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“Backup?”
He nodded. “As soon as I give the signal, my team will draw fire.”
He murmured a single word into a hidden mic, and the gunfire intensified overhead. Gun cocked, Alexei went ahead of her, while Amber turned to the women and laid her finger on her lips. She ushered them up the steps and into the room above, where Alexei had barred the door into the main part of the house. All that remained was to hustle the women through the broken window.
She recognized the guy from the pizza restaurant waiting outside. They exchanged brief nods of recognition, and then he hurried the women into a van with blacked-out windows and drove them away.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked Alexei.
“I’m staying to help clean the place.”
She guessed he wasn’t referring to mopping floors. “Then I’m staying too.”
“No, you’re not,” he said fiercely.
She glared into eyes that held all the warmth of ice chips behind his sinister mask and stood her ground.
“I take it you can remember how to handle a gun?” he bit out seeing she had no intention of moving.
“Military training? And I’ve grown up handling a gun. I used to shoot on the farm all the time, though unarmed combat’s my preferred method of self-defense.”
Reaching down, Alexei pulled a small gun from an ankle holster. “Point and shoot,” he instructed. “Just don’t shoot me. Or yourself,” he added as an afterthought.
Alexei worked smoothly with his team to trap the gang in a pincer movement, while Amber watched his back. They made a good team, though she didn’t take her first decent breath until all the gunfire had stopped.
“It’s done,” one of Alexei’s colleagues informed him, with the briefest of glances at Amber.
“How many of you are there?” she asked when Alexei stood down.
He ignored her question. So did his friend. So she answered it for herself. There were four members of Alexei’s team tonight: Alexei, Dante, Diego, and Cesar, otherwise known as the Blood and Thunder polo team.
Chapter Three
It was only when Alexei leapt into the driver’s seat of the sleek black SUV and tore off his balaclava that she noticed the dark patch on his sleeve. “You’ve been hit.”
“Just a scratch.” He took off from the curb at speed. “You can clean it up when we get back to the ship. If your stomach can take it?”
“My stomach can handle a graze,” she assured him. It wasn’t tending Alexei’s wound she was worried about, but the prospect of touching him.
“You got the standard medical training in the army and a little more besides when you joined Special Ops. Don’t act the fool with me,” he warned. “I’ve read your CV—the authorized version, as well as the bullshit you served up to me.”
His mouth seemed crueler and his harsh accent more pronounced as he flashed a glance at her. “When were you going to tell me the truth? Or are you going to deny that you graduated close to the top of your class?” Alexei’s icy stare bored into her.
Lifting her chin, she remained true to her training and said nothing.
“Do you want the job on my ship or not?”
‘I want it,” she confirmed tensely. “But could you please look where you’re going when you’re driving?”
With a humorless laugh, Alexei sped up, taking them on a tour of the principality’s winding streets like a race car driver.
“Where are your colleagues?” She checked the wing mirrors for a possible tail.
“They can look after themselves,” Alexei said tersely.
She braced herself against the dash as he abruptly swung the wheel. “What will happen to those women now?”
“They’re safe with the relevant authorities and well cared for. The principality won’t risk anything that might taint its brand. This is a playground for the rich and famous. Imagine how it would look if some of the less worthy citizens found their dirty linen being washed in the public square.”
