you, Herr Reiter. You are very kind.” She turned to her companion and motioned him forward. “Come, Hermann, say hello to Katarina’s friend.”
As expected of all loyal Germans, Jack stepped back and gave the required Third Reich salute. “Heil Hitler, Kapitän zur See.”
The Nazi returned the gesture with quiet relish. “Heil Hitler.”
On the surface, Hermann Schmidt looked like a typical naval officer, but there was something in his arrogant stance that turned Jack’s blood to ice—an unyielding ruthlessness that he’d seen in too many high-ranking Nazis.
It was the same look that now stared back at him from the mirror every morning.
Was Jack becoming one of them?
Was he losing the last shreds of his humanity?
With each new mission, he played roulette with his soul. He could no longer expect God to hear his prayers or his pleas. Not after the horrors he’d committed in the name of war.
There could be no turning back, no chance of forgiveness. He had to start thinking like the man he was: a man with no future, no hope and a single goal—to hunt and destroy the enemy that had stolen his life from him.
Patience, Jack told himself. In spite of the urgency of his current mission, in spite of the tight deadline, time was his ally. He’d worked too hard building his cover to let an unexpected player in the game throw him off balance now.
Cutting through his thoughts, Elena Kerensky cleared her throat. “Herr Reiter, I don’t believe we’ve met before. Have you known my Katia long?”
Jack noted the concern in the woman’s eyes and decided to use it to ferret out how far Kerensky was willing to go to help the British. “I’ve known Katarina—” he rolled her name off his tongue in a slow caress “—long enough to come to the conclusion that she is a remarkable woman whom I wish to know better.”
Hitting her cue perfectly, Kerensky slid her arm through his and smiled up at him with unmistakable affection. “What a lovely thing to say, darling.”
With surprisingly little effort, he returned her smile as though they’d already become lovers.
Her gaze filled with female vulnerability, and she snuggled closer to him.
He ran a fingertip along her cheek.
There was a time when the God-fearing man Jack had once been would have been appalled by their blatant sexual undertones. But that was before Jack had walked with the enemy, before he’d become an embittered U.S. sailor infiltrating the SS.
Much like this famous actress, he played whatever role was necessary to accomplish his mission. And yet…
As he stared into Kerensky’s beautiful green eyes, Jack couldn’t stop himself from wishing they’d met at another time, and under different circumstances. He wondered if her performance was a remarkable display of acting ability, or something else. Something inherently truthful? Or something coldly sinister?
In that instant, the words of his father came to him.
Always remember, Jack, a woman has more power to destroy a man than any other weapon.
Jack’s pulse soared through his veins. Was Kerensky playing both sides? Had the Germans found out about his deception? Were they using this accomplished actress to bring him down at last?
Subterfuge. Hidden agendas. Jack no longer knew where the intrigue ended and reality began. Even in his own mind he could no longer discern how much of Jack Anderson lived inside him, and how much had become Friedrich Reiter, the deadly SS henchman. Every new mission blurred the line between the two, threatening Jack’s soul bit by bit.
A smart military man always knew when to hold his ground, and when to retreat. For now, his work was done.
Tapping into the ruthless man the Nazis had created, the one who coldly witnessed brutalities without flinching, Jack extracted himself from Kerensky’s grip. Ignoring the sense of loss that took hold of him, he turned to her mother then nodded at Hermann Schmidt. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.”
Keeping his eyes on Kerensky’s face, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “I look forward to our next meeting, my darling.”
She made a soft sound of distress, but they both knew she wouldn’t voice an argument in front of her mother and the Nazi officer. It was a small victory, to be sure, but a victory that put Jack firmly in control of the mission.
He couldn’t have planned a more perfect finale to their first meeting.
Katia stared in muted astonishment as the British spy turned on his heel and headed toward the exit with ground-eating strides.
What now?
A wave of nausea hit, and for the first time all evening her smile threatened to waver. She stood perfectly still until the moment passed.
The man had gunmetal nerve, she’d give him that. Not only had he antagonized a high-ranking Nazi and her own mother with his boldness, he’d left Katia to deal with the messy consequences. Yet, even with frustration burning at the back of her throat, something about the British operative left her wanting…what?
What was it about the man that urged her to let down her guard, if only for a fraction of a second? For a moment tonight, with their arms twined together and their gazes bound in intimate familiarity, she’d forgotten all about playing a role. She’d merely been a woman enthralled with an intriguing man.
From the first moment their gazes had locked and held, she’d sensed her British contact was someone who knew what it meant to be an outsider. Just like her.
Was he a man she could trust?
A lethal thought.
Blind faith, she reminded herself, was nothing more than weakness, a trap that ultimately led to a one-way invitation to the concentration camps.
Another sick spasm clutched in her stomach, but she held her expression free of emotion. If the operative said he looked forward to their next meeting, then she had to believe there would indeed be a next meeting.
All was not lost.
For the moment, she simply needed to concentrate on placating a stunned parent and her suspicious escort.
Sliding a quick glance toward her mother, Katia cut off a sigh of frustration. Elena stood tall, her full attention focused on the British spy as he left through the back door.
“I don’t trust that man,” she muttered, regarding the exit with suspicious eyes. “Tell me again how you know Herr Reiter?”
Rule number one in espionage was to keep as close to the truth as possible. “He is a dear friend, one I see whenever he comes to Hamburg on business.”
Hermann Schmidt made a noise deep in his throat that sounded like a growl. “What, precisely, is his business?”
The uncharacteristic display of interest in her affairs chilled Katia down to the bone. This grim-faced Nazi was not a person with whom her mother should be spending her time. He was a formidable enemy, one who could ruin Elena if he uncovered her secret.
On full alert, Katia played her role cautiously. The key was to keep it simple. Consistent.
“I’m sure he told me once.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “I seem to remember him saying he owned a company that supplies the Third Reich with materials for the war.”
Schmidt’s features turned hard and inflexible, matching the severity of his tightly buttoned uniform and crisp white shirt underneath. “What sort of materials, exactly?”
Katia blinked at his impatience, the cold heat of the dangerous emotion flashing in his eyes. Fortunately, to Hermann Schmidt, beautiful equaled stupid.
The knowledge gave Katia a surge of courage, and a strong conviction to