“Mr. Ambassador, I think you’ve crossed the line.” She stood, walked to the doorway. “I am insulted and disgusted that you would ask me a personal question.” She gestured for him to leave.
With his mouth set in a hard line, he rose, crossed his arms, and stared down at her. “Pavel was murdered by armed militia.”
She waited a beat, pretending to let his words sink in. “What do you mean murdered?”
“A military man with machine gun went on killing spree at private club.”
She swallowed down the bitter bile. “I’m sorry he’s gone.”
“Do you know this club?”
Her desk phone rang. She ignored it, but it didn’t stop. “Excuse me.” She answered. It was one of her translators. “I will be right up.” She hung up, shot the ambassador a cool stare. “My team needs me.”
But she would not walk out on the ambassador. That would be a sign of disrespect. She knew her place, wouldn’t cross that line, especially now. For all she knew, someone had snapped a photo of her, clothed or in her underwear. Maybe even Donskoy himself.”
“I know Krov bar,” she said. “I don’t know a private club. Was Pavel with anyone?”
“Dmitri Petrov is asking around.”
“Let me know how I can help,” she said.
With a tight nod, he left.
A shiver skirted through her. With Dmitri Petrov questioning the clubbers, there was a strong chance someone had seen her and could describe her to Petrov.
This is not good.
Dmitri Petrov’s like a rabid dog with a bone.
With her small crossbody bag strapped across her chest, she hurried out.
She needed to access the ambassador’s laptop and upload everything she could find. Without the latex finger from her brother, she was a sitting duck. It might be days—could be hours—before someone identified her as the woman who entered the Russian sex club with Pavel Donskoy but left with the armed militia. Never before had she felt the intense pressure as she did in that moment.
As she climbed the stairs and hurried down the hall toward her team, she glanced at the security camera mounted in the ceiling.
Am I being watched?
For the first time since taking the assignment, she didnotfeel safe at her place of work.
16
FEELING THE HEAT
HALSTON
At the end of the workday, Halston left the embassy, tightening her scarf to shelter her from the bitter wind. She scheduled a rideshare, hurried to the pick-up location, and jumped into the waiting car. After directing the driver to the hotel, she unearthed her personal phone from her handbag. Though her fingers tingled to read the unread texts, she shoved the device into her pocket and stared out the window.
The Agency’s unpublished motto—Eyes areEverywhere—was a creed she lived by.
There could easily be cameras in the rideshare. Moments later, she keyed her way into her suite. The unexpected aroma of Italian spices made her mouth water.
“Hello?” she called out.
Gabriel sauntered out from the small kitchen, the sleeves on his black shirt rolled up. As she got closer, she couldn’t miss the grief in his eyes.
“There’s my woman.” He pulled her into his arms. His kiss left her breathless, then a peck on each cheek.
“You’re here,” she said. “I’m so happy to see you. Are you all moved in?”
