Page 16 of Vienna Bliss

“Mr. Wagner, I’d like to explain on behalf of Interpol, what’s going on here. There are some details I won’t be able to share, but it is our hope that you will come to understand how we came to be in this situation.” Rolf’s words were both firm and conciliatory. Quite a feat.

Alena sat back in her chair. “I already told him everything.”

“You have no authority—”

“One more time, you’re not my boss.”

Rolf’s jaw clenched.

It probably wasn’t smart to pick a fight with the Interpol agent right now, but Alena was the walking wounded. Alexander had ripped her heart out down by the lake. She treated that particular wound with several glasses of white wine, which she’d also used to wash down enough Tylenol that she was able to sit at the dining room table several chairs down from Alexander and across from Rolf without wincing.

Alexander, her quiet man who was not hers, had yet to speak.

Rolf’s voice deepened a bit. “Watch your tongue.”

For a moment her breath caught. That was pure Dom tone and word choice.

That asshole. He was trying to top her to shut her up and make her fall in line.

Clearly he’d noticed that the collar was gone.

She thrown it, the lock, and the key into the lake.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alexander straighten in his seat. He’d heard it too.

Tell him to back off. Tell him that he can’t talk to me like that because I’m yours.

After a moment of tense silence, Alexander cleared his throat but relaxed back into his chair. “Thank you, Agent Pendersen. I would like to hear what you have to say.”

Under the table, Alena balled her hand into a fist, digging her nails into her palm.

Rolf stared down at her for another moment, then turned his attention to Alexander. Alena wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and that she wasn’t staying quiet because he told her to watch her tone. She chose to stay quiet because she was afraid that if she tried to say anything, her broken heart might cause her voice to waver.

Rolf’s accounting of what had happened contained a lot of “we received information that” and “according to our sources.” Every time he used one of those phrases when referring to something where she had given him the information or was the source, Alena took another sip of wine. Interpol meetings made great drinking games.

In the end Rolf didn’t say anything that she hadn’t already told Alexander. The facts remained the same.

Absolon was probably moving stolen goods and giving them to people who were selling them to fund terrorism.

Interpol needed to know how big the operation was and hadn’t wanted to risk Wagner Global locking down and proverbially circling the wagons.

Alena had been brought on as a consultant on the case—because she was the reason they actually had an active case instead of just a file full of useless paper. Rolf didn’t put it like that.

He ended the briefing by saying that Alena had made the decision regarding how to approach him without clearance from Interpol.

“I’m going to call bullshit on that,” Alena declared, pointing the finger at Rolf.

“We would never have authorized—”

“You’re really going to claim you didn’t know? I described to the tech people the layout of his house and asked what I would need to do in order to get the information off the servers. They’re the ones who made the HPA. Fuck, they even disguised it as an eye shadow palette. And gave me the James Bond hairdryer.”

Rolf frowned, then flipped open the manila folder he had on the table.

“Oh, you didn’t know…” Alena laughed lightly.

“I warned you to—” Rolf said.

“Stop.” Alexander’s voice cut like a knife.