Page 7 of France Face-Off (Brotherhood Protectors International #6)

She propped a fist on her hip. “If I had wanted to kill him, I would’ve done it as soon as we walked into the rose garden. I only pulled my knife to reinforce the fact I didn’t appreciate his intentions. The French police will be reviewing the video surveillance,” Alex said.

Striker nodded.

“And they’ll come up with the same conclusion we have. We still don’t know who struck Anatoly Petrov. It could’ve been anyone in that group,” Alex said. She drew in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “Fortunately, the strike wasn’t sufficient to kill the man.”

Whoever had done it still had two days to complete their mission, which meant that Striker had to be on his toes for the next two days.

He wasn’t sure how he would mingle with the diplomats as a paid escort.

Alex had the better vantage point as a translator.

She would be involved in all the sessions discussing the fate of the pipeline and the other items on the agenda for the energy summit.

Unless he offered his services as a bodyguard to the Russians, he might not be able to infiltrate the conference room where the diplomats would be discussing the fate of several nations and their access to natural gas.

“I’d better be going,” Alex said and headed for the door.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” Striker offered.

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I know you can take care of yourself; however, I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t offer to see you to your room.”

She smiled. “I would prefer if you didn’t.”

“Very well,” he said, “then I’ll call it a night.” He walked with her to the door, reached around her to open it and held it as she walked through.

She turned and faced him. “I wasn’t going to kill Anatoly.”

The sincerity in her tone and the expression on her face made Striker want to believe her.

But he didn’t know her, and he wasn’t sure if he could trust her.

Still, his instincts told him he could. He didn’t like her walking around the hotel by herself at night, even though the hotel security was pretty tight.

They hadn’t stopped the attacker from stabbing Anatoly.

“I’d rather you let me walk you to your room,” Striker said.

“I would rather you didn’t. Goodnight, Daniel,” she said.

Hearing her calling him Daniel was jarring to his senses. That was his cover, and he had no intention of blowing it. “Goodnight, Alex.”

She turned and walked toward the elevator.

He stood in the hallway until she entered the car.

When the doors closed, he ran down to the elevator bank and watched as the elevator rose two floors to the seventh.

He punched the button to go up. He wasn’t sure why she had specifically said for him not to follow her, but his gut told him to try.

A different elevator rose. He waited and watched as the elevator she had gotten onto paused for a long time on the seventh floor before finally coming back down.

Meanwhile, the other elevator’s door opened.

Striker stepped onboard and punched the number seven.

The door slid closed, and he rose up the two floors.

When he stepped out into the corridor, it was empty.

Short of knocking on each door until he found the right one, he’d missed his opportunity.

He stepped back through the open elevator door and went back down to his floor.

When he entered his room, he couldn’t help but feel how empty it was without her presence.

He sat at the desk, brought up the images on the laptop and ran through the recording several more times before concluding the videos were useless at positively identifying the person who had stabbed Anatoly Petrov.

“Well done tonight, Striker,” a voice said in his ear.

He jumped, not having expected somebody to be talking to him at that time of night. His heart beat hard in his chest. “Lucie, you’ve got to stop popping into my ear.”

She chuckled. “My apologies for startling you.”

“How can you say I did a good job?” Striker said. “I was busy out in the garden with a woman while one of the Russians was attacked.”

“Without being a personal bodyguard,” she said.

“Well, I didn’t protect Anatoly from an attack.”

“Even had you been in that reception hall,” Lucie said, “you still might not have protected him from an attack. No worries,” Lucie said.

“However, we did perform a background check on Alexa Sokolov. We were able to capture her image when you two were viewing the video footage from the Baie de Anges reception hall.”

Lucie had his attention. “And?”

“Her parents were CIA agents who were exposed and murdered in Moscow two years ago. Alexa was believed to have perished in the fire that burned their home to the ground. Apparently, she didn’t.”

“Does she have any other siblings?” Striker asked.

“No,” Lucie said, “she was an only child.”

“What does she do for a living?” Striker asked.

“She was a translator before her parents’ deaths.”

Striker snorted. “She claims she’s a translator now. That jives with her story, except for one thing. I found her in the garden about to stab Anatoly Petrov. She swears she wasn’t going to kill him. She was just using the knife to send a message to the man to keep his hands off her.”

“She bears watching,” Lucie said. “I’ll have my people go deeper into her background.”

“What about Natalya?”

“Your duties for her ended. She only needed an escort for the reception.”

“If I am no longer a paid escort, how do I maintain my cover?”

“The sessions are heavily monitored, and you won’t be allowed into those. However, they don’t go on all day long. The delegates will adjourn for lunch and for the evening meal. Lunch and dinner will be provided in one of the banquet halls. You’ll eat when the delegates eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Striker said.

“Oh, and, Striker, move about with caution and keep your eyes open. Our sources assure me tensions are high and the stakes are higher.”