“At least there’s that,” Em sighs, then holds out her phone to me. “What do you think about this for a beach cover-up? They didn’t have it in the store, but they said they could order it for me.”
On the screen is a light coral dress with a playful diagonal ruffle.
“Perfect,” I reply, then look at her, forcing a bright smile.
I can still feel the prickle on the back of my neck from wherever he is, and I wish it weren’t quite so chilling.
29
DMITRI
Still have eyes on her.
The text says very little, and yet, it says everything I need to know. Clara is being watched over by one of my men. One of my best. And that means I know she is safe, and I can finally pull my mind from her and focus on what’s going on in front of me.
I’m parked across the street from a coffee shop tucked between a bank and a dry cleaner. From this distance, through the dark glass of the SUV, everything is muted, slow, and precise.
“Target is in motion. Heading toward the coffee shop.”
Pavel’s voice, calm andclinical, echoes in my ear. I can’t see him from where I am, closer to thecafé.
Right on cue, Mark Palmer appears around the corner, wearing a puffy vest instead of a coat despite the biting wind and temperatures that hover just around freezing. From my vantage point, he looks miserable, squinting behind cloudy glasses, his nose and cheeks bright red, his hair a wind-whipped rat’s nest.
Hehustlesalong the crowded sidewalk, his shoulders hunched, before he drags his hands out of the vest and tugs open the coffee shop door.
“Target in sight,”Pavel whispers in my ear.“Monitoring.”
I wait, counting the seconds, the stillness in my chest absolute. This is it; this is the moment the connections snap into place.
Or not.
I try to follow the paralegal’s tall figure through the coffee shop, but between the lights, the swags of fake evergreen, and the chalk drawings of hills of snow and waving snowmen on the glass there are too many decorations to get a clear view.
“He’s heading to the back; it appears he’s looking for someone.”
It’s difficult to hear Pavel with the din of chatter, coffee machinery, and too-cheerful holiday music behind him. I’m barely breathing as I wait to hear the confirmation we need.
“Target has found a table. Sitting with someone in a ball cap.”
“Can you see his face?” My question is strained with tension, my honed hunting instincts boiling up until I can barely contain myself from joining in the hunt.
“Not yet.”
We may have to split up and follow each one. The bastard could just be meeting with a friend, instead of passing off information about my company and mybratva, but we need to be sure.
“They’re talking, but I can’t hear anything.”
Mark Palmer might be reckless, but he’s not stupid. Far from it, if he is, indeed, the mole and kept himself hidden for so long.Meeting at a busy coffee shop during the holiday rush ensures no one listening in will be able to hear much. A smart move.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Pavel doesn’t say a word for the next few minutes. I drum at the steering wheel with pent-up energy, my entire bodytautas a guitar string ready to snap.
“He just handed the guy something.”
