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“No one should call her such a name,” Alex said, frowning. “If I had been there, I would have stood up and defended her honor.”
Groaning, Cal gripped the man’s shoulder. “Look, this isn’t the 1800’s in Ukraine. Okay? Lauren is fully capable of handling herself in all situations.”
Alex grabbed a towel, wiping his damp face and pulling it around his thick neck. “I will always see every woman as needing a man to protect her.”
“Oh, nooooooo,” Cal muttered, “NEVER say that around Lauren. Please… you really don’t want her reaction to that kind of male, neanderthal statement.”
Frustration lined his expression and Alex looked out at the dark blue ocean for a moment. “Then,” he said darkly, as he stared over at Cal, “how do I tell her I like her?”
“You don’t,” Cal growled. “Just give her time. And space.”
“Could I not compliment her on her hair. It is a beautiful red color.”
“No.”
“Then, her eyes. They are like emeralds.”
“No.”
“I could compliment her on how well she walks.”
“Oh, shit, no. You don’t understand the line between sexual harassment and dealing with a woman coworker in your workplace, Alex.”
Shaking his head, Alex sighed. “You Americans have so many rules. It is confusing even to me. In Ukraine, things are simple: if you like a woman, you sing her love songs, you take walks with her, you listen to what she thinks is important…”
“Don’t work that way over here, partner,” Cal muttered. “Just take my advice: pretend Lauren doesn’t exist. If she likes you, she’ll eventually come around to you.”
“That’s impossible,” Alex said heavily. “How can I ignore such combined beauty with brains?”
Ivan brought the latest information to Yerik. It was near quitting time, and his assistant had already left for the day. He handed his boss a thumb drive. “Put this in your laptop,” he suggested, moving to the other side of the desk to stand next to him.
“News?” Yerik asked hopefully, shoving the thumb drive into his PC.
“See what you think,” Ivan said.
Yerik eagerly waited for the file to load and opened it up. He saw many digital photos taken by the Russian men on the ground in Coronado. His face lit up. “So, these are good. Your team caught them alone on a beach with one another?”
Pleased, Ivan nodded. “Yes.”
Yerik studied the photo intently. “This is good. Clearly, she is in love with Sinclair.”
“Clearly,” Ivan smiled a little. “The next photos are of the three women in the condo. We’re trying to identify the redhead. The other woman next to Sky is Abby Harrison. Her husband is an ex-SEAL. You’ll see him in a minute.”
Yerik scowled. “That redhead looks military.”
“We think she is. We’re trying to find out who she is.”
Yerik studied several photos of a dive boat coming into dock at the San Diego yacht club basin in the late afternoon.
Ivan leaned over, pressing his finger on one particular closeup. “Now, what I find very interesting about this is the man next to Sinclair?”
“Yes?”
“That is Alexei Kazak, a Ukrainian. He was with your son’s team down in Peru. Ex-Spetsnaz and a combat medic. He had been shot in the leg after Sinclair found and rescued Sky Lambert from that village. Later, when the Army Special Forces team arrived, they attacked Vlad and his team who refused to give up. The analyst THINKS that maybe one of those Special Forces soldiers killed Vlad, but there is no concrete proof of it. We never found out where Kazak went after the Americans took him into custody. His Ukrainian medic partner, Nikita Morozov, disappeared also and we cannot locate him. Now? Kazak finally shows up in the U.S.”
Scowling, Yerik studied the young Ukrainian soldier. “This smells, Ivan.”
“Indeed. I think so.”
