Spirit Bound - Christine Feehan [29]
“I think that’s a good idea,” Stefan agreed. “If you don’t mind, I’ll keep my mind on the books for a little while.” Resolutely, Thomas Vincent turned his attention to the books lying open on the desk while Stefan Prakenskii centered his attention on his surroundings and the woman.
The front of the gallery was all tinted glass, allowing a magnificent view of the turbulent ocean, while still protecting the paintings and sculpture from the sun. It would be difficult, but not impossible to see inside during the day. With the lights on at night, it would be easy. The office was protected and there were obvious exits, four of them. It led into the back workroom, which provided even more cover as well as another exit.
He winced a little as Judith moved in front of the bank of windows, the lights exposing her exact position to anyone watching. He had to push down the desire to call her to him on some pretext, just to get her out from in front of those windows. She wasn’t in danger—yet—but she would be if Ivanov was close by. The man had no regard for life. He was a pure sociopath, and he loved his job. He lived for the killing of others. Stefan had long ago come to the conclusion that the man killed for enjoyment, not for duty. He wouldn’t see Judith’s brightness or her innocence and if he did, it wouldn’t matter. It might only add to his pleasure of taking her life.
Stefan sighed. Before setting up a meeting with Frank Warner, he had slipped into Sea Haven a couple of weeks earlier and spent time there setting up for his mission. He had already walked through the village numerous times, familiarizing himself with every street and alley, every conceivable hiding place and escape route. He’d driven the highway again and again, investigating the side roads that led away from the sea until he knew he could run them in the dark at high speeds. He’d set up several escape routes and already secured a storage facility where he kept money and passports in various names.
Petr Ivanov would come, if he hadn’t already. Stefan knew he’d been set up. One didn’t use his talents to babysit an old girlfriend on the unlikely chance that a prisoner the secret branch of the government was breaking out of a prison would elude the very agents helping him escape. That made no sense. His being in Sea Haven wasn’t about Judith Henderson or Jean-Claude La Roux—it was about finding Lev Prakenskii and eliminating him. And his handler would know Ivanov would have to kill him too. They couldn’t leave Stefan alive.
He rubbed his temples. Why had they decided to retire a couple of their best operatives? Was there a purge going on for a reason? Had some reporter uncovered the truth about the “orphanages” that had really been schools to train agents and assassins. In the new government, with the alliances that had been formed, it might not be in the best interests of the country to have those schools discovered.
“Headache?” Judith asked sympathetically. “I’ve got aspirin in the medicine cabinet.”
She’d been watching him just as closely as he’d been observing her.
“I think I’ll call it a night if you don’t mind. Too much traveling and not enough sleep.” It would give him another excuse to see her again after the tractor ride.
“Of course I don’t mind.” Judith was as agreeable as he knew she’d be. He was a master manipulator, trained in the best schools, every lesson a life or death one. He had survived and someone like Judith had no chance against him. He tasted bitterness in his mouth and kept his eyes averted as she locked up the safe.
4
THE moment Stefan stepped outside the gallery into the coolness of the night, he knew he was in the biggest trouble of his life. Maybe in for the biggest fight for his life. It wasn’t the sniper who had him in the crosshairs, or the itch on the back of his neck that told him the assassin was definitely in the small village of Sea Haven. He was an operative, trained practically from birth to use people, surroundings, anything and everything as tools—yet instinctively, without thought, he put himself between