The accusation lands hard between us. I could deny it and act offended, but I understand where it comes from because if I were in her position, I’d be thinking the same thing.
5
Sasha
Around three in the morning, when I can’t sleep, I decide that Tony didn’t know about the car bomb.
It’s simple.
If he had known, he wouldn’t have put himself in the SUV directly behind the target. He would have found an excuse to delay, take a different route, or be anywhere except close enough to get shredded by shrapnel. The man fights like special operations, which means he thinks tactically. Nobody with that training deliberately positions themselves next to an explosion.
So, either he’s innocent, or he’s the most committed operative I’ve met.
I’m betting on innocent. Mostly.
By seven in the morning, I’ve made my decision. Dmitri agrees when I call him, though he insists on additional security measures. By nine, I’m standing outside Tony’s hotel with two of Boris’ men and a key to one of our secure properties.
The hotel lobby smells like stale cigarettes and mold. I take the stairs to the third floor and knock on room 312.
Tony opens the door shirtless, his hair still damp from a shower, and looking entirely too good for someone who almost died yesterday. A towel hangs around his neck, and water droplets trace paths down his chest, his abdomen, and down to his?—
I drag my eyes back to his face. “Pack your things. You’re moving.”
“Good morning to you, too.” He leans against the doorframe like he knows exactly what it does to my pulse, and my mouth goes dry. “Moving where?”
“Somewhere safer. Whoever bombed that convoy knows you’re working with us now. That makes you a target.”
“Or it makes me the bomber.”
“If you were the bomber, you wouldn’t have been close enough to get glass in your hair.” I gesture to the small cuts on his scalp. “Unless you’re suicidal, which doesn’t match your profile.”
“You have a profile on me?”
“Dmitri has a profile on everyone. Are you going to pack, or should I have Boris’ men do it for you?”
Tony glances past me to where two very large Russians wait in the hallway. “I’m guessing they won’t be gentle with my belongings.”
“They won’t be gentle with anything.”
“Fine. Give me ten minutes.” He smiles and closes the door.
I wait in the hallway, ignoring the curious looks from Boris’ men. They don’t ask questions. They just stand there and look intimidating, which is what Dmitri pays them for.
Tony emerges eight minutes later in jeans and a black T-shirt that fits him well enough to be distracting. He carries a laptop case and a duffel bag that looks military-issued.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“I travel light.”
We take the stairs down and exit through the back. The waiting SUV is armored, and the driver is one of Dmitri’s best. We climb into the back seat, and the vehicle pulls away from the hotel before the door is fully closed.
“Where are we going?” Tony asks.
“A building in the financial district. Top floor. Dmitri uses it for high-value assets who need protection.”
Tony lets out a high-pitched whistle. “High-value assets. Is that what I am now?”
“You’re a pain in my ass who might be useful. That’s what you are.”
