Chapter 62

Chapter Sixty-Two

F ireworks sounded in the distance, but even though Chris knew to expect it, he was so focused on Diana that when he drove by the wastewater treatment plant, he was startled by the sudden blasts in sequence.

They were near the end of the display, then.

Smoke filled the air as planned. It was a convincing hoax.

Maxim had to be feeling really good about now. Social media was already lighting up with reports of blasts on the base. He knew because they'd recruited several base residents to start posting within moments of the first fake blast.

It had been four minutes. Two more and the show would be over.

If the man had harmed Diana, Chris wouldn't hesitate to kill him. He never should have left her alone during the marathon work session, but she'd assured him she was fine—nearly fully recovered from surgery a week ago.

They'd all been so focused on the danger Kira had been in, he'd forgotten to protect Diana.

He'd sent her a text right after he settled in the driver's seat. He'd been careful in the wording in case her phone wasn't in her hands.

Chris

Long day. I want a Moscow Mule when I get home. Do we have vodka?

It was an inane message, but unusual for him. Diana loved Moscow Mules, Chris did not. The message would at minimum tell her something was up, but it never hurt to mention Moscow when one was concerned about Russian terrorists.

Unfortunately, "unable to send" underscored the message in red. Was the trouble on his end, or hers?

Diana was in the crossfire not because she'd brought down a terrorist and an American oligarch, but because she shared Chris's address.

Because he loved her and had begged her to move in with him.

He should have been smart like Xavier and gotten a new house and put it in Diana's name. But he'd only purchased this one last summer. And they'd never actually known if Laskin had his and Xavier's names or if only Mikhail, the man who ran the attack on the lodge, had known.

But of course, Mikhail had known Maxim—had worked with him for decades. Even if Mikhail didn't tell Grigory the names of the SEALs, he would have told Maxim.

And Maxim had worked on the base for several months doing maintenance here and there. He could easily have been looking for Chris and when he found him, followed him home, and identified Diana.

Chris was already driving too fast, but he pressed the accelerator harder. A mile from home.

When he reached his neighborhood, he slowed. He didn't bother to drive by the house. No point in letting Maxim see him casing his own residence. He parked a block away and turned to his quickly selected Fire Team.

"We'll cut through the houses behind mine. Kramer and Burns, you enter at the ground floor." He handed them keys. "Back door isn't a slider."

He turned to Collins. "You're with me. There's a small balcony off the primary bedroom that overlooks the backyard. Door is probably locked, but might not be. The lock is cheap, though. Been meaning to upgrade, but there are no steps to the balcony, so I kept putting it off. Also not a slider."

"You're certain only Diana is supposed to be in the house?"

He nodded. "Anyone in that house with her is a hostile. She planned to watch the fireworks on TV. She didn't know anything about the display being targeted. She's still recovering from surgery and said she'd probably go to sleep after the show, but it's only a little after nine. She might be listening to an audiobook or podcast. She often does that before bed."

"Headphones on means she might not hear an intruder," Kramer said.

Chris nodded. That might be for the best. Maxim could be lying in wait for him, leaving her none the wiser. At this point, Chris had no doubt she wasn't alone in that house.

He could feel it.