Page 10 of Lash

She exits the expensive SUV with a single short, sharp nod, and she. A flurry of wind blows, catching the oversized T-shirt like a sail and lifting it, baring her torso from waist to chest. For a split second, my gaze is fixed on her lovely curves—a trim, slender waist, delicate ribcage, and small, firm, high, round breasts.

In that split-second, a flash flood of desire rampages through me.

But then I remember—as I always do, as I am bound to do by the ghosts which haunt me, and I drop my eyes.

Tatiana presses her arm across her middle to keep the shirt down as the wind gusts, and her deep dark eyes are on me. She knows what I saw, and that I looked away.

For another fraught moment, our gazes meet. She looks away first, and I cannot read her thoughts. She picks her way carefully across the street on bare feet, and I wait until she's a good distance away before exiting the car myself. I leave the key fob in the cupholder and jog after Tatiana.

She rounds the corner and is out of sight—I pick up my pace and reach the corner just in time to see her at the keypad for the gate leading into her building's parking lot.

Two men cross the street after her, closer to her than I am by a few dozen meters.

Shit.

They haven't seen me yet, fixated on their quarry; I collapse against the wall and lean heavily against it, letting my hair drape in front of my face, and adopt a shuffling stumble as if intoxicated or drugged.

They notice me and dismiss me in a single glance.

They hurry after Tatiana, entering the portico that covers the gate and keypad. Tatiana made sure the gate was securely latched behind herself, which pleases me.

One of the men shakes the gate as if he could unlock it or loosen it with a few hard shakes. The other man gives him a disgusted, annoyed look, muttering something to him which I am too far away to make out.

The gate is designed to keep cars out, not people, and they make quick work of scaling the fence between the gate and the wall, a narrow section only a hint wider than a man.

I continue my vagrant shuffle, leaning heavily on the wall and watching through the curtain of my hair.

Once both men are over the fence and out of sight, I scrape my hair out of the way and sprint for the portico. I scramble over and land just in time to see them enter the building.

Time to move faster. I sprint for the doorway and then stop, easing it open and peeking in.

Within, the foyer is bright with sunlight and warm, the light reflecting off of white marble floors. A semi-circular desk with a computer monitor faces the entrance, unmanned at the moment. I hear the elevator whining, and soles squeaking on the stairs.

I jog up the stairs, pistol held close to my body as I crane my head to see up the stairs; I catch glimpses of bobbing heads andshoulders, and a quiet murmur of voices speaking in Croatian: "…Alive, so no guns."

"I will only scare her."

"Boss says we don't get paid if she is hurt."

"I won't hurt her."

A snicker of laughter. "You always say that, Josip. Your idea of hurting someone is suspect, though."

"Oh shut up, Dario. If enjoy the spoils of work a little, who will know? Will they believe her? Or me? I won't leave any marks."

"You will get us both killed, Josip. Boss says the client is a big deal and was very clear. The girl is his. I will not help you. I will not be a part of it, and I will tell the truth if I am asked."

"I asked nothing of you, Dario, you useless piece of shit. I will take the risk, and I will have the reward."

Seems to be a running theme, so far. Mercado wants Tatiana for himself, and he wants her "unspoiled."

What does the daughter of a Central European crime lord have to do with a South American drug kingpin? I can see no connection.

Other than me.

I worked for Stjepan when I was younger, and now I work for the Boss, and somehow Mercado has Tatiana Juric in his sights.

I let my mind work on the problem as I ascend the stairs as silently as possible. The two men continue to bicker in Croatian as they make their way to the third floor.