Page 5 of Tracking Shadows
The door swings open, and I spot him immediately. He’s taller than I expected, with that easy confidence that comes from someone who thinks they can talk their way out of anything. He doesn’t belong here, and it shows—he’s too clean, too put together. But what catches me off guard, just for a second, is how damn pretty he is. Not in a way that matters, of course, but it’s enough to make me wonder if Dmitri’s playing some kind of sick joke on me.
He scans the room, and when his eyes land on me, there’s a flicker of something in them—surprise, maybe, or amusement. Whatever it is, it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a grin that’s allcharm and no substance. He walks over, sliding into the booth across from me with a kind of lazy grace that grates on my nerves.
“Mind if I join you?” He nods toward the empty seat, as if I haven’t been waiting for him to show up.
I exhale a stream of smoke, meeting his gaze with the kind of cold indifference I’ve perfected over the years. I don’t have time for small talk or whatever game he thinks we’re playing. “You’re late.”
His grin widens, like he finds that amusing. “Fashionably, I hope.”
“Not the impression you want to make.” I stub out my cigarette, already feeling the tension in my jaw. I can’t tell if he’s cocky, stupid, or both.
He leans back, unbothered by my irritation. “Fair enough. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know. Dmitri says you’re the best.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” I cross my arms, studying him for a beat longer. He’s got that look in his eye, the kind that says he’s used to getting his way with a smile and a wink. That’s not going to work on me.
“I’m not here to flatter you, Irina. I’m here to work together.”
I almost laugh at that. “Work together? Is that what you call this?”
“Call it whatever you want. We’re in this together, whether we like it or not.”
I don’t like it. Not one bit. But Dmitri’s orders are clear, and as much as I hate the idea of working with someone like Alexei, I know better than to disobey. Still, I need to know what kind of person I’m dealing with, and I’m not convinced yet.
“Let’s get something straight,” I say, leaning forward, my voice low and sharp. “I don’t trust you. I don’t know you. And until you prove yourself, you’re nothing more than a liability to me.”
He doesn’t flinch, just tilts his head slightly, considering my words. “Fair enough. But you should know, I don’t trust easily either.”
I raise an eyebrow, not expecting that. Maybe he’s not as soft as he looks.
“Good. Then let’s get to work.” I push the file across the table toward him, the one I’ve been going over for hours. “Our first target is a local contact. Sergei’s men frequent this place, and if anyone knows where he’s holed up, it’ll be them.”
He flips open the file, scanning the contents with a quick, practiced eye. “What’s the plan?”
“Direct approach,” I say, the words clipped. “We go in, find the guy, and make him talk.”
Alexei looks up, meeting my gaze with that irritating confidence again. “Make him talk? You mean rough him up?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
He closes the file, leaning back in his seat as if he’s about to say something I won’t like. “That’s one way to do it. But it might be better to try talking to him first. You know, see if we can get the information without breaking his nose. We'll have a target on our back if we do this to everyone we meet.”
I narrow my eyes, not liking where this is going. “Talking won’t get us anywhere. These men don’t respond to kindness.”
“They might respond to something better than a beating.”
“Like what?”
“Like money. Or fear. Or making them think they’ve got something to gain by cooperating.”
I stare at him, the urge to tell him exactly where he can shove his suggestions nearly overwhelming. “You’re naive if you think they’ll just hand over what we need.”
“And you’re stubborn if you think brute force is the only way to get results.” His tone is still light, but there’s an edge to it now, something darker beneath the surface.
The tension between us sharpens, the air around us thick with it. I’ve worked with plenty of men who thought they knew better, but there’s something different about Alexei. Something that makes me hesitate, just for a second. He’s got a point, even if I don’t want to admit it.
Still, this isn’t the time to coddle our contacts. We’re running out of time, and I’m not about to let his idealism get in the way of what needs to be done.
“Fine,” I say, standing up and grabbing my jacket. “You want to try playing nice? Go ahead. But when that fails, we do it my way.”