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The unnamed Cuban had apparently assured D.U. that plenty of emergency medical supplies were in place on the island.Riiight. Alex smelled a whole bunch of meatball medicine under horrendous conditions forthcoming.

Katie woke up as they made their final descent into Miami International Airport, and he missed the weight of her head on his shoulder. Sheesh. When had he become so sentimental?

The airport was as huge and chaotic as he remembered…and even more crowded than the last time he’d been here. He purelyhated crowds. Too easy for a hostile to hide among the civilians and take him unawares.

He glanced over at Katie, who smiled excitedly at him, and he just shook his Her mile-wide adventurous streak had gotten her in trouble before, and he had no doubt it would do so again.

They collected their bags and found a shuttle to take them to their hotel. He had to give D.U. credit for springing for upscale lodgings. Most of the time, D.U. staffers lived in miserable field conditions—crude tents with no running water or electricity—among the refugees and destitute whose injuries and diseases they treated. It was demanding work under the best of circumstances. He had faith Cuba would be closer to a worst-case situation in the aftermath of a major hurricane.

Speaking of which, the sky overhead looked ominous. By the time they reached the hotel, fat drops of rain were starting to fall and the wind was picking up. Miami was forecast to get hit by the storm’s peripheral rain bands, but the hurricane was expected to track south of Florida and head for the Yucatan peninsula.

He and Katie checked into their room with no trouble. He was amused that André had booked them one room with a king-sized bed. Keeping the watcher and the watched close, much?

“How bad is the weather supposed to get, here?” Katie asked as rain pounded at the big windows.

He flipped on the TV to check the latest updates. The weather channels were still showing a direct hit on Cuba. Giselle, a small, but strong, category four storm was still intensifying toward category five, and expected to run, literally, the length of the island.

He called into the bathroom where Katie was unpacking her girl goop, “Lots of rain and gusty winds here in Miami, but nothing severe. Cuba, however, is going to get clobbered.”

“Where will D.U. send us?” she called back.

“East end of the island where the need for our services will be highest. The mountains down the spine of the island should weaken the storm, and the west end of Cuba won’t get hit nearly as hard.”

“Have you ever been to Cuba?” she asked curiously as she stepped out into the hotel room.

“Not on our list of approved conversation topics,” he replied shortly.

“We still have one of those?” she asked in dismay.

“You thought having sex with me entitled you to all of my secrets?”

“Well…yes.” She looked crestfallen.

He grinned and shook his head. “You’re such a newbie to the world of spooks.”

“If you won’t tell me anything, then can we at least have sex?” she asked hopefully.

His grin widened. He started toward her, but his phone rang, and he swore under his breath.

“Alex Peters,” he snapped.

“Am I disturbing you?”

His father’s unwelcome voice startled him, and he replied tersely, “What do you want?”

“I hear you’re taking a little trip. Is there anything I can do for you while you’re there? I have a few contacts who might prove useful.”

Alex’s jaw dropped. How in thehelldid Roman know about their secret trip to Cuba? Obviously not so secret a trip, dammit. Who else knew about their supposedly secret infiltration onto the island?

He glanced over at Katie in alarm. She was heading into the line of fire with him. On the one hand, he was glad to have her close by where he could personally ensure her safety. But onthe other hand, he’d promised her she would never be in life threatening danger again if he could help it.

Yeah, he did bet his Russian spy father had plenty of contacts in flipping Cuba.

Why did Roman feel obliged to let his son know he was aware of this little junket? What was his father’s play? Was he worried about Alex’s safety and warning him that this mission was on the Russians’ radar? Or was Roman putting him on notice that his every move was being watched? Or was it merely part of their long-standing pissing contest over whose intelligence sources were better—the FSB’s or CIA’s?

It was always like this with his father: circles within circles. Layer upon layer of hidden meaning. Sometimes, he got so damned tired of it all. Maybe that was why Katie’s directness appealed to him so strongly.

How to answer Roman? His father had asked if there was anything he could do to help.