Read Online Red Heat by Nina Bruhns - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nina Bruhns
Tags: Suspense
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deep, steadying breath. Pushed the memory back where it belonged . . . as the inspiration for her fierce dedication to her job. Not as the source of her life’s biggest sorrow.
“You okay?” Rufus Edwards whispered.
She popped her eyes open. “Yeah,” she said. She plastered a wry smile on her lips and lied. “Just a touch of seasickness. The whole ocean thing . . .”
He nodded, but his concern didn’t entirely melt away. “If you ever, you know, need anything . . . to talk or whatnot . . . just give me a holler.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that,” she returned gratefully, suspecting a deeper, fatherly message in his offer. “But I’ll be okay. Honest. And thanks.”
“We Americans got to stick together,” he stage-whispered with another disarming wink. “All these darn foreigners around.”
Young Dr. Josh pretended to bristle. “Hey!”
“Shit, not you, Doc,” Edwards told him with a laid-back grin. “Hell, y’all up in the Great White North are as American as we are.”
“God forbid,” the Canadian said with only half-mocked horror, and everyone laughed.
Everyone except Clint. His dark eyes searched Julie’s for a moment, then slid away to the female scientist at the next table who was beginning to speak about her project.
A sudden chill trickled down Julie’s spine. She wondered what the UUV pilot had been thinking about to cause such a harsh expression.
Probably nothing relevant, she told herself. How could it be? No one on the submarine knew her true reason for being there. Even Nikolai was only guessing.
She hoped.
Maybe Clint Walker just didn’t like her fraternizing with the Russian commander. Though why he’d think it was any of his damn business, she couldn’t guess.
Not that she disagreed. She didn’t like it, either. None of it . . . Not that Nikolai suspected her of being a spy. Not that he’d essentially blackmailed her into sharing his stateroom—for purposes she suspected ran far deeper than just wanting to get lucky. And not that Nikolai was Russian—the one nationality she would never, could never, accept as a friend, let alone anything more.
But she especially hated the fact that, despite all the very compelling reasons to doubt and despise Nikolai Kirillovich Romanov, she was still attracted to him. More than she wanted to admit. To herself. Certainly to him.
It was exactly the kind of dangerous, insidious attraction for the enemy that her CIA training had warned her about, over and over. An attraction that could easily cost her the mission and jeopardize her country’s security.
An attraction that could threaten her very life.
Somehow she had to fight it. And win.
If only she knew how. . . .
5
She was taking photos.
Or was it videos? Nikolai couldn’t tell what kind of camera Julie was using. They all looked the same these days. But whatever it was, the images she was capturing were fairly puzzling.
He’d been observing her for the past half hour, hanging well back as she wandered through the rabbit warren of the motor and engineering spaces at the rear of the submarine pretending to take pictures of the scientists and crew. In reality, she was aiming her lens at every piece of Ostrov ’s pipes, instruments, and hardware, as well as the small metal plates that labeled them.
The entire boat had been stripped of any sensitive or classified equipment, so it didn’t really matter what she was taking pictures of. But labels? Surely, after forty years the Americans had plenty of detailed photos and schematics of Project 636 Kilo-class submarines and all the equipment on board. As vessels went, Ostrov was a limping dinosaur. What could possibly be Julie’s purpose in photographing these things?
“Shall I take one of you?” he asked, coming up behind her and grasping the camera.
She spun, surprise letting it slide from her grip. “What? Oh, no, I—”
Too late. He’d already started shooting. “Smile, dorogaya . No, smile , love. Not a frown.
“You okay?” Rufus Edwards whispered.
She popped her eyes open. “Yeah,” she said. She plastered a wry smile on her lips and lied. “Just a touch of seasickness. The whole ocean thing . . .”
He nodded, but his concern didn’t entirely melt away. “If you ever, you know, need anything . . . to talk or whatnot . . . just give me a holler.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that,” she returned gratefully, suspecting a deeper, fatherly message in his offer. “But I’ll be okay. Honest. And thanks.”
“We Americans got to stick together,” he stage-whispered with another disarming wink. “All these darn foreigners around.”
Young Dr. Josh pretended to bristle. “Hey!”
“Shit, not you, Doc,” Edwards told him with a laid-back grin. “Hell, y’all up in the Great White North are as American as we are.”
“God forbid,” the Canadian said with only half-mocked horror, and everyone laughed.
Everyone except Clint. His dark eyes searched Julie’s for a moment, then slid away to the female scientist at the next table who was beginning to speak about her project.
A sudden chill trickled down Julie’s spine. She wondered what the UUV pilot had been thinking about to cause such a harsh expression.
Probably nothing relevant, she told herself. How could it be? No one on the submarine knew her true reason for being there. Even Nikolai was only guessing.
She hoped.
Maybe Clint Walker just didn’t like her fraternizing with the Russian commander. Though why he’d think it was any of his damn business, she couldn’t guess.
Not that she disagreed. She didn’t like it, either. None of it . . . Not that Nikolai suspected her of being a spy. Not that he’d essentially blackmailed her into sharing his stateroom—for purposes she suspected ran far deeper than just wanting to get lucky. And not that Nikolai was Russian—the one nationality she would never, could never, accept as a friend, let alone anything more.
But she especially hated the fact that, despite all the very compelling reasons to doubt and despise Nikolai Kirillovich Romanov, she was still attracted to him. More than she wanted to admit. To herself. Certainly to him.
It was exactly the kind of dangerous, insidious attraction for the enemy that her CIA training had warned her about, over and over. An attraction that could easily cost her the mission and jeopardize her country’s security.
An attraction that could threaten her very life.
Somehow she had to fight it. And win.
If only she knew how. . . .
5
She was taking photos.
Or was it videos? Nikolai couldn’t tell what kind of camera Julie was using. They all looked the same these days. But whatever it was, the images she was capturing were fairly puzzling.
He’d been observing her for the past half hour, hanging well back as she wandered through the rabbit warren of the motor and engineering spaces at the rear of the submarine pretending to take pictures of the scientists and crew. In reality, she was aiming her lens at every piece of Ostrov ’s pipes, instruments, and hardware, as well as the small metal plates that labeled them.
The entire boat had been stripped of any sensitive or classified equipment, so it didn’t really matter what she was taking pictures of. But labels? Surely, after forty years the Americans had plenty of detailed photos and schematics of Project 636 Kilo-class submarines and all the equipment on board. As vessels went, Ostrov was a limping dinosaur. What could possibly be Julie’s purpose in photographing these things?
“Shall I take one of you?” he asked, coming up behind her and grasping the camera.
She spun, surprise letting it slide from her grip. “What? Oh, no, I—”
Too late. He’d already started shooting. “Smile, dorogaya . No, smile , love. Not a frown.
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