Blood.

Gray sweater.

Conner!

Hannah sat up straight in bed, sweating, panting.

Dear God.

Just a nightmare. No, more than that. It had been a reliving of that night in every detail.

Pain.

She got out of bed and went into the bathroom and drank a glass of water.

Conner.

Why was the shock and pain hitting her like this tonight? She'd managed to keep it at bay after the first few nights.

Because tomorrow she might be facing his murderer.

And she might be killing a man.

Don't think about it. What had to be done would be done.

But she couldn't go back to bed yet and risk another nightmare.

She pulled on her jeans and a shirt and headed for the door. She'd walk on the beach and try to exhaust herself enough to sleep without dreams.

The moon was bright and the surf was gentle.

Conner had never liked a quiet surf. He'd always been excited by crashing waves.

Walk fast.

Try not to think.

"Hannah."

Kirov. She stopped and turned to watch him coming toward her. "I don't want company, Kirov."

He studied her expression. "I can see that. You're getting it anyway."

She turned and walked away. "How did you get here?"

"I was coming back to my room, and I saw you leave."

"It's the middle of the night. What were you doing?"

"Maybe I was taking a midnight stroll too." He paused. "Nerves?"

She nodded jerkily. "I'll be okay."

"I know you will." He walked beside her in silence for a few moments. "You can change your mind."

"I'm not changing my mind." She walked faster. "I had a dream about Conner tonight. It was just like that night and he was-There's no way I could back out."

"I guess not. Just thought I'd offer."

She glanced at him. "Do you have nightmares, Kirov? I'd think you would."

"Because of the men I've killed?" He shook his head. "Only about the Pavski killed. I used to dream every night about my crewmen dying on the sub, wondering where I was, and reaching their hands out to me and begging me to die with them."

She shuddered. "Horrible."

"It was probably born of guilt. A captain is responsible for his crew and his ship. He should be with them to the end."

"You couldn't be there."

"My mind knows that. My emotions aren't at all reasonable. I've been trained to duty since childhood." He stopped. "Could we sit down? I'm tired of running a marathon. Tomorrow may be a taxing day."

"I told you not to come-" She shrugged and sat down on the sand. She linked her arms around her knees and stared out at the surf. "Do you think he'll come?"

He dropped down beside her. "Pavski? I don't know. There's a fair chance. It's worth a shot."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Maybe try to snag the man who delivers the cash. We'll play it by ear."

"Just like that? I don't believe this is something I want to be extemporaneous about."

"Then walk away."

"Stop saying that." Her hands clenched into fists. "If he doesn't come to us, we have to go after the cradle. That will draw him to us."

"No doubt. It's his beacon in the night."

"Then let's light it and lead him to hell. Tell me what I have to know to find it."

"If I knew that, I'd have found it already."

"You were interested in that mythology book."

"Because it wasn't mine. That means it could be Heiser's. Anything to do with Heiser is crucial."

"You said that the only clue could be the conversation between Heiser and his father."

"And that the area Heiser mentioned visiting with his father as a child was searched by everyone. Pavski, included."

"What about you?"

He nodded. "Me, too. Nothing."

"Maybe you missed something in the conversation with his father."

He shook his head. "I have the transcript if you'd like to read it."

"What about Heiser's father? Surely you talked to him?"

"No, I was on the run. It was nine months before I could get to Moscow to see him. By that time he was dead."

"How?"

He shrugged. "Pavski or the GRU. He was shot in a train station near his town. He was probably trying to run away. The poor bastard was no match for them. He was a professor of literature, for God's sake. But evidently he was killed before he was forced to tell what he knew, or Pavski would have the cradle."

Another death to be laid at the door of the cradle, she thought bitterly. "What about the contents of that package that Petrenko gave Pavski?"

"I haven't heard from Eugenia yet on it. She hasn't had much time since she got to Moscow. She'll get there."

"It's like chasing a will-o'-the-wisp," she said in frustration. "We don't know anything."

"And that's why we're not counting on finding it. Much better to go after Pavski directly."

She nodded. "I guess so. It's just that I want to be sure."

"And you like to be in control, and there's nothing certain about anything we're doing."

She nodded ruefully. "You probably feel the same way."

"But I've had to develop patience over the years. This meeting tomorrow is as close as I've come to getting him. So I'm not nearly as discouraged as you are. One step at a time, Hannah."

But every step was like walking on barbed wire. "I could use a few giant steps."

"I know." His hand reached out to cover her own. "I wish I could give them to you."

She looked down at his big hand enveloping hers. Her hand was not small, and more capable than attractive, yet it seemed fragile and very womanly in his grasp. She felt womanly. Her palm was suddenly ultrasensitive, and she could feel a tingling moving up her wrist and arm.

Jesus. Her chest was suddenly tight, and her breathing was becoming rapid, shallow. The pulse was pounding erratically in the hollow of her throat. What an idiotic response. For God's sake, he was just holding her hand.

She jerked her hand away. She tried to remember what he had been saying. "You're doing the best you can." She got to her feet. "It's just that I'm not at all patient." She started back toward the hotel. "I'm going to go back to the hotel and try to get to sleep. Coming?"

"No." He stayed where he sat on the sand. "I'll watch until you get safely back in your room from here. Lock your door."

"I always do."

She glanced back at him when she reached the hotel. His body language was relaxed and yet she was still aware of the alertness and strength that characterized his every movement.

Sometimes there's a stillness about him that's very erotic.

Eugenia again. Dammit, she didn't need to remember Eugenia's words about the explosiveness that lay beneath that deceptive stillness. She was entirely too aware of everything about Kirov.

He made a shooing motion as if to whisk her into her hotel room.

Bossy bastard.

She deliberately slowed her pace until she reached her door. Then she turned and gave him the finger.

Kirov chuckled with amusement as he watched the door close behind Hannah.

That last irreverent gesture was just what he would have expected from Hannah, and she never disappointed. In spite of her frustration and nervousness about tomorrow she still remained strong and intelligent and driven. What an amazing woman.

His smile faded as his gaze shifted back to the surf. He needed this time alone with the sea. It always brought him peace and clarity of mind. From the time he was a boy, he had come to the sea with his sorrows and his triumphs. The sea had tempered his arrogance and given him a sense of his own mortality. And, yet, it had created a web of power and challenge that could never be matched by any other experience. The sea had become his servant and his master, his lover and his enemy.

And being captain of the Silent Thunder had made him feel like a god from Olympus. Surrounded by power and able to loose lightning bolts.