Chapter 13
ONE HEARTBEAT AWAY FROM KILLING
Anyone find anything? Kyle asked through the mental links tying the team together. Because I haven’t.
Nothing, Katie replied.
Find nothing, too, Alexei added.
Unless Cillian hid the bombs in some of the larger artworks, I’m not seeing where they could be in the wings marked off for the gala, Sean said.
Which means they could be on the upper floors. Only the first three floors are open for the gala, Annabelle said.
Not good planning. Who they hit if no one up there? Alexei asked derisively.
Kyle snagged a pastry puff off a floating tray and popped it into his mouth, chewing angrily as he stared at vases lining the wall behind glass cases while he waited his turn in line for a drink.
He was one floor up and several galleries over from where he’d left Jamie, who had basically given him free rein by turning him loose.
Kyle didn’t want to waste any time searching, but he couldn’t be obvious about it.
So he’d stopped to stare at several crafts exhibits and displays as he moved through the museum, but goddamn, art was boring.
We need to find these damn bombs. Otherwise—
“I honestly didn’t expect to see you here,” a smooth, Russian-accented voice said from behind him, derailing his thoughts.
“Jamie never did properly introduce you last Saturday. Here I thought you were merely a plaything that knew how to keep his mouth shut, not a companion worth a night out like this. You clean up nice, but this venue isn’t quite your scene. ”
Kyle couldn’t quite stop his shoulders from stiffening at the veiled insult.
He swallowed his bite of food, trying not to choke on it.
Wiping the back of one hand across his mouth probably added to Oksana’s opinion of his lower-class status, but Kyle didn’t care.
This was the role he was playing, he reminded himself.
Jamie’s version of slumming it.
“I don’t think you run high enough in Jamie’s social circles to know where he takes me,” Kyle replied as he turned to face Oksana. “And my name is Kyle.”
Oksana arched one perfectly shaped brow. “I know. We looked you up after the club.”
“If you knew, then you didn’t need to ask.”
“I’m a woman who likes confirmation of details.”
Oksana wore an ice-blue dress that Kyle assumed was vintage or couture or whatever word people used for fashion.
Kyle wouldn’t know; he’d worn a uniform for half his life.
That was the least fashionable one could get.
What surprised him wasn’t her outfit, which was pretty, if one liked high enough slits that it was obvious she wasn’t wearing underwear.
No, what caught his attention was she’d dyed her hair from brown to blonde, the color teasing his memory, but he couldn’t dwell on that just yet.
Oksana hadn’t changed her eye color, though she was still escorted by the pair of Presnenskaya Bratva members from last weekend, their tattoos hidden beneath precise tailoring. The two men stood behind Oksana, a solid presence impossible to miss, much like how Madison stood behind Kyle.
“Men like Jamie Callahan get tired of having the same people in their bed night after night. I suppose he pays you well?” Oksana asked before curving her lips over the rim of her champagne glass to take a sip.
Her question was just loud enough to draw the attention of a few nearby people, most of whom weren’t shy about watching the drama unfold.
“He doesn’t,” Kyle replied coldly. “Pay me at all, that is.”
“Interesting. I’d believe blackmail was in play, but you don’t strike me as a man with any worth.”
Kyle tucked his hands into his pant pockets, bunching up the hem of his tuxedo jacket.
He had to fight to keep his expression from slipping into the cold, focused mask Alexei had dubbed years ago as his resting sniper face.
Apparently, it tipped people off that he could fuck them up without breaking a sweat, and while his background for this mission said he was supposed to be a Marine, not Strike Force, Kyle’s role was supposed to be that of a kept man now, not a killer.
“You don’t know me at all, Oksana.”
She shrugged off his words. “I know enough. Other than honorable discharge and an investigation into your relationship with your commanding officer, which the Marines found no evidence of, and yet, Jamie has no issues parading you about after the fact.”
“We’re no longer in the Marines.”
“So my research discovered.”
Kyle cocked his head to the side, staring at her, memorizing the features of her face in the museum lighting that was much brighter than the club, but it wasn’t daylight. It wasn’t midday sun shining through a sniper’s scope on a city street.
Kyle was really regretting not carrying a gun with him.
“Do you always dig deep into potential business partners?” Kyle wanted to know.
Oksana flipped a curl over her shoulder, putting the deep neckline of her gown on full display.
