whatever happens afterwards, though. Got a funny feeling I’ll be needing them.”
It was clear she didn’t like the way he looked. “When was the last time you slept?” Zoya asked, and Court thought it over.
“Thirty hours, give or take.”
“Come here,” she said, and led him into the bathroom. Together they lay down on the bedding and clothing piled there. With barely enough room for both of them in the small space, they wrapped their arms around each other.
He moved to kiss her, and she kissed him back, but only for a moment.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Zack will be back soon. You need to rest.”
He couldn’t hide his disappointment.
“You’re ill, you’re wounded, you haven’t slept in a day and a half, and you need opioids and speed in order to function. You sleep, I’ll watch over you, and when Hightower gets here, I’ll see that he doesn’t disturb you.”
Court didn’t like this agenda. “I’m fine, Z.”
“You are the opposite of fine. Hanley runs us all like rented mules, but you’re the rented mule that goes off on his own and does other jobs.” She sighed. “You’re so . . .”
When she couldn’t find the words, Court smiled. “Relentless?”
But Zoya shook her head. “I was going to say ‘crazy.’”
“Right.”
“Go to sleep.”
She wrapped her arms around him tighter, and he fell asleep within minutes.
* * *
• • •
Court woke with his face planted in Zoya’s thick hair. These were unfamiliar surroundings, to be sure, but it filled him with a sense of calm.
He realized with a sudden clarity that nothing on his body hurt.
All the pain, all the death, the danger, it had all been washed away, even if for just a few hours, and even if it wouldn’t last long after waking.
He’d take it.
He’d spent countless nights in the past year thinking about Zoya, thinking about being with her, waking with his arms tight around her. It was happening, and he told himself everything else would have to wait.
He was going to enjoy this a minute.
He liked the feeling of her stirring in his embrace as she slowly woke, lifted her head, and looked around, almost childlike. He could tell she was in unfamiliar territory, as well. He was behind her, and soon she put her hands on his forearm over her body and squeezed it.
Her voice was raspy. “Hi.”
“Dobroye utro.” Good morning, Court replied in Russian.
She checked her watch, then rested her head on his shoulder and giggled. “It’s six fifteen p.m. I see sleep doesn’t do anything to improve your Russian.”
“And sleep doesn’t do anything to curb your sarcasm.”
They lay silently together a moment; Court tried to think of something to say, but Zoya spoke first.
“How are you feeling?”
“Never better.”
She sniffed out a little laugh. “On a bathroom floor sleeping on your underwear. That doesn’t say much for your life, does it?”
He laughed, too. “Right now, I’ve got no complaints.”
The door to the bedroom opened with a squeak. Both Zoya and Court grabbed their pistols, but before they could peek through the bathroom door, they heard Zack’s voice.
“Get your lazy asses up. An afternoon nap? What do you think this is? A Caribbean cruise?” When Court pushed open the door and squinted into the daylight, Zack looked at him and Zoya interlaced on the bathroom floor. “You two nutters are perfect for each other.” He turned to leave the room. “On your feet. You need to be showered, dressed, and downstairs in thirty. Teddy will take us to Hanley, then we’ll transfer vics and drive Hanley to the event ourselves.”
His voice boomed, full of fake levity. “We’re goin’ to a party, y’all. Don’t mind the fucking terrorists. Won’t this be fun?”
SIXTY-NINE
Zack Hightower stopped the BMW 5 Series at the checkpoint on the corner of Clayallee and Finkenstrasse and rolled down his window. In the front passenger seat, Court Gentry pulled his credentials and passed them over, and a uniformed police officer looked at them, then scanned them with a cell phone.
A second officer, this one wearing a shotgun around his neck, stood by the front passenger window. Court made quick eye contact with the man, who only nodded back his way, then continued scanning the vehicle.
Zoya was in the backseat next to Hanley, and she passed her ID over to him, while he rolled down his window and proffered both their credos and his invitation.
While an officer checked Hanley’s invitation and scanned the two IDs of the backseat passengers, Zack was instructed to pop the trunk and the hood. Men searched