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He listened intently as she described her two meetings with Charlie, the one before Cuba and the one this morning. Alex’s first impulse was to be suspicious of the information. Why would the CIA cough it up to her, when they’d refused for all this time to tell him anything?

This was probably part of the grand manipulation of Alex Peters the CIA seemed to delight in playing at.

Or maybe Uncle Charlie genuinely wanted to please his niece.

It was possible, of course, that the information was caught up in some sort of internal power struggle within the agency.

The CIA made a habit of hiring wolves, who in turn, made a habit of fighting over turf.

Was his mother just another bone being snarled and scrapped over within the wolf pack? Or was he the bone?

Questions swirled inside his head so thick and fast he hardly knew where to turn his attention.

He felt out of control. Buffeted by hurricane-force confusion.

Why were they doing this to him? Or was this about him at all?

God, and he’d thought his CIA field training had been a giant mind-fuck.

This was a thousand times worse. Who was he supposed to trust? What was he supposed to think? To feel?

More agitated than he could ever remember being, he pulled out his laptop and initiated a deep Web search for information on one Claudia Kane.

As he’d expected, there was nothing. As in nothing .

Which was, in its own way, informative. In this day and age, nobody left absolutely zero trail of their existence.

Not unless that trail had been professionally swept clean. Interesting.

If Katie’s information was correct and his mother had been an American intelligence operative, the non-trail would make sense. Hell, Claudia Kane probably wasn’t even her real name. He would have to dig into the CIA’s computers if he wanted more. Or, of course, he could always ask Roman…

His train of thought derailed. Actually, that wasn’t a half-bad idea.

His father had never spoken of his mother beyond the occasional epithet calling her a whore or a traitor.

But then, Alex had never asked about her, either.

It had always been understood between him and Roman that she was an off-limits topic of conversation.

Thoughtfully, he activated one of the burner phones in his pack and dialed his father’s personal cell phone number.

“Son. To what do I owe this pleasure?” The connection was scratchy, but he could make out his father’s voice, speaking in English. He replied in Russian. They were both cautious of wagging ears around them, apparently.

“Tell me about my mother.”

There was a long pause filled only with quiet static. Then, “Why?”

“Because I’m asking.”

Roman’s voice was heavy. “What do you want to know?”

“Was her name Claudia Kane?”

He thought he heard his father inhale sharply, but it was hard to tell over the poor connection. His father’s answer was wooden. “That was a name connected to her, yes.”

“Was she an American operative? A sparrow?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Did she target you, specifically?”

“I have always believed so, but I have no proof.”

“If you have no proof, does that mean she never attempted to blackmail you or turn you?”

“Not as far as I know,” Roman answered. Okay, his father sounded as if that answer was true. He never could be one-hundred-percent certain with Roman, but his father’s firm tone was as close to sounding like he was telling the truth as his old man ever got.

Alex asked reluctantly, “Did you have feelings for her, or was it a…business transaction?”

“I loved her. Never doubt that, Alexei.”

“What about her?” Alex asked heavily. “Did she have feelings for you? Or were you just a job?”

“You would have to ask her.”

“She’s still alive, then?”

“As far as I know.”

“C’mon, father. That’s the sort of thing you’d use your position to be certain of. I deserve to know the truth.” When Roman did not reply, he added reluctantly, “My life may depend on knowing the truth.”

“What’s this?” his father burst out.

“Is she alive or not?”

“You’ll tell me what’s going on?” Roman challenged.

Alex closed his eyes tightly. That was all the answer he needed.

His mother was still alive. And a casual inquiry about her from Katie appeared to have elicited two sniper attacks.

Not only was Claudia Kane still alive, she was still an active operative.

And apparently, she or her superiors didn’t appreciate somebody poking around into her existence.

“Do you know her real name?” Alex asked quietly.

“I do not know that she has a real name. She has moved from legend to legend over the years, and never retains any one identity for long.”

“Do you know where she is now? What she’s doing?”

“I am sorry. I do not. Last I heard, she was directing an operation called Cold something. Our source only captured the first word of the name.”

“Cold Intent?” Alex blurted. “I’d bet my life that’s it. Hell, I am betting my life on it.”

