Lying and Kissing by Helena Newbury Read Free Book Online Page B

accepted. Here, I was tolerated.
    Maybe it was the jet lag but, when I climbed into a cab and heard Russian pop music on the radio, I almost wanted to weep. I just longed for something familiar.
    Pull yourself together! You wanted this! I asked the driver to take me to my hotel and we set off.
    I couldn’t wear an earpiece because, if things went well—my heart missed a beat—Luka would be getting close enough that he’d spot it. I could call Adam on the brand-new cell phone they’d given me, but even then the presumption was that the authorities might be intercepting foreigners’ calls. I’d have to pretend Adam was my dad.
    I’d never, in my whole life, felt so alone. There was a big part of me that wanted to tell the driver to turn around and take me back to the airport, then get the next plane home and quit the CIA. Get a normal job where I didn’t have to lie to everyone I met.
    But then I’d never see him again.
     
    ***
     
    My reunion with Luka was meant to be accidental, so it had to be thoroughly planned.
    We knew he had a thing for ice hockey—one of his few indulgences beyond women. He’d played, when he was in his teens, and in the winter he still liked to smack a puck around each weekend at Gorky Park.
    Gorky Park is the Russian equivalent of Central Park. In the summer, it’s full of joggers and couples pushing baby strollers. But each winter, all of the paths are deliberately iced over to create Europe’s biggest ice rink. You can skate around the entire park on the paths, or there’s a separate area for dancing and another for ice hockey.
    Our agents in Moscow had reported that Luka usually showed up early, before his friends, and hung around near the ice hockey rink, watching the skaters. The idea was that I’d be skating and he’d see me and approach. I’d tell him how I was on vacation, starting off in Moscow before maybe taking in Rome, Paris and Venice. The team at Langley had carefully set me up with an itinerary that would give him a sense of urgency— I’m only in Moscow for a few days— while also leaving the door open for something to happen— but my tickets are flexible…
    It was brilliant and ridiculous. Would he believe it was just a coincidence? My heart started thumping. Would he want to believe enough that he’d buy it?
    And there was another problem: I can’t ice skate. I mean, I might be able to stumble around with some friends, all holding hands, and the falling over would be part of the fun. But who goes to an ice rink on vacation on their own when they can’t skate? I was going to look like the world’s most stubborn woman. I bet Elena and Natalia and Svetlana could skate. During my briefing, I’d seen some long-lens photos of Luka with his last few girlfriends, finally putting faces to the voices I’d listened to for months. All of the women had been just as gorgeous and slender and blonde as I’d feared. Why the hell is he interested in me?!
    I knew that, somewhere in the crowd, a local CIA agent would be keeping an eye on me and reporting back to Adam. But they wouldn’t intervene unless things looked like they were going drastically wrong. I was basically on my own.
    I went down on my ass for the fiftieth time. My hired skates were too tight, my jeans were soaked through, and my fingers were numb, even in gloves. I had no idea if Luka was watching me, or if he was even there. What if he doesn’t recognize me? I had a woolen hat pulled tight over my ears and was cocooned in a thick coat. It was a long way from a dress and heels.
    I stumbled towards a bench and clutched at it for support, panting. What if he doesn’t show up at all?
    I decided to give it one more try. I pushed off from the side, dodged a family who were all skating together and nearly collided with a young couple. Veering away from them sent me into a skittering mess, my arms circling desperately as I fought for balance, and then I went down—
    Strong hands caught me under my armpits,