The Blood Code Read Online Free Page B

I can’t help you right now, but my friend there can. Tell him what you know. Don’t be afraid.”
    Anya bit her lower lip, eyes scanning Ryan’s for duplicity. Her voice came out strong but strained, as if she were at war with herself and pissed as hell at Conrad, and trying not to show it. “What we talked about, it’s bigger than I expected. Ivanov…” She stopped herself, drew a steadying breath. “I brought proof that I’ve been inside his quarters, but he has my grandmother. I tell the wrong person what I know, and she dies.”
    She started to say something else, but Ryan drew the phone away and held a finger to her lips to shush her.
    Was that true?
    Even though no one should have been listening to the conversation, he wasn’t taking chances. Anya had stolen a Russian nuclear missile launch key, and assuming it was to a working ICBM, she was probably being hunted all over Russia at that point. Didn’t matter that Russia had gone high-tech years ago, or that, like the US, they’d upgraded all their weapons to computerized systems. Or the fact, also like the US, they claimed to have reduced their stockpiles extensively and were not pursuing the new “bunker-busting nukes” as rumored by various sources.
    Yeah, right.
    The current president was over-the-top paranoid about security and boasted he owned the largest and most expensive weapon museum “arsenal” in the world. At this point, a speeding ticket was the least of Anya’s worries.
    Or his. “Solomon, do I have your permission to extract the information from the package?”
    No hesitation on Conrad’s end. They’d played this game many times before. “Absolutely. Whatever information the package contains should be given to you.”
    Ryan raised a brow to see if Anya understood. Her face was inscrutable, but her body language wasn’t. Pissed was putting it mildly.
    “I have information that can bring down the president.” Her voice was loud. Too loud. A sheen of tears brightened her eyes and she took another fortifying breath, drawing it, Ryan was sure, all the way from her toes. The tears disappeared and her lips firmed. “If the US won’t help me destroy Ivanov, and find my grandmother” —her gaze shifted from Ryan to Truman— “then I’ll find another country that will.”
    Wait. What? Ryan jerked the phone back and pressed the speaker against his chest, doing a little mental cursing, and then something clicked in his brain.
    He looked at Anya again, gripping the phone hard and using every ounce of control he had to keep from launching it at the far wall.
    Conrad had recruited a Russian princess who’d been hiding in America. Russian spy or American asset, it didn’t matter. What he’d gotten was a bombshell of an international incident.

Chapter Four
    Even though Ryan’s face was unreadable, his eyes were hard as steel. A chill ran over Anya’s skin that had nothing to do with the cold room.
    Tough. She straightened her already straight back and returned his glare.
    Still holding the phone, he walked to the door and reached for the knob, every muscle taught with anger. Truman moved out of his way and Anya jumped from the bed, yanking the blanket with her. “Ryan, wait.”
    She expected him to slam the door behind him. Instead he closed it with a soft, deliberate click.
    Hope drained out of her. She was trying to do the right thing, and yet it seemed the harder she tried, the worse she screwed up. How was she going to get Grams away from Ivanov, the bastard , now?
    A prickly awareness made goose flesh rise on her skin. Across the room, Truman watched her, examining and appraising her blanket-wrapped body from head to foot. Not ogling, just interested, as if he were examining a new sports car.
    On the other side of the door, Ryan raised his voice at Solomon. He was still on the phone, and even though she couldn’t make out everything he was saying, it was obvious he was upset.
    Damn it. She didn’t want to care that he was