There was a fine line between interview, interrogation, and intimidation. The two feebs on the other side of the two-way mirror probably had just as blurred a view of the subtleties as he did. And given what was at stake, he was in no mood to mince his words. So he got the reading of Miranda rights out of the way.
"You're going to prison, and probably at the end of the sentence, you are going back to Russia," he said before Mitkin had even had a chance to sit down. "The only thing that will affect your sentence is what you say next."
Six pulled the chair out, turned it around. "So, what's it going to be?"
* * *
Once the sun had gone down, Louisa had realized there were too many windows without curtains in Six's house. Every room had at least two, and suddenly she felt exposed.
Perhaps it was because of the time she'd spent giving her official statement, but she suddenly felt very alone.
She shouldn't, of course, because Six had left her covered by two of Eagle Securities' guys who he knew and trusted. She knew she should take his word for it that they were as good as he was, but from her spot on the bed, she pulled the drawer open and checked for the thousandth time that the gun was still there. Earlier, she'd even taken it out and held it in her hand. It was cool to the touch and smoother than she'd imagined it being. Her hand had been shaking as she'd placed a finger on the trigger, but thoughts of pulling it had her quickly placing it back in the drawer and slamming it shut.
Even now, even with everything that was going on in her life, she still couldn't imagine a scenario when she might actually need a weapon enough to fire it.
Meanwhile, though, Six was out hunting the men who'd attempted to hurt her, and the idea of him doing that unarmed was unthinkable.
Louisa picked up her laptop and scrolled through the agenda of a neurology conference at which she'd been asked to speak the following January. In the past, she'd tended to defer these talks to others because she hated presenting … and people-two elements that were usually a given at large conferences. But she was beginning to think it was possible to push all that to one side and do it anyway for the good of what she was trying to do. She wondered how many potential donors, or, candidly, how much more research, she might have been able to achieve had she spoken more.
How much further might her reach have extended?
Perhaps the organizers could work with her to keep the impact and volume of interactions to a minimum.
She looked at the clock in the corner of the screen to find that only ten minutes had passed since she'd last looked. Where was Six? Her heart raced a little, and she wondered how military spouses coped when loved ones went on deployment, facing threats on a daily basis. Louisa could only imagine how hard it was to bury the fear and anxiety to get on with life. Saying good-bye to Six for the afternoon had been hard enough, even though she'd been as angry as she was aroused. Jealousy squeezed her lungs as she wondered whether there had been a time when Six had had to leave a girlfriend behind before.
The shift in him earlier had been instantaneous. One moment, he'd been about to devour her on the porch; the next, he'd chastely kissed her on the cheek, albeit with a look of longing and a very stiff erection, and had handed her her clothes before disappearing inside. She'd waited for him to come out before asking him what was going on, and her frustration had bubbled over into anger when he'd explained little more than that they'd had a lead. Finally, he'd given in and told her that the lead was the person they suspected of paying Kovalenko to abduct her, but then he'd kissed her on her forehead and headed for the door, telling her that Bailey and Ryder would be outside.
The ring tone on her phone startled her, and she quickly grabbed it off the nightstand. "Hello," she said.
"Ah, Louisa." One of Vasilii's quirks was the way he drew her name out across the three long syllables. Looo-eeee-zaaa. Blood pumped through her heart so quickly that she could hear the rushing in her ears.
Should she play it cool? Or should she just come clean and tell Vasilii that she knew what Ivan was up to and that she had nothing left to say to him? No, she'd keep quiet, her shyness having inadvertently taught her that people often said more than they meant to when the other party stayed silent.
"Vasilii. What can I do for you?" she asked.
"I am calling to apologize. I'm sorry I didn't handle the break-in at the lab … differently." He sounded uncertain. Which was strange, because if there was one thing that Vasilii wasn't, it was uncertain.