Page 5 of Vienna Bargain

“Consulting on what?”

“That we don't know, sir.”

“Find out.”

“We will. As I said, we're reaching out to colleagues who should be able to access her financial information, and based on that we will know who paid her, and therefore extrapolate what she was paid to do. We also have a contact in SCIP, who can tell us if she’s a member.”

He’d heard of SCIP—Strategic and Competitive Intelligence Professionals. It was supposedly a world-wide organization—a non-profit of all ridiculous things—but primarily American.

“Find out if she works for the U.S. government.”

Fischer hesitated. “If she's employed by the C.I.A., it will take more than trading favors with an American colleague to access that information.”

“Find. Out.”

Alexander turned away, aware that his terse statements, and probably unreasonable demands, weren’t helping. Nor was the fact that he was still in his pajamas.

Her red pashmina lay on the table.

The urge to go to her, to check on her, was nearly overwhelming. He squashed it, even as he grabbed the scarf.

He needed to be dressed. He needed his cellphone.

He needed to find that burning cold anger once more, let it take the reins before his stupid heart made him do something idiotic—like demand the security team focus on her comfort rather than keeping her securely in custody.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

Fischer nodded, and Alexander stalked from the room. He took the stairs two at a time, and was breathing heavily by the time he reached his floor. He glanced back, wondering if he should run the stairs a few more times, let physical exertion work off some of the excess emotions.

No, that was a crutch. He would master his emotions, and deal with Alena—Magdalena—as if she were a stranger.

Not just a stranger. An adversary.

She was the enemy, and he would treat her appropriately.

Chapter 2

She was losing this round.

Alena twisted her wrists, and the guard cleared his throat. When she looked up, he shook his head. If he’d left her alone she was fairly certain she could get out of the zip tie cuffs, though they were the wider kind used by law enforcement rather than the narrower ones common in home improvement stores.

Alena grinned at him, showing teeth, then sat back.

The storage closet was as nondescript as a the title suggested, though the metal shelving on either side of her had been cleared of boxes of cleaning and office supplies. She supposed it was a compliment that they thought she was dangerous enough that she might be able to use a box of copier toner to escape.

Alena tapped her fingers against the arms of the chair.

She was that dangerous combination of scared and bored. Boredom had set in about half an hour ago, while fear had been her companion for hours.

No, she’d been afraid longer than that.

She’d been afraid since that first night with Alexander, when she realized what explosive chemistry they had.

She’d been afraid of her own feelings. Afraid of what she’d do when she walked away from him. Afraid of saying goodbye.

Her current situation wasn’t complete worst-case scenario, but it was damnably close.

“What if I need to use the bathroom?” Alena asked her guard in German. The big man, wearing what looked like riot gear, complete with helmet, had his back to the door, his body a physical barrier to her escape, as if being zip-tied to a chair wasn’t enough.

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