Page 31 of Wicked Ambition

“My wife just arrived from the States. You haven’t met.” Oz’s voice was even less friendly, and there was a hard look on his face, one she hadn’t seen since he rescued her in the hotel room. Was this woman a threat? Ayla tensed.

“Ah, well,” the brunette said calmly, completely unaffected by Oz’s tone, “perhaps I am mistaken then. I must be thinking of someone else.”

This woman could have met Iona. She leaned toward Oz, widening her eyes and giving him her best don’t-let-her-get-away stare. He ignored it and she shifted, ready to chase after her. His hand came out, his fingers circling her wrist and holding her in place. His grip didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t tug free. Ayla scowled.

“Hang tight, Pollita,” he said.

“But—”

“No. Not now. Trust me.”

As if she had a choice. Ayla huffed out a long breath and upped the wattage of her glare at Oz as she watched the woman deposit her waste in the trash can, gather her packages, and walk out the door. What was he doing? She was leaving!

“Sit quietly,” he ordered, and for the first time there was some harshness directed at her. “The Russians are watching you, and your reaction made them curious.”

Ayla’s eyes widened again, but this time it was with realization. She hadn’t thought of that. They were out of her sight, and she’d gotten so excited that the woman might know something about Io that she’d forgotten about them. “Sorry,” she whispered, giving him an apologetic look. She should have trusted him. He’d done nothing except help her since she arrived.

Oz released her wrist and picked up his sandwich. There wasn’t much remaining, and when he finished, they’d have to leave the café. Suddenly, passing by the mobsters’ table to get to the door seemed terrifying. Ayla worked on regaining control. To find Io, she had to walk out of here and she wasn’t letting her fear stand in the way of helping her sister.

Baggs finished eating. He and Oz began making some small, almost unnoticeable hand gestures, and then Baggs gathered their garbage on the tray. Oz passed him everything except his last piece of sandwich. Ayla turned her head just far enough to watch him casually saunter to deposit their trash in the bin, and then he headed out the door.

“Where’s he going?” she asked.

“Trust me,” Oz repeated.

Ayla nodded. Those hand gestures might have been a way for the two men to communicate. They must have planned Baggs leaving early because Oz showed no signs of surprise or dismay. Or was she making assumptions because he asked her to put her faith in him? She hadn’t earlier and she might have messed things up, so no matter how difficult it was, she would trust him.

Oz finished his sandwich, wiped his hand off on his napkin, and wadded it up, holding it in his left hand. “Okay, Pollita,” he said quietly, “we’re walking to the exit. I’m going to pause briefly to throw the napkin in the trash and see how the dudes respond to us leaving. They didn’t care when Baggs walked out the door, but you might be a different story.”

Ayla nodded.

“Once we hit the sidewalk, we’re turning left. I want you to keep moving no matter what happens. If that changes, I’ll tell you so. Understood?”

“Understood,” she echoed, voice thick. Ayla cleared her throat, but fear choked her.

Oz stood and held her chair for her. The gesture was polite, but he put his body between her and the mobsters, giving Ayla the sense it had more to do with protecting her than proper manners.

Her legs felt shaky, but she walked beside him to the trash bin. As he told her, they paused while he tossed his napkin, and though it was tempting to check on the Russians herself, she kept her gaze on the door. Ayla had to trust him with her safety. She had to trust him to find Io. She couldn’t do this alone.

Left hand at her back, he steered her toward the door, opened it, and urged her outside. “Let’s move, Pollita. Walk, don’t run.”

“What’s happening?” she asked, even as she followed orders.

“The Russians were getting ready to leave as soon as they saw us head for the door. If we make it a block before they’re on our asses, I’ll be surprised.”

Ayla wanted to believe it was a coincidence, but from Oz’s tone of voice, it was clear he thought it was deliberate. The mobsters were following them, and it was all her fault.

Chapter 13

Oz believed in playing things safe. He liked having contingency plans to his contingency plans. It was how he’d survived. The odds of running into any of Petrova’s men in the shopping district should have been low. There should have been next to no risk for Ayla. And what happened? A pair of flunkies stroll into the same café that they chose for lunch. Better yet, it looked as if the men were going to follow them. Fucking great.

Ayla went from tense to anxious. He wanted to say something to calm her, but he wasn’t sure what would do it. Things he thought weren’t a big deal ramped her up. Then there was the fact that if he tried to talk her down, the Russians might overhear something. That was all he needed.

He didn’t think Petrova’s men suspected who she was. Not yet. But shehadraised their curiosity.

Guiding her to the door, he kept a hand at her elbow until she took the step down from the restaurant to the pavement. Once he was sure she was steady, Oz released her. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, and Ayla scrambled his brain. She had since he spotted her in the hotel bar in Los Angeles. Not having full control of himself irritated him.

Shaking off the memory, he focused on the present. It was natural to do a visual sweep of the area.

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