Page 14 of France Face-Off (Brotherhood Protectors International #6)

As soon as Alex left his room, Striker went after her to make sure she made it back to the summit meetings safely.

She’d taken the elevator down.

Striker took the stairs with the intention of running all five flights of steps. When he reached the second floor, the stairwell door opened, and he almost ran into Alex as she pushed through.

She stopped, her eyes widening until she realized it was him. She released her breath, her lips curving into a broad smile.

That smile hit Striker square in the chest. “Wow. You should smile more often.”

Her smile faded. “You have to have something to smile about.”

A grin spread across his face. “I guess that means seeing me made you smile.”

Her lips twisted into a wry grimace. “Seeing someone on the stairwell, who isn’t the man in the black ski mask, is much more pleasing than running into him again.”

“I’m still taking it as a compliment,” he said.

Her brow wrinkled. “Are you headed for the summit meetings?”

“No,” he said. “I was making sure you got there. I take it getting off on the second floor was another of your diversionary tactics.”

She nodded.

He tipped his head toward the stairs. “I’ll follow you down, but I won’t step out with you.”

She gave him a brief smile. “Thanks.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Striker chuckled. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know.” Lucie had told him to keep an eye on her, but he didn’t have to go to all the effort of letting her stay with him and share his bed. Something about her made him do things he’d never done before. “Maybe it’s just that I like you.”

Her frown deepened. “Why?”

He gripped her arms in a gentle hold. “You intrigue me, and I admire a woman who can look out for herself.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “Then why are you following me around to make sure I get to the meetings all right?”

Striker grinned. “It’s in my nature to protect.” He bent and brushed his lips across hers. Light, gentle and undemanding. He leaned back and tipped his head toward the door. “Go, or you’ll be late.”

She blinked up at him, her eyes wide.

For a moment, he thought she might slap him.

He was shocked when she rose up on her toes, wrapped her hand behind his neck and pulled him down, her lips colliding with his.

The kiss was brief. Too brief. Then she turned, pushed through the door and bolted.

It was almost as if she were running from him.

The door closed between them before Striker could say anything.

He’d kissed her.

What had he been thinking?

That was just it…he hadn’t been thinking. Kissing her had felt as natural as breathing. When she’d pulled him in for a second kiss, he’d been too stunned to move. He could kick himself for not wrapping his arms around her and deepening the connection. His groin tightened.

The woman was quickly getting beneath his skin. He wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Most likely it wasn’t. But, like standing on a track staring at the light of an oncoming train, he couldn’t force himself out of the path of the train wreck sure to come.

He waited until she was almost all the way across the grand lobby before he exited the stairwell.

The Energy Summit attendees were moving toward the conference room, some hurrying, others talking with their peers as they moved in the same general direction.

“What does a male escort do with his time when he’s not escorting?” a familiar voice said behind him.

He turned to find Natalya, dressed in a calf-length red dress and black high heels. Her makeup was flawless. She’d pulled her thick auburn hair up in a messy bun on the crown of her head. For a woman her age, she was stunning, confident and seemed to know just about everyone at the event.

“I find that people-watching entertains me,” he said.

Natalya fell in step with him, slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow. “Observing people is a good way to learn things about them that they don’t necessarily want you to know.”

Striker glanced down at the woman. “Like?”

“People are creatures of habit. You might find that they always have coffee at exactly seven o’clock in the morning. Some might run the same route every morning if they’re into exercise. Others like to use events like this to leave their wives behind and spend time with their girlfriends.”

“Interesting,” Striker commented. “And you’ve been to enough of these kinds of conferences to observe all that?”

She nodded. “Knowing the players in any event gives you an advantage.”

“How does that help you as an interpreter?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers and holding.

Her lips curled upward on one corner. “Let’s just say…knowledge is power.” She gave him a broad smile, released his arm and took a step away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”

He dipped his head and watched as she walked away with a firm, determined gait.

The woman was an enigma. Most interpreters faded into the background.

Not Natalya. She stood out like a cape in a bullfighter’s arena. It was almost like she owned the bull, or bulls, in this case.

