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“What’s going on?” she asked as she sat down.
“Jeremy took it upon himself to secure possible information.” I gritted my teeth, glancing from one side of the room to the other. No one else was paying a damn bit of attention. I pulled out the communications device I’d brought with me, checking to make certain it was operational. I hated the thought of not being able to trust Jeremy completely, but he’d changed significantly. Granted, he’d say the same damn thing about me. What I would do was record the conversation. That could prove helpful in identifying the Russian.
And the level of threat from talking with him.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, her tone riddled with anxiety.
“Don’t worry about it. Just relax. Do you still have the ring I gave you?” I’d yet to give her the damn butterfly. There hadn’t been a right time.
She lifted her hand. “Always.”
“Good. If anything odd happens and I’m not near you, press it. I don’t care if it ends up being a false alarm. Do you understand?” I heard the gruffness in my tone, but I needed to ensure that she knew no matter where we were, we had to be on alert.
“Should I be nervous?”
I glanced into her eyes, allowing my features to soften briefly. “Always. Remember that.”
Jeremy returned, giving Isabella a quick look. “You need to go outside. He’s not comfortable here.”
Inhaling, I gave him a hard look. “Stay with her, Jeremy.”
He slid into his seat and grabbed his drink, nodding several times. “I’m not going anywhere.”
As I stood, I scanned the room one more time. Not a single person bothered to turn their head in my direction. I moved toward the exit, unsnapping the holster before walking outside. I found the man in question on the side of the building, one of the few lights in the parking lot barely illuminating his rugged features. He was shorter but stockier, but if the shit went down, I had no doubt I’d be able to handle him. He stood smoking a cigarette, not bothering to offer shaking my hand. There would be no exchange of names, we wouldn’t be acquaintances and after today, we’d both deny the other’s existence.
“You the Marine?” he asked, his Russian accent heavy but his words easily understandable.
“Yeah.” I knew better than to bother asking who he was.
“You need information.”
“Yes.”
He took a drag on a cigarette. “You know the price.”
“Yeah, but the terms are the information needs to be vital.”
His laugh just added to my level of irritation. “What you Americans think is vital means shit to a Russian.”
We were talking semantics now? I was ready to walk back into the restaurant. My patience had been tested far too many times as of late.
When I said nothing, he cursed in Russian, although I understood every word he said.
Fucking useless piece of shit Marine.
I fisted my hand, doing everything I could to maintain control. If he had useful information, it would be to my benefit to keep from acting on my impulses.
“The woman in question is valuable to a certain party within Russia,” he offered.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
He took another drag then flicked the cigarette onto the parking lot. “What she knows will enable them to gain control of the government.”
A shift in power. Interesting.
“For a war?”
“I am not privy to that information.”
