Page 67 of Mile High Ruin

“The attack in Prague was theirs?” I ask.

“Almost certainly,” Iosef says. “The vehicle used belonged to a company connected to one of Petrov’s cousins.”

“And the man outside my apartment?”

“Also Petrov.”

Marek leans back. “Eventually one of them will get lucky.”

“No.”

“You sound very confident.”

“I have met Viktor.”

“That is not the same as being bulletproof.”

“He is emotional.”

“So are you lately.” His gaze flicks toward the bedroom.

I ignore him. “The woman has nothing to do with this.”

“No,” Iosef says, surprising me.

Marek looks at him.

Iosef shrugs. “She was assaulted. Vadim reacted.”

“Reacted,” Marek repeats. “He nearly turned the pilot’s skull into the galley wall.”

“I would have done the same,” Iosef says.

I find myself unexpectedly grateful that at least one person in this cabin understands my reaction without turning it into evidence of insanity.

I pick up the revised agreement. “We land in a few hours. I want Petrov’s movements for the last seventy-two hours before we reach the hotel.”

Work gives me the distraction I wanted. For the next two hours, we discuss Petrov, the compromised shipping route, and the security arrangements awaiting us on the ground. By the time the cabin lights brighten for landing, my attention has almost returned to normal.

Almost.

The bedroom door opens, and every conversation stops.

Sloane steps into the cabin.

She looks considerably better. Her hair has been redone into the same neat knot she wore earlier, though a few strands remain loose near her temples, and she has apparently repaired her makeup enough to disguise most of the exhaustion in her face.

The mark on her cheek is still visible.

My mood darkens immediately.

She sees all of us looking at her. “What?”

Marek lifts his glass. “Nothing.”

Her eyes narrow. “You are all very strange.”

“An accurate assessment,” Iosef says.