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She raised her head, staring into his eyes. “I don’t have the egg. I never did.”
“The recording…”
“I know what you saw. I have a copy of the pertinent part. I believe if you will allow me to show you, you’ll find it was Agata dressed in my clothes who took your precious egg.” Emerson shot Agata a look. “By the way, you can keep those. I’ll never wear them again.”
VIKTOR
Emerson was not reacting the way he’d thought she would: wailing and pleading for his forgiveness. Instead of running after her like a lovesick swain, he’d been conducting his own investigation. When he’d slowed the tape down, it had been obvious the thief wasn’t Emerson. She didn’t move with Emerson’s strength and grace. How was he going to make this up to her?
“How dare you?” Agata said, raising her hand as if to strike Emerson.
“Touch a hair on her head, and I will kill you,” said Viktor in a tone of voice that made the Arctic look like it was having a heatwave. “After a more careful and critical look at the recording, I have come to the same conclusion. Why, Agata?”
“Because she isn’t good enough for you. Her and her deviant ways…”
“They are my deviant ways, as well, Agata.”
“That is different. You are a man and a Romanov; you cannot control the beast that lives within you. It is one of the weaknesses of the male line of your family. It and the English disease have always been a part of your lineage.”
“Nice try. Hemophilia travels on the female side. Where is the egg?”
“I will give it back to you, and all will be well,” said Agata.
Viktor could see Emerson’s growing anger and knew she was about to strike. He placed his hand on the top of her head. “Hush, malenkaya. I will handle this. You know, Agata, I would almost believe you if it weren’t for your lock-picking and security system disarming skills. KGB—or whatever they call themselves these days—or perhaps the Bratva?”
“Never,” spat Agata. “You are working with MI-6 and those who wish to hurt Mother Russia.”
“I no longer work for MI-6.”
“No. Now you work for Cerberus. You are a Romanov. You could be a symbol to our people who have waited so long.”
“You are fucking delusional,” said Emerson, batting his hand away and getting to her feet. “You tried to frame me, you bitch.”
Before Emerson could do or say more, Agata produced a knife and waved it back and forth. “If you will not return to your people, your death will be used as a sign for our people to rise up and take back our country from those who ruined it.”
Outside, the storm had increased in intensity. Intermittent flashes of lightning streaked across the sky in brief, stark bursts. Before Viktor could react, Agata lunged at him, the knife aimed for his chest. Viktor instinctively grabbed a heavy book from the small table beside him, blocking the strike, the knife's blade skidding over the cover. He shoved the book at her, forcing her back a step.
"Agata, stop!" Viktor shouted, trying to reach her through the haze of her fury. "Emerson get out of here."
Agata seemed determined and beyond reason. Viktor wondered how and when that had happened. Had she always been that way and he’d just somehow missed it? Then he had no time to ponder anything. His sole focus became keeping Emerson safe.
With a snarl, Agata swung the knife again, and Viktor sidestepped, the blade slicing through the air inches from his face. He used her unbalanced maneuver against her, using her inertia to push her shoulder, shoving her to the side and making her stumble.
Agata recovered quickly, her eyes wild. She lunged again, and this time Viktor managed to catch her wrist, struggling to disarm her. They grappled, the knife dangerously close to Viktor's throat. Agata was not only surprisingly strong but nimble. With a surge of strength, Viktor twisted her arm, and the knife clattered to the floor.
Agata screamed in rage and pain, using her free hand to claw at Viktor's face. He jerked his head back as her nails raked his cheek, but he didn't let go. He shoved her back, and they both fell to the ground, knocking over a large standing urn which went crashing to the floor, breaking into large pieces on impact.
Both scrambled for the knife, Viktor reaching it first. He managed to fling it across the room, out of reach. Agata's eyes flashed with desperation as she dove at him again, fists flying. Viktor managed to shove her hard enough that she slammed into the bookcase and slid to the floor.
"Agata, it's over!" Viktor shouted, his breath becoming labored. "Stop!"
Agata struggled beneath him, her strength waning. Tears streamed down her face, her rage giving way to despair. "You ruined everything," she sobbed. "You were to be our great hope. Your wealth… and the eggs. Gone. It’s all gone."
The dimly lit room felt like a pressure cooker, every second stretching into what seemed like an eternity. Viktor rolled from her so that there was space between them. Even the thought of touching her was repugnant to him. She lay still for a moment until a subtle movement by Emerson caught Agata's sharp gaze. Desperation flickered in her eyes, and she made a frantic lunge for the knife on the table, her breath ragged with urgency.
In one swift motion, Agata seized the knife and sprang toward Emerson. Before Emerson could react, Agata yanked her back, the cold blade pressed against her throat. Emerson's eyes widened in shock, her body stiffening against Agata's iron grip.
CHAPTER 20
