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“As I was saying, before you and Callum got into a pissing contest,” Joe said to both of them, earning almost identical death glares which made him grin. “Grunt is a nickname because the monosyllabic bastard barely talks. His wife calls him Samuel. She’s the only one who does. Well, she’s the only one who’s been allowed to live after calling him Samuel. Anyway, Grunt and I were in the marines together. When we got out, we partnered up to work private security. One of our first jobs was to escort a woman back to the States from Romania. Her father wanted to help her escape her abusive husband. He told us she was married to a business man, someone who owned a chain of coffee shops. We didn’t do more than a surface check and the information was solid. Speaking of coffee…”
Joe waved his empty mug at Ryan who was over at the snack table, working his way through a platter of pastries. With a sigh, Ryan lifted the coffee pot and sauntered over to Joe.
“What did your last slave die of?”
“Heart attack,” Joe said solemnly. “Too many baked goods.”
Ryan gave him a one fingered salute before he headed back to the pastries. Joe’s amusement faded as he looked back at them.
“We thought the job was a straight bodyguard deal—protect the woman while she got the hell out of there. We were wrong. When we met with her, all hell broke loose. She was being followed by a whole load of Rudi’s men. I grabbed the wife while Grunt stayed behind to deal with the assholes that jumped us. That’s probably how they got Grunt’s ugly mug on camera. Knowing Rudi’s rep, he’ll think it’s quid pro quo to take Grunt’s wife away from him. Poetic payback, so to speak—a wife for a wife.”
“Did you get Rudi’s wife to safety?” Ryan sat back down beside Joe—with a plate piled high with snacks.
Joe nodded. “But it was a total cluster f—”
Julia cleared her throat loudly, cutting him off. Joe grinned at the plant.
Clearly, Callum’s patience had reached its limits. The guy stood, folded his arms over one of the many Henleys he owned and wore like a uniform. He was six foot of honed instincts and sharp muscle. If you didn’t know the guy was walking around on two prosthetic legs, you would never have guessed.
“We all up to date now?” It was clear his question was purely an exercise in sarcasm so there were no replies. “Great, then maybe we can get down to business. As Dimitri said, with Durand out of the picture his investigation’s hit a brick wall. That’s where we come in. Lake is working his London contacts to see what info he can dig up as to Rudi’s whereabouts. Abramovich moves around a lot. For Dimitri to set up a meet with him, we need to pin down a location fast.”
“The plan,” Dimitri said, “is to get a personal meeting with Rudi, disable him and access his files for Katrina’s location.”
“Disable him in a way that will make sure he keeps away from Claire,” Megan added.
“But no killing.” Callum stared her down. “We’re security professionals, not hitmen.”
She waved the words away with a flick of her hand, making Dimitri worry about exactly what was going on in her fluffy little head. He made a mental note to grill her about it later. It was important that the whole team were on the same page when it came to Rudi. They couldn’t afford anyone to go off plan—especially not when his sister’s life was at risk.
“Even if Abramovich is in one place long enough to arrange a meeting with,” Rachel waved her phone in Dimitri’s direction, “what makes you think you can get close enough to him to access his records? He doesn’t know you from Adam.”
He swallowed his irritation at her condescending tone. “Because, I have something he wants. Rudi Abramovich wants Grunt’s wife, Claire. He’s desperate to get her. And Claire is an identical twin. So…”
All eyes turned to Megan who gave them a royal wave.
Rachel’s glee was almost palpable. “You’re going to give him Megan and pass her off as Claire.” Her grin was face-splittingly wide. “This is so much better than I could have imagined it would be. Well done, Megan. You do have a purpose on the team. One totally befitting your station in life—you’re bait.”
Chapter Two
Rachel’s laughter was still ringing in Megan’s ears hours later as Dimitri navigated their car
through central London’s traffic. They were on their way to meet up with one of Lake’s contacts. Someone who had a lead on how to get to Rudi.
“I don’t like being called bait.” Even though that was exactly what she was.
“You’re not bait. You’re my partner. We’re in this together. You saving your sister. Me saving mine. Partners.” To his credit, Dimitri even managed to keep a straight face while he said it.
They were stuck in the endless traffic around Piccadilly Circus. “Why is this called a circus anyway? I don’t get it. It isn’t a square, or a roundabout, so I can understand that the town planners wouldn’t want to call it that. But circus, that makes no sense at all.” She turned in her seat to face Dimitri. “Do you think there was an actual circus based here at some point?” She couldn’t see it. The grand Victorian buildings, with their white stone facades and weird little turrets and domes, didn’t look like the sort of place you’d house animals.
“Can we focus on the job?” Dimitri swerved around a double decker bus and into Shaftesbury Avenue, the home of London theatre.
“I came down here to see a play once, when I was in secondary school,” Megan said. “Shakespeare. I can’t remember which one. I was more interested in getting the attention of Hamish McIntosh at the time.” She remembered the kiss they’d managed to sneak in, in the theatre foyer when the teachers weren’t looking. Good times. Now Hamish was a farmer up near Aberdeen and Megan was bait.
She spotted a large banner over a theatre. “Helen Mirren and Libby Collins are doing a play.” With a grin she turned to Dimitri. “When this is all over we need to go. They’re two of my all-time favourite actresses. Helen Mirren especially.”
“Who?”
“Seriously? How can you not know who Helen Mirren is? She’s like acting royalty.” She gaped at him. “You’re one of those guys, aren’t you? I should have realised.”
