Chapter 29

29

The marble floors of the Georgian house echoed under Leonid Bychkov’s rapid stride as his brother Zak matched his pace.

As owner of Guardsmen Security, he was used to setting a demanding tempo. He cast an appreciative eye over the ornate cornices and elaborate plasterwork. MI6 had commandeered the mansion, a masterpiece of Georgian architecture with its symmetrical facade and large sash windows. Its grand rooms, once host to lavish soirées and political intrigues of a bygone era, now buzzed with a very different activity.

As they passed open doorways, Leo caught snatches of the soft click of keyboards and the murmur of urgent conversations. Stern-faced nobility gazed down from gilt-framed portraits, their expressions disapproving at the modern intrusion.

“Quite the setup they’ve got,” Zak observed, just loud enough for Leo to hear.

Leo nodded, but his mind was elsewhere.

Kat’s here. Somewhere.

“You good?” Zak’s eyes narrowed, sensing a shift.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Leo fired him a sharp glance.

“Because… Kat.” Zak tugged at the tie he’d bothered to wear for the occasion.

Leo pressed his teeth together. “Maybe you should have left the tie at home.”

Zak gave up on the tie and shook his head. “Fine. Whatever. Stay locked in that head of yours. What do I know?”

Leo exhaled. Time to change the subject. “I think this is us.” He motioned toward the door. The brass handle gleamed under the soft light from the wall sconces.

Meeting room S6.

Kat had arranged this in-person briefing, insisting no form of digital communication could be trusted. As soon as she’d confirmed the meeting, he’d flown to England. He rubbed a hand over his scar, feeling the familiar ridge under his fingers. What should’ve been a straightforward security detail in Iceland had spiraled into something else entirely.

But Raptor was involved. He shouldn’t be surprised.

Zak gave the door a quick knock, not waiting for a response before stepping inside.

The room had surrendered to modern efficiency—all blank walls and identical chairs around an oval table. But overhead, an enormous crystal chandelier defied the corporate makeover, painting the walls with rainbow light.

Zak’s eyes tracked the play of light. “Someone forgot to send the chandelier the memo about the dress code.”

The woman at the back of the room turned to face them.

Kat. Holy hell.

There she was. The cause of all his restless, frustrating dreams.

Leo clenched his teeth, wishing it were later in the day—when a shot of bourbon might take the edge off the moment.

No such luck.

Her arms were folded, auburn hair pulled back from her face, framing those striking cheekbones and intelligent eyes. His pulse spiked, an involuntary reaction he hated himself for. No matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check, his body always betrayed him around her. It didn’t help that she was effortlessly stunning in that form-fitting midnight-blue dress, one that highlighted every tempting curve. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder in soft waves, and small silver hoops glinted in her ears.

Rein it in, Bychkov.

Now his brain processed the lean man with glasses sitting at the table. His face rang a bell.

“Leonid. It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long.” Her voice was pure honey—richer and warmer than it ever sounded over the distance of a video screen. “This is Einar Gunnerson. He’s Head of Research at Hellisheidi. He was concerned for his staff member, Dr. Jonsdottir, and flew out specially for the meeting.”

“Hi. I’m Leo Bychkov. Guardsmen Security. We’ve spoken on the phone.” Leo shook Gunnerson’s hand.

Einar’s thinning hair was finger-combed into nervous disarray. “Yes. So good to meet you in person.” Something flickered beneath his polite smile, but it was gone before Leo could pin it. “Thank you for all the care your team has taken over Freya.”

“Our pleasure.” Leo turned his attention to Kat. Her handshake caught him off guard. Professional, brief—yet the fleeting contact sent electricity skating up his arm. “It’s good to see you too, Kat.” He kept his voice neutral even as that familiar pull tugged at him, the one he’d been trying so hard to ignore.

Kat’s gaze shifted to Zak. “Zakhar Bychkov. One of the Bychkov brothers. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Landon.” Zak eyed Leo. “I hope we can be of service.”

“Yes. The work you did with Alina Anderson on locating the Architect was impressive.”

“Nothing like trying to find a needle in a freezing, pitch-black haystack at the bottom of the world.” Zak grinned, delivering the line with his trademark charm—the one that in the past led to spontaneous phone number appearances and occasional wedding ring removals.

Leo watched Kat before his brain could override the instinct. Stupid. Zak had eyes for no one but Alina. But old habits died hard—especially when they involved beautiful women and his younger brother. He needn’t have worried. Kat’s gaze swept past Zak like he was part of the furniture, landing back on him with an intensity that made his pulse stutter in his throat.

“Please, sit.” Kat gestured toward the table. “We’ve got coffee. Cookies, even. MI6 is rolling out the red carpet.”

She poured coffee with fluid grace, sliding his cup across the table. “Fox and Knight are en route with Freya Jonsdottir. They docked this afternoon—our car’s collecting them.” She settled against the table’s edge, her blue dress riding up an inch.

Dear God.

His fingers found the table’s edge, the wood creaking under his grip as he sucked air into his lungs. “Thank you.”

“Anything to make things run smoothly, Leonid.” The way she said his name, her British accent wrapped around Russian vowels, did things to his brain he couldn’t afford right now. “We’re all on the same side, after all—stopping Raptor from doing whatever it pleases, without concern for human life or the law.”

She turned away, and it took all his willpower to not stare at how her dress followed every curve like a second skin. She was all sleek beauty and poised confidence. It was too easy to forget she could kill you in twelve different ways before you hit the ground.

His blood burned hot beneath his skin, reason wrestling with desire. Distance or surrender—it didn’t matter. She’d already breached every defense he had.

He might as well admit it.

He was a fucking mess.

“ Leonid ?” Zak’s words shook him from his introspection.

“Your point?” Leo’s returning stare was deadpan. No one but their mother called him Leonid. But Kat did, and fuck, he liked it.

Zak shook his head, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

A noise from outside the meeting room gave Leo a welcome distraction. He turned as the door opened. Fox entered first, followed by a blonde woman. Abe was right behind her, his body positioned protectively close, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Leo had seen pictures of her from his research, but the woman before him might as well have stepped out of a different file. Next to him, Zak swore under his breath.

So, he wasn’t the only one expecting something else.

Gone was the severe updo from her file photos, replaced by hair that cascaded down her back. Business polish had been traded for faded blue dungarees and a crumpled pink shirt. Despite twenty-four hours on an astute class submarine, her cheeks glowed pink and her eyes were bright.

“Fox. Abe.” Leo rose to greet his men.

They acknowledged him with matching nods, Fox taking position by the door, his attention sweeping the room. Vigilant, as always.

“Leo, this is Dr. Freya Jonsdottir. She’s the lead archivist for the analysis and integration of all the Raptor data.” Abe guided her to a seat, his body angled between her and the door.

Leo knew that protective stance.

Training taught you how to guard an asset—but not with that kind of care.

That was personal.