His mother was part of Cold Intent? He reeled in shock. What the hell was she up to?

Why would the woman who given birth to him be out to kill his girlfriend? Surely, Claudia wasn’t trying to keep other women from moving in on her son. The women his brothers had dated, and occasionally loved, over the years had never been shot at.

He highly doubted this woman felt the slightest inkling of maternal protectiveness toward him. Otherwise, she never would have abandoned him with his father all those years ago.

“What’s going on?” Roman asked urgently. “Tell me. I can help. You’re my son. If you’re in trouble, let me help you. I can get you out of Washington in a few hours. I’ll even bring out the girlfriend and the baby safely. You have my word on it.”

“Thanks. But we’re good for now. Anything you can find out about Claudia Kane or Operation Cold Intent would be helpful.”

“Consider it done.”

Alex sagged against the cheap headboard at his back. His old man might be an asshole, but maybe, just maybe, blood was thicker than water.

When his son was in trouble, could Roman be counted on to come through for him? Was he an idiot for involving his old man in this?

He knew without a shadow of a doubt that there would be strings attached to any help his father gave him, and those strings would get pulled on later. But Alex’s gut told that—for now—his father would do his best to help him figure out what Claudia was up to.

Roman was speaking again. “…about that other thing. I gather your abrupt exit from Cuba means you were able to bury anything…incriminating?”

Alex wasn’t willing to give up that bargaining chip just yet. He trusted his father a little, but not that much.

Huh. And here he was right back up on that tightrope, teetering between his father and the CIA. Again. And this time a third factor was pushing and pulling at him. His mother , of all people. She was the one chess piece he’d never seen being placed on the board.

How did he keep ending up caught in the middle like everyone’s favorite tug toy?

He shook his head to clear it. He faked making a few static noises into the receiver and disconnected the call. Jerkily, he turned the phone over, pulled the battery and sim card out, and flushed the pieces down the toilet individually.

“Well?” Katie demanded impatiently.

“Get some sleep. I need to think.”

She frowned unhappily, but disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the sounds of tooth brushing. She emerged wearing one of his t-shirts. Her legs were long and sleek, and the curves of her breasts soft and inviting under the cotton fabric.

“I’ve been honest with you, Alex, and now I need you to be honest with me.”

Aww, hell. She wanted to talk about feelings, again. It was a good interrogation tactic. Catch him when he was emotionally and mentally off balance. Drop a bombshell on him that his mother was alive and then move in for the kill when his defenses were down.

His warning antennae wiggled wildly. He muttered cautiously, “You need me to be honest about what?”

“Guantanamo. What happened to you there?”

He swore mentally. It figured that she would want to dredge up all that crap. It was where he’d gone off the carefully prepared script the CIA had laid out for the two of them. He answered, tersely, “I was drugged. You pulled me out. We each egressed the country.”

“What drug did that doctor give you?”

He frowned. Actually, that was a good question. Doctor Doe had called one of the medications CCRE. He’d forgotten about it until now.

Quickly, he powered up his laptop and typed in the four letters. It took a little searching but finally a Department of Defense paper came up on the screen. Concentrated Cannabis Resin Extract.

“What’s that?” Katie startled him by asking from over his shoulder. “Cannabis? They gave you pot ?”

He scanned the medical paper quickly. “CCRE is a highly concentrated and refined derivative of cannabis resin.”

“Why on earth would they want to get you really, really baked?”

He grinned in a flash of unwilling amusement. But his humor faded as he caught sight of the extract’s main symptom.

Ever perceptive, Katie asked quickly, “What is it?”

He leaned back, staring at the screen. “CCRE is designed to provoke paranoid schizophrenic episodes.”

“In English, please?”

“Put in lay terms, it’s a mind-altering substance that makes a person fearful and distrustful of others. Makes them think someone’s out to hurt or kill them.”

“But I thought they were questioning you. Wouldn’t they want you uninhibited and trusting so you’d tell them everything?”

“If that were the case, they would only have shot me up with scopolamine or some other truth serum-style drug.”

“Why did they treat you like a criminal and not me?” she asked. “You’re the government employee with a right to be there, after all. I’m the one they should have been really suspicious of. Was it because I’m a girl and you’re a big, strong, dangerous man?”