Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

" D r. Hanson, can I walk you back to your hotel?" Reuben Kulik asked.

Kira had been slowly making her way to the door, figuring her work here was done for the night, but the question made her pause. She wanted to talk to the man, but needed time to see what she could find out about him first. From what Juliette had said, she surmised Kulik owned this gallery.

Was this a rich man's hobby, or something else?

She hadn't planned to tap into Friday Morning Valkyries' resources for this—after all, this was a personal matter, and she had reason to fear what would be found—but Freya had insisted on updates, and now with Rand here, Freya would know if she held back names.

He was here to protect her, she assumed, but he was also Freya's spy. His allegiance would be to FMV. If her father really was an art thief, that was not something she wanted Freya—or anyone—to know.

She smiled at Kulik, but before she could speak, Rand jumped in. "Sorry, but Dr. Hanson and I have plans."

This was news to her, but she wouldn't out the lie. Even though she was tempted.

She appreciated that he'd traveled nearly one-fifth the circumference of the Earth to protect her, but that didn't mean he could come in like a steamroller and make decisions for her.

This was her trip. One she had taken for a very specific reason that he knew nothing about. There would be places she would go and people she would meet without him. The last thing she would allow was a man she barely knew to seize her autonomy.

She gave Rand a stiff smile, then turned to Kulik. "Are you free tomorrow for a drink? Say, five o'clock at the bar across from the Co-Cathedral?" That should give her time to dig a little, but soon enough to appease his ego at tonight's rejection.

"That would be perfect. Yes. Just the two of us." His gaze flicked to Rand.

"Of course." That was, in fact, why she'd chosen the open-air bar on the busy street.

Kulik took her hand and kissed it, then gave Rand a smug smile before stepping outside.

Kira thanked the gallery manager one last time, then turned for the door, not bothering to see if Rand followed.

She stepped out onto the cobbled street that fronted the gallery. Like most of the streets in the city interior, it was pedestrian only. Strings of lights zigzagged across the road connecting the limestone buildings that faced each other. The result was pretty and festive on the sultry early summer evening.

Rand stepped up beside her as she reached the intersection with the wide main road that stretched across the peak of Valletta from the Triton Fountain just outside the city gate to Fort St. Elmo on the sea.

"You won't be meeting with that man alone," he said softly.

"I most certainly will." Her voice was at her normal volume. No one was close enough to hear, and she didn't care if they were.

"You're angry."

"Gee, I wonder why?"

"Because I'm here? I'm not stalking you."

"I never thought you were."

He stopped and grabbed her arm as they neared a restaurant with dozens of customers sitting at tables that lined the thoroughfare. "Kira, I'm here to protect you." Again, his voice was low.

She shook off his arm. "That was your choice, not mine. And it doesn't mean you get to dictate what I do. This is my trip, Lieutenant Commander. One I've been waiting to take my entire life . I have people I need to meet with while I'm here. You do not get to boss me around or accept or decline invitations for me. If that's how this is going to be, you can take the next flight home."

"It's not safe?—"

"And I'm not a Valkyrie. I know what you and Freya think of me. It doesn't mean you get to decide what I do on my trip."

"What I think of you? I didn't?—"

She held up a hand. "Explain why you think you have the right to speak for me or object to plans I make with others in Malta?"

He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. "I don't. You're right. I'm sorry."

The quick apology helped, but she remained tense. Only time would tell if he meant it or if he was simply being placating and intended to control her every move over the next two weeks. Of course, that assumed his plan was to stay and not to demand she leave. She wouldn't put it past him. Five thousand miles was a long way to travel to play companion when it would be easier to drag her home so he could get back to his team.

He'd made it clear on Tuesday he didn't want her to go to Malta at all.

"I'm not leaving, if that's your intention. This trip is too important to me."

He shook his head. "I'm not here to convince you to go home."

"Then how long are you here for? For real this time."

"Either until you head home or the Navy yanks me back. If my team is tapped for a mission, I'll have to go."

"What, you haven't gone AWOL just for me?"

He let out a soft snort. "I'd need more than a hunch you're in danger for that."

"So we aren't at DEFCON 5. Good to know."

"Five is lowest danger. DEFCON 1 is the highest."

"What are we then?"

He shrugged. "Three?"

She'd been hoping for four, but three was reasonable.

"Can we at least talk about your plans, make decisions together?" he asked.

"It depends on if that means talk about it until I agree to do what you want or if I get to make my own informed decisions." She turned and resumed walking. "I'd like to point out that I didn't invite you to join me."

"If you were given a choice, would you have?"

She thought about the question and finally said, "I don't know."

"I couldn't take the chance you'd say no."

"You're failing to acknowledge that I can still say no. Just because you're here doesn't make you the boss of me. I had an employer who wanted to control me once. I'll never let that happen again."

Rand stopped again, but this time, he didn't grab her arm to detain her. "Fuck, Kira. I'm not like him. I'm not trying to control you?—"

She stopped and faced him. "I want to believe you, but you're going to have to rein in your SEAL team commander impulses and show me you aren't that guy."

