Dangerous Allies. Renee Ryan

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      Her brows drew together. “No, I’m pretty sure I’ve thought through all the details.”

      “Your mother is throwing the party for the admiral. Your attendance at such an illustrious occasion will be expected. How are you going to pull off the last of our two trips to Wilhelmshaven while at a cocktail party in Hamburg?”

      Her expression closed. “I’ll handle my mother. She won’t even miss me.”

      “And her fiancé? Somehow, I doubt he’ll be so…inattentive.”

      “I’ll deal with him, as well.”

      He gave her a doubtful glare.

      “You’re going to have to trust me.”

      Trust. It always came back to trust. But Jack had lost that particular quality, along with his faith in God, the same night the real Reiter had come for his blood.

      “And if you’re caught tonight?” he asked in a deceptively calm voice.

      “I won’t be.”

      “If you are.”

      She lifted her chin, looking every bit a woman with royal blood running through her veins. “Failure is never an option.”

      Jack’s sentiments exactly.

      If he took out the personal elements running thick between them and ignored the fact that Kerensky was a woman—a woman he couldn’t completely trust—not only could her plan work, but it had a very high probability of success.

      Her voice broke through his thoughts. “It’s getting late. The drive to Wilhelmshaven will take almost two hours each way.”

      He glanced at his watch, looked at her evening gown and jewels then down at his own tuxedo. “We both need to change.”

      “Yes. We’ll take my car, which is still at the theater.” Which they both knew was only three blocks from her home.

      “Right, then. We’ll meet outside the theater at—” he began before he checked his watch again “—0130 hours. I trust that suits you?”

      Head high, she moved to the front door and jerked it open without looking back at him. “Of course.”

      He reached around her and swung the door shut with a bang.

      She spun about to glare at him. “What are you doing?”

      Reminding us both who’s in control.

      With nothing showing on his face, he angled his forearm against the wall above her head and waited until her eyes lifted to his. “I leave the way I came.”

      She took a hard breath but held his gaze. For an instant, he was struck again by her determination and courage.

      The back of his throat began to burn.

      “Then I drive,” she said without blinking.

      “By all means.” He pushed away and headed toward the open window, but then he surprised them both by returning to her and cupping her cheek. “I’m warning you now, Katarina. At the first sign of trouble, we abort. No questions asked.”

      “Whatever you say, Herr Reiter.” The mutinous light in her eyes ruined any pretense of compliance on her part.

      Jack sensed he was in serious trouble with this woman. He had to get matters back in his control. “One more thing,” he said.

      She angled her head at him.

      “Make sure you dress warmly.” He shifted to the window, dipped and then swung his leg over the ledge. “It’s going to be a long, chilly night.”

      Chapter Six

      The drive to Wilhelmshaven began in silence, and continued that way for most of the journey. Sitting in the passenger’s seat, Jack surveyed the passing landscape. There was no horizon, no clear distinction between land and sky, just an inky blend of dark and darker. An occasional shadow slid out of the night, only to retreat as they sped by. Wind shrieked through the invisible slits of the car’s windows.

      Concentrating on the road, Kerensky drove cautiously, with both hands on the wheel. She hadn’t looked at Jack since they’d left the city limits of Hamburg. Which was just as well. Between the poor quality of the road and the poorer quality of the car’s headlights, driving required her undivided attention.

      He took the opportunity to study her out of the corner of his eye. She was dressed head to toe in black wool. Black pants, black sweater, black gloves—the perfect ensemble for blending with the night. She’d slicked her thick, fiery hair off her face and twisted it into an intricate braid that hung halfway down her back.

      He could almost feel the vibration of her carefully contained energy. Like a sleek, untamed animal poised for a fight.

      She baffled him, tugged at him. She had a face meant for the movies and was so lovely his chest ached every time he looked at her. But he also knew how much depth lay below that exquisite surface.

      Never once had he caught a hint of the corruption or selfishness that drove most spies. His instincts told him that she had her own personal agenda for working with the British. Those same instincts also told him that her motivation was connected to a dark secret she kept well hidden from the world.

      He understood all about dark secrets and hidden motives, as well as the moral confusion that came from lying and stealing every day. For too many years, Jack had relinquished his Christian integrity—no, his very soul—to carry out other men’s agendas. German. American. What did it matter if he was Jack Anderson, Friedrich Reiter, or someone else entirely? One face, two names, no identity. Those were the legacies the bureaucrats had created for him.

      Now this woman, with her strength and determination, made him think beyond the mindless killing machine he’d become. She made him toy with the idea of a future beyond the war. He suddenly wanted something…more. More than hate. More than vengeance. Something that went beyond his own humanity.

      Worst of all, the woman made him hope for a better world, where belief in God meant something beyond a faded memory.

      This was the wrong business to feel emotions, any emotion, especially ones that made him soft toward a woman.

      “You’re too beautiful,” he blurted out.

      She whipped her head around so their gazes met in the dim light.

      She gave a deep sigh of frustration before returning her attention to the road. “It’s called heredity.”

      Heredity. Right. The word tugged at a thought hovering in the back of his mind. Jack forced himself to remember he was having this conversation for her benefit. “Your beauty could be used against you.” He’d seen it often enough.

      “Or to my advantage. Lucky for you, there’s more to me than a pretty face.” She sounded weary, as though she’d given this speech countless times before.

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