an underling. He would save it and feed it and wait for
the appropriate time to unleash it on Djeserit herself.
Pyotr stopped a polite distance away, and said, “I believe I am expected.”
At that moment, there was an audible click as
Djeserit released the lock on the door. Pyotr looked
straight at the pin on the guard’s tie and smiled for the
camera. Idiot. Did she think he was unaware of her
games? He knew about her spy cameras and the button
under the edge of her desk that she used to release her
door lock so she wouldn’t actually have to stand and
cross the room.
Djeserit was no fool. He never underestimated her.
But predictability was her downfall.
Entering her office, he suppressed the urge to swipe
his arm across the glass top of her desk, sending all her
papers and treasures flying about. Instead, he lifted a
pen that had fallen to the carpet and carried it to her,
using that as an excuse to round the desk and loom over
her.
With a smile, he set the pen down and said, “What
have you done with our friend?”
Djeserit blinked, a slow lowering and raising of her
EVE SILVER
193
lids that made the first ember of unease flicker to life
in Pyotr’s gut. He’d thought this was her doing, that he
was unable to reach the man he sought because Djeserit
had somehow blocked him.
Her reaction told him that was fallacy.
She didn’t know a damned thing.