"You want me to prove it by leaving? Give me a chance. Please."

"I'm not asking you to leave. Just don't blindside me again or speak for me to make me do what you want without consulting me."

He nodded. "Do you want to get a drink? Have a bite to eat? Or go back to the hotel and talk?"

She smirked, remembering all of Freya's questions about hotels and plans she'd made. "Why do I think we're staying in the same hotel?" She narrowed her gaze. "You have your own room, right?"

"Yes, and yes. I'm not here to seduce you. Your ‘no' was loud and clear."

"Good." He was going to be distracting enough. Best to have ground rules.

T ables were set up in the middle of the street to serve patrons of the restaurants on a road that was just a few blocks uphill from their hotel. Kira's eyes lit up as she exclaimed over the transformation of street to restaurant dining area.

Damn but she was beautiful.

Rand cursed himself again for how badly he'd screwed up. She was right about him taking command. For him, this was an op, and he'd been a team commander for years. He knew how to take orders from above, but in action, he consulted with Chris and others, then made the call.

He held out a chair for Kira in the middle of the cobblestone road in front of a small Italian restaurant. She sank into the seat, her smile warm with delight as live music boomed through streets lit with small sparkling lights.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then circled the small table to sit across from her. Loud music and chatter meant he needed to lean across the table to be heard, which he didn't mind at all.

A waiter took their drink orders, then left them alone. Rand offered her his hand across the table. To his great relief, she took it.

The feel of her palm against his triggered something in his chest. Handholding had never felt like his before. She was perfect. Unharmed. He would make sure she stayed that way.

He ran a thumb over her knuckles. The calloused pad probably felt like sandpaper against her smooth skin. "Can we start over?"

She nodded. Her fingers tightened on his. "I do appreciate the—literal—lengths you've gone to be here. For me."

"I failed you before. I won't let that happen again."

She frowned. " You failed me? You took out the gunman on the base. I'd probably be dead if not for you."

He shook his head, his hand tightening on hers. "No. In December. I saw how he looked at you. I was too focused on trying to get a date with you to listen to my gut. I should have protected you."

She slipped her hand from his. His palm felt cold without her touch even though the evening was warm. "Rand, no one could have predicted what happened to me. It's not your fault any more than it was Freya's or mine."

"But it's my job to identify threats. And he not only threatened you in front of me, he took a swing."

"Which you stopped. He didn't hurt me. And he made threats all the time that never amounted to anything." She sighed. "Listen, I know you're a badass SEA?—"

He gave a sharp shake of his head and reached under the table to touch her knee. He hadn't stopped her from using his rank when they were alone on the street, but now they were surrounded by people. It was noisy, but there were momentary lulls in the music and conversations. They needed to be discreet.

She nodded and said, "Secret author." She flashed a wry smile at her save, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. "But your… work isn't the real world. The threats you see aren't normal for an art historian like me. If you'd done anything to try to convince me I was in danger that night, I'd have been convinced you were the danger, refusing to take no for an answer when I turned you down. The last thing I need—then, or now—is another man who can't accept a no. If you'd pushed me, I'd have deleted your number the moment I was inside my building."

"I hear you, but it doesn't change the fact that I didn't see a threat right in front of my face."

"So you traveled nearly five thousand miles because you feel like you owe me some kind of debt?"

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Their waiter was approaching with their drinks. "No. I flew five thousand miles to research my next book." He leaned slightly forward. "Now, isn't it past time you tell me why you flew five thousand miles? Your very first trip outside the US and you chose Malta?"

Their waiter, a dark-skinned man who looked to be in his twenties, spoke as he placed their drinks on the table. "The beautiful lady has good taste. Why not Malta?"

Rand laughed. "Of course. It's just not the usual first destination for an American with no genetic ties to Malta." He met Kira's gaze. "Your father's parents were from Germany and your mother from Russia, right?"

She nodded. "I do plan to go to Germany next."

"Why did you choose Malta, then?" the waiter asked as he held the empty drink tray to his chest, invested now.

"I'm an art historian, and Malta…" She waved an arm to indicate the cobbled street and limestone architecture that was so unique. "It's an historic work of art."

"The lady is beautiful, with good taste, and very smart."

Kira grinned at the young man. "Thank you." She then proceeded to ask him questions about the menu in Italian, which he answered in the same language.

Rand was reminded of the moment last December when she'd donned a Valkyrie mantle and he'd seen her for the siren she was. He placed his dinner order far less gracefully.

After the waiter left, he asked, "How did you know he speaks Italian?" Sure, the menu was written in both languages, but the man had a Maltese accent and Italian was not an official language.

"I heard him talking to another table." She nodded to an elderly couple seated behind him a few tables away.

Given the noise and their own intense conversation, she shouldn't have been able to hear or pay attention to the other table's chatter. But if there had been a lull in the music, the Italian words might have stood out. Or Kira was better trained in the ways of the Valkyries than she'd let on.