She sighed. “You, I’m afraid.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“You don’t look like the fiancé of a successful art broker,” she replied.
“I think my get up is pretty solid,” I shot back.
“It is, if you’re trying to blend in with everychuvakon the block, but you’re gonna need a shower, shave, and a change of clothes before you meet Sasha.”
“I look forward to all three of those things in the morning,” I said, scanning the tiny space for where I might crash out tonight.
Tess chuckled. “You’re meeting him tonight, cowboy.”
“Tonight?”
Tess checked her watch. “In five hours, in fact.”
“Five hours?”
“Sasha is throwing a cocktail party for a few of his friends, knew you were arriving today, and insisted I bring you.”
“And he knew I was arriving today because, you told him?”
“That’s right,” she replied. “The closer our lies are to the truth, the less suspicious we are.”
“Espionage and Deception, by Walter F. Charles, chapter two, page twenty-seven,” I replied.
“Are you always a smug prick?”
“Only when I’m right,” I replied. “Now, when exactly were you going to tell me about Sasha’s little soiree tonight?”
“I’m telling you right now,” she replied.
“Cute. Very cute,” I said. “I’m not ready.”
“I know, that’s why we’re here,” Tess replied. “The shower’s in there. Believe it or not, the water pressure and temperature are better here than at my place back home. There’s shampoo, soap, fresh towels, and everything you’ll need in there. When youget out, I’ll give you a shave and will have a clean set of clothes for you to change into.”
I laughed. “Shave me? I think I can handle that myself, thanks. Besides, I usually rock a bit of stubble.”
“That’s exactly why I’m going to shave you,” Tess replied. “Unlike the tzars and oligarchs of yesterday, young Russian men of high status prefer a clean shaven, highly manicured look. You look like you’re headed for a football match, and the man you are about to meet has enough money to buy a football team. Sasha, and the people he surrounds himself with, are all obsessed with appearance, fashion, and grooming trends.”
“Point taken. I can get into character, don’t worry. I’ll shave in the shower.”
“You ever use a straight razor before?”
“No thanks, I’ve got razors in my bag.”
Tess snickered. “No, you’ve got blue plastic toothbrushes with a couple of metal strips attached to the ends that shave unevenly and remove as much skin tissue as they do facial hair.”
“I use the same kind of razor every man shaves with every day,” I countered.
“Notthesemen,” Tess said, her tone turning serious. “Trust me. Take your shower and leave the shave to me.”
Trust me? As if I had a choice. From the moment I arrived in Russia, Officer Teresa St. Marks had been two steps ahead of me. Hell, she was five months and ten thousand steps ahead of me. Every new bit of information she gave me informed me ofjust how little information I’d been provided about this mission. The truth was, without Tess, I’d be standing at the train station in St. Petersburg with my thumb up my ass, headed for certain doom.
What the fuck had I gotten myself into? More importantly, what the fuck had Leslie signed me up for?
* * *