Striker wondered what other activities she participated in besides interpreting. If she was as observant as she seemed, she could be blackmailing diplomats and leaders from a variety of different countries.

She was one to watch.

“Striker?” Lucie’s voice sounded in his ear, startling him.

He’d almost forgotten putting the earbud on that morning. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you somewhere you can talk?”.

“No, ma’am,” he said and headed for the elevator. “Let me get to my room where I can speak freely.”

“Good. I have some information about Ms. Sokolov that you might find interesting.”

Striker’s pulse kicked up. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

“I’ll stand by.”

He entered the elevator and, using Alex’s method, punched the button for the fourth floor. Once the elevator opened, he headed for the stairs and climbed to his floor. When he was safely in his room, he closed the door and engaged the lock. “Okay. I’m in my room. Shoot.”

“Boot your laptop,” she ordered.

He crossed to the desk, opened the laptop and waited for the screen to come up. Moments later, an image of a family appeared in front of him. A man, a woman and a little girl with raven-black hair.

He immediately knew the girl was Alex. “Alex’s family,” he said softly.

“That’s right,” Lucie said. “They went by the names Mischa and Pavel Federov and their daughter Anya.”

“Not Alex Sokolov?”

“Not at the time that photo was taken.” Lucie paused.

“Their real names were Inna and Petyr Sokolov. Their daughter Alexa probably never really lived with that name. She was very young when they moved to Russia and became the Federovs. You see, Inna and Petyr were CIA sleeper agents embedded in Moscow, working for members of the Russian government and passing secrets to their handlers in the CIA.”

His breath held. “Did Alex know what they did?”

“That, I don’t know,” Lucie said. “She lived with her parents until she was in her mid-twenties, when Inna and Petyr were killed in a house fire. At least, that was how it was reported. The press assumed the entire family perished in the fire, including the couple’s daughter.

The fire was so hot that there wasn’t much left of their remains. ”

“Alex escaped.” Striker could imagine the horror she’d witnessed.

“And the Russians assumed she’d died along with Mischa and Pavel.”

“Until now,” he said.

“We captured an image of her face when you two were viewing the reception hall videos. Our facial recognition software went to work, going through stored video images from all over the world. We found clips stored on the CIA’s database.

Apparently, the CIA has had sightings of her over the past two years.

They want to bring her in for questioning about her parents’ deaths, but every time they get close, she disappears.

The night her parents were killed, the Federovs were supposed to meet with one of their handlers to hand over something important. ”

“The CIA told you that?” Striker asked.

Lucie chuckled. “Let’s just say I have ways to gather information. I suspect Alexa got out of the house and could have whatever her parents were supposed to pass to the CIA. Thus, their interest in bringing her in for questioning.”

Striker stiffened. “Someone broke into her room last night. Was it the CIA?”

“No, but there are agents at the Energy Summit watching. The night the Sokolovs were killed, they’d contacted their handler, stating they had information they needed to pass to the director of the CIA.

The Sokolovs insisted on meeting in person to hand it over. They never made their scheduled drop.”

“All Alex said was her parents were deceased,” Striker said. Then again, why would she tell a complete stranger her parents had died in a house fire or were possibly murdered for information they were supposed to pass to the CIA?

“The news report only indicated they’d perished in a house fire. Considering they didn’t make their drop, I’d bet it was more than that with the typical Russian cover-up,” Lucie said. “There’s something else you should know concerning Alexa.”

Striker tensed.

“The CIA isn’t sure, but they think Anya might be the person responsible for the deaths of a number of men who’ve been linked to a team of mercenaries who were in Moscow the night her parents died.

She might also be linked to the death of a member of the Russian government and an informant for the CIA.

The Sokolovs worked with him. The CIA thinks that guy was a double agent, working both camps.

He might have been the one who exposed the Sokolovs. ”

A mercenary team, a house fire and assassinations. Daniel shook his head. “It fits. She has some self-defense skills not usually taught in public schools.”

“If she is responsible for the deaths of the mercenaries and the double agent, she could be highly dangerous. And she might be the one targeting the Russians.”

“She didn’t stab Anatoly,” Striker said.