Before, I could use my youth to hide along the walls or duck behind the staff as a sort of camouflage since no one ever looks at the uniformed men and women walking among them.
Now I’m front and center while everyone whips around to inspect the newest intrigue.
“Okay, Ken Barlow. How about a little less intimidation and a little more charm?” I herd Kirill deeper into the crowd, one hand clamped to his arm like a leash. “Stop scanning the exits. People will start to think you’re casing the place.”
Kirill tenses beneath my grip before huffing an annoyed breath. “So bossy. And Iamcasing the place.”
I squeeze his arm. “I’m serious,” I mumble out of the corner of my mouth. “You can look at people, but don’t look for too long. Glance away before returning to them. And for heaven’s sake, don’t forget to blink.”
“If you keep giving me orders like that, I’ll start casing the joint for a quiet corner where I can bend you over.”
I nearly choke on my own spit. “Shut up, shark.”
He replies by quirking his lips.
His public-facing smile still requires some practice, but I appreciate the attempt.
He needs this to work, and part of me knows it’s not just to get access to the safe.
He wants to follow my instructions. Partner with me.
If only he believed in energy cleansing. This would have been so much easier.
I attempt to throw him a bone he’ll understand. “Same with the security guys. You’re freaking them out.”
One of the guards by the entrance is already zeroing in.
Kirill dips his chin.Message received.
I nod toward a tray drifting past on a server’s hand. “Pretend you’re enjoying the tiny salmon thing.”
He ignores the tiny salmon thing.
So do I, for that matter.
But beneath the surface, I sense a shift.
Without warning, he starts steering me with invisible pressure toward a shadowed alcove beside a service door. Agood defensive position. With his back to the wall, he can see the entrance and the stairs. Classic Kirill.
I dig in my heels.
He stiffens, his muscles tautening and coiling for violence beneath my touch.
“No.” I lean into him. “We’re not hiding in the shadows. We’re going out there. You’re my cover.”
His jaw tics with disbelief, or maybe annoyance.
He struggles with my directive, because it’s not his way, before he yields. Then he gives one curt nod and falls in beside me.
For the first time, I realize he’s not a weapon tonight. He’s a guest. At most, a shield.
And he’s having a tough time handling the change.
For a brief moment, guilt stabs at my chest. He shouldn’t have to pretend to be something he’s not.
I hate that I’ve dragged him into this world. I wish we could both run right out that door and never return.
But neither of us have the luxury of getting what we want right now.
