Secured By The Seal. Carol Ericson

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       Chapter Two

      Alexei clenched his jaw, stamping out the surprise from his face. He’d never expected that cute blonde American waitress to be hiding beneath Sergei’s desk.

      She obviously didn’t have the same need to school the surprise from her face, and her big eyes got rounder and her jaw dropped.

      He’d better be the one to gain control of this situation and go on the offensive. He tucked his weapon into the back of his waistband. “What are you doing in here?”

      “I—I...” She ran a hand through her blond hair, and then she snapped her mouth closed and narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here? At least I work here.”

      He couldn’t bluff the previously giggly, apologetic waitress so easily, so he let his lashes fall half-mast over his eyes and growled, “How do you know I don’t work here?”

      She flinched, and he felt a stab of guilt. He’d laid it on too thick.

      “I was just... I don’t have a place to stay, and I thought I could crash at the bar for a few nights.”

      The back door of the club scraped open, and Alexei lunged for the office door and pulled it closed.

      The waitress hissed at him. “It’s not going to lock.”

      He put his finger to his lips as he took a step forward. Placing both hands on the waitress’s shoulders, he pushed down, urging her back beneath the desk.

      She scrambled for cover.

      Alexei pulled out his weapon. Coiling his muscles, he flattened his body on the other side of the door and waited. If the door wouldn’t lock, he’d better be ready for whoever came through it.

      A man’s footsteps thumped against the carpet and then scuffed on the wood floor in the bar area. The footsteps seemed to recede or had stopped altogether. Soft clinking noises carried down the hallway, and then a few minutes later the man’s boots clumped on the wood again and were muffled by the carpet as he walked toward the office.

      Alexei watched the door handle, his hand wrapped around the barrel of his gun, ready to strike. The steps carried on. The back door opened and shut.

      The woman beneath the desk sighed and whispered, “Is it safe to come out now?”

      “For now, unless he comes back in.”

      She crawled from beneath the desk and brushed off her short black skirt as Alexei averted his gaze from the smooth expanse of her thigh.

      Wedging her hands on her hips, she said, “You don’t work here.”

      “Maybe not, but Sergei’s not going to be happy when he finds out you were searching his office.”

      “You can’t tell him that without revealing you broke into the club.” She jutted out her chin and crossed her arms, daring him.

      “An anonymous phone call would do the trick. He’s a suspicious guy.”

      She tossed her head, flicking a swath of hair over her shoulder. “I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me. I don’t care why you broke in here tonight, but I’m not going to be blamed if you decide to rob the place.”

      “That’s where we differ.” He raised one eyebrow. “I do care why you’re here after hours, and don’t give me that story about needing a place to stay. You didn’t need to be in Sergei’s office for that.”

      “I—I thought he might have a couch in here.”

      Alexei held up his hand. “Save it. You do realize we’re both on camera, don’t you?”

      “Where?” The waitress widened her eyes and cranked her head back and forth. “How?”

      “I’m not sure where all the cameras are, but he has one in that corner.” He pointed to a camera perched on top of a tall bookshelf. “He probably has one at the back door, too.”

      “Then we’re both in trouble if Sergei decides to review the footage.” She twisted her fingers in front of her. “I can’t lose this job.”

      Alexei tilted his head, his gaze sweeping the woman from head to toe. Why did she care so much about a job as a cocktail waitress in a dumpy topless bar in Hollywood—or did she care about being in this club specifically? If so, he needed to find out why.

      “I have no intention of either of us being caught.” Alexei pulled his phone from his pocket and accessed the club’s video files that his friend at the CIA had hacked for him. A few taps later, he accessed the night’s footage. He paused it as an African American man used a key to get through the back door.

      “This is the guy who was just in here.” He held out the phone for the woman. “Do you recognize him?”

      She nodded. “That’s Jerome Carter, one of the bartenders. How did you get—”

      “Never mind.” Alexei tapped into a different camera and dragged his finger along the counter until Jerome appeared at the bar. “What do you think he’s doing?”

      Leaning in, her hair tickling the back of his hand, the waitress squinted at the display. “He’s doing something behind the bar. The camera isn’t picking it up.”

      “Do you think he’s stealing something?” He jabbed his finger at the screen of his phone. “Looks like he’s shoving something in his pocket, but that might be his phone.”

      “If Jerome has keys to the bar...and Sergei’s office, I’m pretty sure he knows about the security cameras.” She circled her finger above his phone. СКАЧАТЬ