If Kyle liked women at all, he’d probably be interested in seeing her like this.
But he didn’t, so her little show was more annoying than anything else because it was keeping him from getting a goddamn drink to cover up the fact he was looking for explosives.
“Security is my job, much in the vein of the company your friends run. Jamie Callahan is an interesting man, who is friends with interesting people, and who comes from an interesting family. You can learn a lot about a man by the people he surrounds himself with. I’m curious to know what he sees in someone as unrefined as yourself. ”
“I call him out when he’s being an asshole. He seems to appreciate that.”
Oksana laughed a little condescendingly at his answer. “Very few in his position do. I doubt his appreciation will last long.”
“I don’t know, it’s been two years since we were discharged. I highly doubt he’ll change his mind. If Jamie didn’t want me, then I wouldn’t be here.”
“I’m glad to see you understand your place. I’m sure Jamie will come to learn his in time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kyle asked sharply.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Oksana tipped her head in his direction as she turned away. “I really must be going now. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, Kyle. Da svidanya.”
Kyle watched her walk away and disappear into the crowd, aware of the people around him not bothering to hide their curiosity.
Kyle knew Oksana had calculated this quick little meeting to insult him.
Why, he didn’t know. And while some of her words had hit a little too close to home, Kyle only had to remember what Jamie had said.
They were playing a role. It wasn’t the truth of what they were.
“Wow,” Madison said in a low voice. “What a bitch.”
Kyle snorted out a laugh. “Yeah. What a bitch.”
He turned around to face Madison, right as a server walked a little too close.
Not wanting to get hit in the face by several of the floating trays orbiting the server’s body, Kyle took a step back and ended up bumping into someone behind him.
Usually, he knew where everyone else was in relation to himself, but Oksana’s comments seemed to have thrown a wrench into his spatial awareness.
“Shit!” Kyle exclaimed, going for chagrined embarrassment because it fit his persona. “Sorry!”
“You fucking arsehole, look what you’ve done!” the heavyset man in question snarled, gesturing at the vest and white dress shirt he wore now stained with red wine.
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t see where I was going.”
“Obviously.”
Madison produced a small linen napkin from somewhere—probably stolen from a server—and stepped forward to offer it to the man.
“Mr. Brannigan is terribly sorry for accidentally ruining your clothes for the evening. He’ll be happy to pay the price of your dry cleaning if you provide your contact information. ”
The man snatched the napkin from her hand and started dabbing at his chest with frantic motions while his wife patted him gently on the arm in a comforting manner. “It’s not the clothes I’m worried about!”
“Your reputation will be fine, dear,” his wife absently said.
The man scowled, still muttering as he tried to soak up some of the wine stain. His hands were shaking through the motions, and Kyle hoped the guy wasn’t going to try to start a fight out of anger. Kyle would really hate to have to pay for his medical bills on top of his dry cleaning.
Madison went stiff in an instant, her utter stillness making Kyle take a step closer.
“Sir,” Madison said in an icy, polite voice. “I think we should get some water on that stain.”
“Your suggestion is not wanted nor—”
“Sir.” Madison stepped closer, teeth bared in a hard smile as she caught the man’s gaze, pinning him with a look that had him freezing where he stood. “Let’s go clean your clothes. Now.”
The man’s eyes flickered to the side, a panicked tell that had Kyle looking more intently at the stranger.
Tall, more heavyset than broad, with a tuxedo that should have been tailored a little better, judging by the amount of jewelry he wore.
If he could afford thick gold rings embedded with diamonds and emeralds, then he could afford a damn tailor.
Kyle narrowed his eyes, watching the way the fabric of his vest pulled when he breathed, the way the textured fabric bunched over something underneath.
Madison? Kyle asked harshly.
I need a better look, but yes, I think so, she sent back.
Guys? Katie asked, their tense exchange drawing her attention.
Give us a minute.
Kyle stepped closer, hiding the snap of his wrist that released a ceramic knife into his palm with a turn of his body. He flattened his fingers against the blade, tucking it against the man’s side, hiding the threat in a gesture of apologetic concern.
“Let’s find the bathroom, shall we?” Kyle asked around a smile that was all teeth.
The fact that the man knew what a blade felt like when it pressed up against his kidney, even through his bulk, told Kyle he wasn’t on the up and up at all.