Something about this didn’t sit right. How close were his ties with Russia? Was he the mole? Wikipedia said that you had to be Russian or have significant ties to Russia to join the Russian Mafia. Some sources said you had to have been in a Russian prison for three years.
After she grabbed a four-shot latte, she asked, “Markus, do you think I’m in danger at all?” while watching his expression carefully.
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
“Someone got to Darcy, right?” He didn’t answer, because they both knew the answer. She said, “I want to take more precautions. I don’t want to be a sitting duck.”
“You’re as safe as any EOD agent is, at least that I know of.” He was looking deep into her eyes. “You’re not holding back anything, are you? Did something happen while we were out of touch yesterday?”
She shook her head. “Everything was fine.”
“Tell me the minute you get a bad feeling about anything. Promise me. That’s how you stay safe. Communication. You’re on the ground, and I’m stuck off-site for the moment.” The way he said “stuck off-site” made it seem like he was really resentful of the fact, champing at the bit to get back into the action.
“Of course,” she answered, but telling him the problem was the one thing she couldn’t do. Smirnov had made that much clear. Markus might be handsome and sweet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a gangster. The fact that she liked him made it all the more likely. Gabby never liked anyone good for her.
Gabby was alone.
Tuesday, only a few minutes late for work, eStocks Enterprises
The only saving grace was that it should be a quiet day at eStocks. Make coffee, smile, and order appetizers for that damn party. She could autopilot her way through that as much as possible while looking for the codes. This couldn’t be any worse than a party for ten-year-old boys or, even worse, preteen girls. For Kyle’s birthday party last year, Gabby had thought the kids were going to watch all threePitch Perfects and eat pizza. Instead, they’d divided into factions, some drama over a boy. There had been a lot of crying. She’d spent the night on the phone with various parents: “Would you mind coming to pick up your daughter?” Phil had slept through the whole thing. Mobsters couldn’t be any worse than that.
When she pulled into the office parking lot, Gabby slipped her earpiece in and turned it on. “Hey, Markus.”
“Hey, Gabs,” he said. “What’s on the agenda today?”
“The usual.” Like she’d been working there for ages, she bustled in and got everything started. Before she could add Valentina’s list of spies to the guest list, Kramer barked, “Camille, my office. Now!”
From the tone of his voice, she had done something horrible.
“Where’s the invite for that party?” Kramer’s gaze was burning her alive. She was one of those ants Lucas had burned with a magnifying glass last summer.
“Um…”
“That should have been done yesterday.”
“I was just about to pick out the venue so I can send the Evites this afternoon.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? The party is on Saturday. This should have been done the minute I told you.”
A sinking feeling came over her. “Which Saturday did you mean?”
“This Saturday, as in four days from now? What Saturday did you think I meant?” he asked, sounding like he was about ready to bite off her head. And she’d only been at the job twenty-four hours.
“I thought you meant the next one.” Even that was a tight squeeze. This Saturday was insanity. You’d have to be a professional to do that, which made her think…
“If I meant next Saturday, I would have said ‘next.’” He growled into space like an angry bear, looked down at the floor, and then back up at her. “If it wasn’t all-hands-on-deck this week, you would be walking to the parking lot with a box of your things right now.”
Gabby froze. Fear slammed into her like a freight train. She couldn’t lose this job. Smirnov would kill her if that happened. He would kill her kids.
In her ear, Markus said, “We can turn this around. Ask for a second chance.”
It was going to be Kyle’s birthday party all over again.
“I don’t even know what to do with this.” Kramer drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’m half thinking of canceling the party. Orlov and I can go out for drinks alone. Actually, that’s what I’m going to do, in which case—” He looked at her and, with emphasis, declared, “I don’t need you.”
“We need that party,” Markus said. “Convince him you can do this, Gabby.”
She couldn’t, but she knew who could.
