and the thought she’d had several times surfaced. Was Grams a threat to Ivanov? Did she have proof he’d killed her parents? Did she indeed know a code that could launch missiles?

Before her brain could answer, Ryan dismissed his question with a shrug. “I don’t recommend stealing anything from Ivanov’s office. We’ll figure out another way to get hard evidence.”

A spurt of panic ran through her. “I can do it. I’ve already stolen something. Here.” She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, fingers shaking so bad, she fumbled with the job before retrieving the folded up warrants from her bra.

As she unfolded them, Ryan’s eyes—locked on her display of cleavage—widened and his brows disappeared under the hair on his forehead. She’d shocked him. Because she’d stolen something from Ivanov, or because she’d hidden it in her bra?

Using her free hand to draw the edges of her blouse together, she handed the paper to him. “KGB execution warrants. For my parents, and initialed by one MYI.”

Ryan tore his gaze away from her cleavage and took the paper. He scanned the first paper, brows returning to their normal place on his face, then sinking into a frown.

Anya buttoned her blouse and moved beside him to read the second warrant. The scent of soap, and that clean, spicy aftershave, enveloped her. The smell was so completely opposite Ivanov, it was, in and of itself, reassuring. She inhaled.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, her close presence seeming to make him nervous.

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