Page 6 of Seek Him Like Shelter

I made my rounds for a little while longer, grabbing some cold pasta and meatballs, then made my way back out so I could grab a few winks before I got up to keep up my vigil.

It was a daily struggle to try to figure out which member of the organization to follow. I’d chosen to go with one of the enforcers for a change, deciding that the bosses had gotten enough of my attention, and maybe I was doing myself a disservice by only focusing on the higher-ups in the organization.

They drove out of their usual neighborhood, taking off to a much nicer area full of high-rise business buildings, all gleaming glass and smart-looking people walking around in suits and expensive jewelry.

If I was remembering correctly, this area was in one of the other capos’ turf, selling cocaine to the few handfuls of people who could afford that shit.

Most of us never had any reason to be in this area.

Which made me wonder what the fuck a Bratva enforcer was doing around here, hanging in their car like they were waiting for someone.

But they hadn’t moved in hours.

I was parked in the opposite direction, a few cars back, looking like I was reading a newspaper and possibly waiting to escort my boss to their next meeting. I wasn’t the only one, so I didn’t seem to stand out to them.

I was thankful for my good optical genes, and the fact that the sun was hidden behind moody clouds, as I sat there, being able to see in their windshield, seeing what they were doing.

Which was watching the building just a few yards ahead of me.

They were waiting for someone.

But who?

And why?

My gaze shifted to the building, wondering what kind of businesses could be found inside. I was about to reach for my phone to figure that out when I saw the door push open, and a woman moved outside, a phone pressed to her ear.

Whoever she was talking to was clearly chewing her out, judging by the way she was running a hand through her wavy blonde hair, how her head was tipped back, looking at the sky, and only managing to seem to squeeze in one-word answers here and there.

She was gorgeous, tall and long-legged, wearing a pair of high-waisted dress shorts in a khaki color and a white ribbed tank top, looking effortlessly put together but also comfortable. On her feet, she had a pair of tan leather pointed flat shoes with gold buckles. A giant matching bag was hoisted up on her shoulder.

Half of her face was hidden by giant black sunglasses, but I made out a square jaw and a small, straight nose.

I had this oddly strong urge to go out there and remove the sunglasses, so I could see her whole face.

She turned back toward the door, like she was about to go back in, so my gaze slid back to the Russians.

And found they’d rolled down the window.

And they were looking at the building intently as the driver shuffled with something in his lap.

I looked back, finding the woman decided against going back in. She had her phone held to her ear still, but she was starting to move away from the building.

My gaze cut back to the enforcer.

Finding him zeroed in on the woman as he turned in his seat.

There was no reason to assume the worst.

Maybe he just thought she was pretty, wanted to watch her walk away.

Or perhaps he even needed to snap some pictures of her for his boss.

But the hairs were standing up on the back of my neck, every instinct in my body telling me something was about to go horribly wrong.

My hand went to the gear shift without me realizing the thought even crossed my mind, shifting into reverse as I checked my mirrors.

Traffic was light as I slowly inched my way out of my parking spot. I was in the road finally when my gaze slid back to the enforcer.

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