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“What was that about earlier?” Maksim asks, and I know he’s talking about the girl.
“Just a drunk getting handsy with staff,” I say, reaching for my drink. The scotch burns down my throat, but it does nothing to wash away the taste of confusion that’s coating my tongue.
Maksim’s dark eyes narrow. “And you felt the need to intervene because...?”
“Because I don’t like watching women get assaulted in establishments where I’m conducting business.”
It’s a reasonable explanation and the kind of thing the old me might have said, but Maksim has known me too long to buy it completely. “This is about the Volkov woman.”
It’s not a question. He’s been my second-in-command for eight years, and he can read me better than anyone else alive. “Possibly.”
“Nikandr.” His voice carries a warning. “If that’s her, she’s the enemy. If it’s not her, she’s a civilian who doesn’t deserve to get caught in the crossfire of our war with Morozov.”
“I’m aware of the variables.”
He shakes his head. “Are you? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you just claimed ownership of a woman you’ve been watching for three hours.”
The accuracy of his observation irritates me. “I said what I needed to say to get Williams to back off. We’re not there anymore. We left her alone for the night, and I think that’s fair.”
He arches a brow. “You could have accomplished the same thing by taking the bastard with us when we left. Could’ve taken care of him the old fashioned way, without talking to the girl.”
I flash a quick smile. “Too messy. Too public. Besides, I wanted to see her up close to know for sure that it’s her.”
Maksim doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push further. Smart man. He knows when I’ve reached the limits of what I’m willing to discuss, especially in a public setting.
For the rest of the evening, I force myself to focus on the conversation at our table while my mind threatens to wander too far with a woman I shouldn’t be so attracted to. She’s dangerous, able to strike like a viper, but her lips are soft and her eyes are innocent.
I bet that’s how she gets them. Innocent eyes. It’s hard not to believe ever word she says.
When the bartender announces last call, I settle our tab and lead my men toward the exit.
We walk out into the cool night air, where Maksim is already waiting beside our SUV.
“We need to talk,” he says without preamble.
“Not here.” I slide into the back seat and give the driver an address across town. “My office. Twenty minutes.”
The ride passes in silence, but I can feel Maksim’s disapproval radiating from the seat beside me like heat from a furnace.He’s right to be concerned. In our line of work, emotional involvement is a luxury that gets people killed.
Despite that, I can’t forget her expression when I touched her wrist, or the way her eyes widened with something that looked remarkably like wonder. If she’s Irina Volkov, she’s the most accomplished actress I’ve ever encountered. If she’s not...
If she’s not, then I’ve just inserted myself into the life of an innocent woman based on nothing more than a resemblance to someone who destroyed my family. The thought should horrify me. Instead, it makes me want to know everything about her, including her real name, her history, and what she dreams about when she falls asleep in whatever small apartment she can afford on a bottle service salary.
At my office, Maksim pours himself vodka and settles into the chair across from my desk.
Before he can speak, I say, “Did you get surveillance on the club? Video, audio… The works?”
“It’s in progress. I contacted our source there before we left. He’ll have everything installed by Thursday.”
Of course, he did. Maksim thinks three steps ahead on his worst day. It’s what makes him invaluable and occasionally insufferable.
“What else?” He sips the vodka slowly.
“I want everything we can dig up on every employee. Full background checks, financial records, and social media presence. Everything, including her.” I don’t have to identify who ‘her’ is.
He snorts. “You mean especially her. What are you going to do if she turns out to be exactly who we think she is?”
The question hangs in the air. If she’s Irina Volkov, she’s the key to ending Vadim’s operation, getting justice for my brother’s murder, and bringing down half the criminal enterprises on the West Coast with the knowledge in her head.