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Right now, Nail Mironov was the bigger question mark. He wasn’t the leader. It was the one thing that Kairo and Alexei could confirm. He was a middleman, or possibly a right-hand man, for someone who had so far remained in the shadows. They were confident that Mironov’s operation was larger than Rive’s and was based primarily in Eastern Europe, specializing in fakes. However, they could occasionally get their hands on the genuine article, which was why they were so very interested in Max’s work.
Ed frowned. Max was getting close to his answer. He was waiting for some replies from some experts in his field so he could declare a direction for them. But it was coming. Any day now.
And they needed to get Nail and Rive under control before moving out.
“Where are we meeting Mironov?”
“There’s a wooden gazebo coming up near a water feature. He’s supposed to be there,” Soren replied.
“Clearly he didn’t agree to come alone. I’ve clocked at least three of his people eyeballing us since we entered the park,” Ed grumbled softly.
Soren sighed. “It would be so boring if this was a simple meeting between two sides. Of course, he’s got backup.” Soren leaned toward him and grinned. “Besides, we’ve got our own little birdies watching out for us.”
“Fuck off,” West snarled in their ears through the communication devices they were both wearing.
He and Charlie had shown up an hour earlier and surveyed the park, picking out good vantage points from which to watch the meeting, and more importantly, watch for people looking to take him and Soren out.
“Oh, don’t worry. We’re not the only ones at this party,” Charlie interjected, his voice slightly muffled.
“I spotted two people I know work for Rive,” West said.
“Unless they’re double-dipping. Working both sides. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Soren had a very twisted idea of what fun was, which was probably why he and Alexei were a perfect match. It was on the tip of his tongue to say they should have sent Alexei with Soren for this meeting, but that would have been too much chaos all at once.
Plus, Ed very much wanted to stare into the eyes of the man who ordered the torture Max had suffered through before he encountered Ed on the street.
Okay, so maybe he wanted to rip the man’s head off with his bare hands and chuck it into the nearby water feature, but it was unlikely that was going to save Max in the long run.
It would make Ed feel so much better, though.
As they turned a last corner and the trees pulled away from the sidewalk, they spotted their destination. Even from a distance, he could see that there were two people inside. One person sat on a bench while another paced. Naturally, there were two more people standing outside the gazebo as guards. That was expected.
Ed fell back a step, letting Soren move into the lead as they drew closer to the meeting place. Soren was the talker in this situation. Ed was happy to serve as the impressively scary and silent muscle. That allowed him to keep a better eye on Mironov’s guards as well as listen more closely to Charlie’s and West’s directions. Kairo was largely out of this meeting since there were zero surveillance cameras within this section of the park. However, their resident hacker was standing by should they need to make a quick escape and scramble to safety.
From the corner of his eye, Ed watched Soren tighten up his gait and lift his chin a touch higher in the air as he fell into character. Ed was torn between smirking at his friend and simply being in awe of him. During their years in the CIA together, he’d watched Soren seamlessly shift from one persona to the next with no resemblance to his true self. He was a chameleon when he needed to be.
But it was so very nice that he’d found someone he could be himself around.
Soren didn’t even give the two guards outside the gazebo a passing glance as he strode inside with unwavering confidence. Ed followed, careful to pick out the slightly hidden bulges under their long linen shirts. Probably handguns. Maybe a knife. That was fine. Ed had two guns and several knives strapped to his body. He just might have some danger putty too that he didn’t tell anyone about.
Fair fights were completely overrated. He liked to keep things leaning toward his advantage.
The pacing man stopped and faced Soren, his hands resting on his hips. Dressed in a dark suit, the man appeared stylish, but Ed’s first thought was that it looked uncomfortably hot. The sun was blazing overhead and the dryness of the air left Ed feeling endlessly parched. Even the sweat slipping down under his shirt was evaporating before it could offer any relief. How in the world did Max survive in this with his constant returns for digs?
