Page 66 of Vienna Bargain

“I am under not obligation to check in with my contact, who, by the way, isn’t you. I want Agent deGaul on the line, right now.” She pointed at each of the people arrayed in front of her. “You all ready to roll the dice and side with Rolf?”

“Agent Pedersen,” Rolf said softly.

“I think I’ll stick with Rolf.”

For a moment Alexander tuned out her back-and-forth with the Interpol agent. If she was bluffing, it was a masterful performance. Both her mention of dice and his own use of the term bluff reminding him of what she’d said in his office.

Alexander, it isn’t a game.

When he’d caught her back in Vienna he’d been sure he knew what was a truth and what was a lie. Everything about her had been a lie, and his own position as the injured party was an irrefutable truth.

That surety was gone now.

He’d a dozen questions about her revelation even before the raid. Now…now he wasn’t even sure where he should start an inquiry, if he were given an opportunity.

Agent Pedersen turned and said something in French to the agents beside him. Both stripped off their helmets and heavy tactical gloves, setting them aside. The first, a black woman, left the room, while the second, a woman with pale gold hair pulled low in a bun, plucked a knife from a small compartment on her vest and walked over to them.

She freed Ruslan and Finn first, then him and finally Jakob.

He rubbed his wrists and then climbed to his feet. Jakob jumped up and positioned himself at Alexander’s left side.

“Take care of the others,” Alexander said softly.

“I am a medic.” The black woman, now carrying a bright red duffel, walked passed him to the couch where the blonde had positioned the RTW men in need of medical care.

“I stay with you,” Jakob said.

Alena had half turned to watch all this happen, while still standing in the no-man’s-land between himself and Rolf Pedersen.

She took a few steps towards the couch, watched for a moment as the two agents helped Ruslan and Finn.

Then Alena turned and walked over to stand beside him, on his right.

Alexander frozen, his breath still in his chest. The cynical part of him wanted to declare this another ploy of some kind, another move in what she’d told him was, to her, a game.

Her fingers tentatively brushed the back of his hand, and Alexander’s breath released in a rush of air.

He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. She squeezed tight.

Rolf looked at them. The other man’s gaze jumped from their hands to the scarf around Alena’s neck. the scarf that hid the collar Alexander had locked on her.

Rolf was looking at her, at them as if he knew what was under the thin piece of silk.

Alexander now knew why Rolf looked familiar. “Shit.”

“Recognize him?” Alena whispered.

“He was in Vienna.”

“Yes. The question is, was he at the club to watching you, or me?”

Alena stalked out of the ground floor parlor, which Rolf had taken over as a temporary command post. The agents who’d come with them had been given rooms in the Vatican wing of the house.

Ruslan, whose eyes were still puffy and red despite a milk bath, had spoken with the household staff. She hadn’t overheard what he said, what possible explanation he could have given that would make them accept that the people who’d only hours ago broken into the house and taken them prisoner were now to be treated as guests.

Alena walked briskly towards the stairs. Half way up she realized she had no idea where she was going. The second floor of this wing had the sitting room whose windows and French doors had been destroyed by Rolf’s overzealous morons, the gallery, and off of that Alexander’s office.

The room she’d used to shower, the room where her ransacked luggage was waiting, was in a completely different wing, and she had no confidence in her ability to navigate the twisting innards of the villa to find it again.

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