She laughed. “You’re really good for a girl’s ego, you know that?”
“Just one of the many services I provide.” He flashed her a grin. “You ready to go work your way close to him at the craps table while I slip off to the bathroom and plant this device? It will be easier for you to get close to him if I’m not with you at first.”
“Okay,” she said. Giving him a smile, she flipped her long, red-gold hair over her shoulder and headed for the table and the man who had almost certainly made the bomb that had killed John.
Trevor followed, then turned toward the back of the club and the security bug he needed to set up. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could get back here and keep an eye on Alina, because suddenly, the idea of leaving her alone anywhere near Shishani didn’t sit well with him.
Chapter 7
Trevor couldn’t believe Alina had been concerned she wouldn’t be able to distract Shishani—and most of the other men around the craps table. All she had to do was smile and laugh at Trevor’s quips, and she had almost every person around looking her way. When Alina turned and ask the table in general why a certain bet had been made, it was insanely simple to step closer to Shishani and slip the drug in his drink.
From that point forward, it was simply a waiting game, though he had to admit he didn’t like the way their suspect kept leaning over to try and engage Alina in conversation. Yeah, she wasn’t really his wife, but Trevor still had a nearly uncontrollable urge to rip the man to shreds. And no, it had nothing to do with being this close to one of the men responsible for John’s death.
He took an almost perverse pleasure in watching Shishani squirm when the drug started kicking in. A minute later, the man excused himself from the table and made a beeline for the bathroom. Alina gave Trevor a questioning look, but he shook his head. Let the guy do his business first. They’d grab him as he was coming out of the bathroom.
Trevor purposely made a lousy bet, then announced he was going to try his hand at roulette, grabbed Alina’s hand, and headed for the nearest table. Halfway there, he veered toward the back of the club instead.
Trevor activated the bug the moment he and Alina stepped into the hallway, and Shishani stepped out of the men’s restroom. Fortunately, there was no one else in the corridor or anywhere nearby, which would make this a whole lot easier.
The man’s eyes lit up when he saw Alina, but then his face took on a confused expression when he saw Trevor, too. The crazy urge to renovate the man’s face reared its ugly head, and it was all Trevor could do not to snarl.
Keeping his inner coyote in check, Trevor walked straight up to the bomber and wrapped his hand around the back of the man’s neck, slinging Shishani face-first into the opposite wall. It wasn’t hard enough to knock the guy out, but it was enough to knock a dent in the sheetrock and send Shishani bouncing backward like a pinball. Alina had the door open by the time Trevor grabbed his arm and shoved him out into the night.
The alley behind the building butted up against a high fence that separated this part of Worchester Street from the train tracks. It was pitch-black and reeked of spoiled food, spilled beer, and nasty Dumpsters. One end of the alley led toward the parking lot, while the other meandered through trash and other junk.
Trevor dragged Shishani a little farther down the alley so no one peeking out of the club would see them. Alina hung back and kept an eye on the door just in case.
He thumped Shishani up against the wall of the building, behind a tall Dumpster that smelled like it was used to store zombie bait for the coming apocalypse, and gave the man a shake.
“Wakey, wakey, Mr. Shishani,” he said. “Time to talk about a bomb you recently made.”
The man’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Trevor in confusion for a moment. Then his eyes went wide.
“I don’t have any money,” he said in a damn good imitation of a Northeast accent. No wonder he’d blended in so easily after coming here from Chechnya.
Trevor wrapped his hand around the man’s neck and lifted him off the ground, holding him pinned to the wall. “Don’t bother pretending you didn’t hear what I said, Mr. Shishani. I’m not buying it.”
Shishani mumbled something that sounded like okay, but with his hand around the guy’s neck, it was hard to tell.
Trevor let the guy slide down the wall. “Talk.”
Shishani threw Alina a desperate look. “Lady, you have to help me. I was just smiling at you. I had no idea your husband was the jealous type. I swear I don’t know who this Shishani guy is you’re looking for. My name is Smith…Doug Smith.”
Trevor growled softly and picked Shishani up by the throat again, holding him there while Alina moved closer.
“You might as well kill him. He’s not going to talk,” she said calmly. “No one will find him for weeks back here. They certainly won’t smell his body, that’s for sure.”
Shishani’s dark eyes widened as Trevor continued to hold him prisoner. When Trevor dropped him this time, the man was much more cooperative.
“What do you want?” Shishani asked. “I don’t even know who you are. I haven’t done anything to you.”
“You didn’t do anything to me, but you did do something to a friend of mine,” Trevor growled. “You built a bomb that killed a federal agent near Quantico a month ago. I want to know who paid you.”
The man’s eyes bulged as he shook his head. “I can’t talk about that. It would get me killed.”
Trevor tightened his grip on the man’s throat again but didn’t lift him off the ground this time. Beside him, Alina made a show of looking down at her shoes like she was worried she was getting something nasty on them.
