Page 122 of The Vampire's Storm

Did he have a Russian accent?

“Oh”—she hugged the Tupperware container to her chest—“I used to work here.”

He glared down at her.

“Just looking for the lid.” She held up the clear plastic. “I left last month. It’s my favorite. Perfect size for soup and salads. Seriously. And you know how pricy this stuff is. Well, maybe you don’t. Anyway, sorry, I’ll just get out of your way.”

When my science career is over, I am seriously going to consider acting. Unless he doesn’t buy it and I end up dead.

Then it wouldn’t matter.

His frown deepened as he studied her and the empty container.

“Go.” He waved her on with annoyance.

Brooklyn skipped past him, but now wished she’d just gone downstairs. The reality of how dangerous this situation truly was had never been clearer.

Worse, she didn’t even know if they had a lunchroom on this floor.

Crap.

Racking her memory for directions after being startled by the Russian, she closed her eyes. Left, next right, along the long corridor, and then two more lefts.

Brooklyn set off and, before she took the final left, she stopped. Then peeked around the corner and was glad she had. Three armed men in black suits stood outside the door.

This was it.

The lab holding the Moretti princesses.

She quickly ran past and did a full circle around the floor, returning to the elevators. The two guards glanced at her as she pushed the button, waiting for it to open.

“No luck.” She shrugged, holding up the plastic and then turned her back on them, cringing.

“Tell him he has to call me immediately.” A deep and angry Russian voice growled behind her.

Slowly, she turned and found herself face-to-face with Nikolay Mikhailov. She knew who he was because his photo was on the wall in the Moretti operations room.

Fuck.

Trembling, she stood hugging the Tupperware to her chest as if it was a bulletproof vest.

“I don’t give a fuck. He has one hour.” Nikolay grunted and hung up. “Where is Alexis?”

“Getting sushi,” one of the guards replied.

“Jesus Christ,” the mobster ground out.

Come on, open the hell up. She mentally screamed at the elevator, feeling the dangerous mobster’s eyes on her back.

“Who are you? Who is this woman?”

Oh, fuck.

Brooklyn turned and almost threw up at the dark gleam in his eyes. If she had thought Logan was dangerous, she was wrong. Well, he was. But not to her. Despite what he claimed.

This man? Yeah, he would kill her.

“Brook,” she answered.