Chapter seven

She looked like a concentration camp survivor, Jack thought, especially now that her hair was gone. Her eyes seemed even bigger in her face, and a fading bruise on her cheekbone stood out on skin so pale it seemed almost translucent. Yet despite her appearance, despite the situation they were in, he could see traces of the woman he had loved.

Irina sat cross-legged on the bed, picking at the leftover chapatti from earlier. When she caught him watching her, she pushed the food aside and folded her hands in her lap.

"What?"

"You broke my heart."

She said nothing but he could see the tears she was fighting to keep from shedding. He moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. Not stopping to examine his motives, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She gasped softly, obviously surprised, but didn't move away.

He deepened the kiss, and it was suddenly so easy to forget that they'd been apart for seven months.

It didn't take him long to realize she wasn't responding. He pulled back and looked at her. She held herself completely rigid, her eyes were closed, and the tears she had tried to fight earlier were running down her cheeks.

He felt like an idiot. Her assignment was over; of course she didn't want him anymore. He was a fool. Worse, a weak fool. A few days in her presence and he wanted her again. Angry with himself, he stood and walked across to the other side of the room.

"Jack, I—"

"When are you going to ask about Sydney?" He couldn't look at her.

"Jack—"

"You broke her heart too." Pain made him bitter. He wanted to hurt her too. "It must have been so difficult for you pretending to be a good mother."

The lamp from the bedside table crashed into the wall, barely missing his head. He turned to see Irina kneeling on the bed, her face ashen.

"Thinking of Sydney was the only thing that kept me sane. Don't ever question my love for her again."

"You didn't love her enough to take her with you." He managed to sidestep the plate of food that came flying at him.

"I'm sure Sydney would have enjoyed Kashmir." She shook her head. "Don't be an idiot, Jack."

"Is she even mine?" He caught the pillow she threw, and lobbed it back at her. It hit the side of her head, knocking her off balance. She fell back onto the bed. Jack climbed on top of her, pinning her in place with his weight. "Is she?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

Jack leaned down until his mouth was level with her ear. His voice was low, his words clipped when he spoke again. "I know all about you, Derevko. They took great pleasure in telling me what you were up to during our marriage."

She squirmed, trying to break free, but he pushed down harder. "Those agents were my friends."

"I was following orders."

"Convenient."

"I did what I had to do to protect my family."

"Don't you dare make this about me and Sydney!"

There was a low guttural sound from her throat. "You think you're the only one who has suffered in all of this?"

"Don't even think about playing the victim, Irina. You chose this path." He laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "I bet you made your family proud."

She said nothing for a while, then, "Get off me. Please."

"You whored yourself out for ten years. What's once more, for old time's sake?"

She tensed beneath him, then relaxed, and he was surprised how easily she had surrendered.

Then she said, "Go ahead, Jack. Rape me. Show me what a man you are."

He recoiled as if she'd struck a physical blow. She closed her eyes, unable to look at him, and tried to keep her breathing calm. She tried counting to ten. When that didn't work she pictured Sydney's smiling face in front of her, but that only made things even worse. The tears she'd been fighting so hard spilled down her cheeks.

"Irina—"

"There's nothing I can do or say to make you understand." She was proud she didn't stumble over the words. "I'm sorry I fucked everything up, but – but I'd do it all over again, because of you, because of Sydney, because for a moment I was happy."

Jack's fingers brushed lightly over her bruised cheekbone. "Tell me why you were in prison."

"I already did."

"Treason." His tone betrayed his disbelief.

Irina felt the ghost of their child stir within her womb. Unconsciously, she covered her stomach with her hand as she thought of the children she'd refused to kill for her country. They'd allowed her to keep Sydney. Nadia – the name she'd chosen long before they discovered her pregnancy – had not been so lucky. Nadia, named for the grandmother who had died while Irina was in America. Nadia, her only remaining hope, dead, like the woman Irina had once been.

"Irina?"

She knew she could never tell Jack. This burden would be hers alone. So she chose another truth, a sliver of thought never given voice until now. "They suspected that I had considered defecting."

"Had you?"

"Sometimes I thought about what would happen if I did. It doesn't matter now."

Jack climbed off her and lay down next to her. She looked at him, curious. "I can't just forget what you did."

"I know," she whispered.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "But I can't just stop loving you either."

"Don't say what you don't mean, Jack."

"I've thought about you every day since you left."

"Tell me about Sydney." It hurt to say her name aloud, but Irina needed to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"She's getting so tall. She's . . . I don't know. They kept me away from her for six months. She's sad. She misses you."

"And her play? Thanksgiving – did she get in?"

Jack's smile was forced. "I was told she was a turkey."

"A turkey?"

In a move that surprised both of them, Jack pulled Irina closer and held her against his chest. "I don't know what to do," he confessed.

"You're a good father, Jack. Sydney loves you. You love her. That's all that matters, really."

"I meant, I don't know what to do about you."

Irina could feel his heartbeat beneath the palm of her hand. There were countless nights they'd lain like this, talking until the early hours of the morning. She pushed the memory aside. "Well, I'll be in prison again, won't I?"

"It's not the same as that facility in Kashmir."

"Don't think that the Soviets are monsters, Jack. They don't torture all their prisoners."

His hold tightened slightly. "So why you?"

"To make an example of me. My mission failed. They wanted to punish me." She took a deep, steadying breath, this time relying on the steady feel of Jack's heartbeat to keep control. "Cuvee was always jealous of my love for you. He wanted to break me."

"Cuvee. That's the second time I've heard that name. Who is he?"

"My superior at the KGB." She couldn't hide the tremor in her voice. Some part of her mind cautioned her against going further.

"What did he—"

"Don't ask, Jack. Please." She remembered a time when she had enjoyed Cuvee's attention, a time before she realized there was more to life than patriotism and ideals. When she'd entered Jack's bed, she'd stopped letting Cuvee into hers. In Kashmir, it seemed as if he wanted to make up for all the lost time.

No, she thought, don't go there. It's over. Don't go there.

"Irina, you're shaking."

She willed herself to concentrate on the feel of Jack's arms around her, the smell of skin, the sound of his heartbeat; willed herself to focus on the taste of kiss his, the memory of his words, "I can't just stop loving you."

It wasn't enough.