Page 10 of France Face-Off
He raised his eyebrows. “No?”
“You seem too cocky and sure of yourself to be relaxed.”
“From what I understand, ranching is not a relaxing occupation. If I work during my good years and save enough money, maybe I can afford to have somebody else do the ranching for me. I can enjoy my time with my children and my wife.”
“And you already have these children and a wife?”
“No,” he said with a shrug. “But maybe someday.”
Her stomach fluttered. She could imagine being the wife of this man, who was cocky and sure of himself. She wondered if he would be the same in the bedroom. Heat coiled low in her belly. She stepped away from him as a natural reaction to keep from being burned. “Well, Daniel, I wish you well on your ranch with your wife and children. It wasn’t a pleasure to meet you, but I do wish you luck in your profession,” she said, emphasizing the word.
He chuckled. “And I wish you luck in yours, as long as it doesn’t include assassinating Russian diplomats.”
She kept a poker face and pasted a smile on her lips. “I’ll do my best not to…unless they deserve it.”
He laughed out loud. “In which case, perhaps we should warn the Russian government you’re on to them.”
She almost hated leaving the man. He tempted her and kept her on her toes. She would do well to keep an eye on him during the course of the two-day event. She still wasn’t convinced he was just an escort. The man’s moves were fluid. He’d handled her like a trained combatant. His big hands, firm on her wrists, and his broad, muscled shoulders were clear evidence of a life of discipline and training.
“I suspect we’ll meet again,” he said.
“Perhaps,” she said, and moved away from him.
As she stepped out into the reception hall, she heard a scream. Alex automatically ducked.
Daniel grabbed her around the waist, pulled her behind a wide column and then leaned out to view the crowd on the reception hall floor.
Alex ducked beneath his arm so that she might see as well. “What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “They’re gathered around someone on the floor.”
“Well, we can’t find out who it is unless we get out there with them.” Alex pushed past Daniel.
Daniel gripped her hand and hurried into the melee with her.
Some guests scattered, while others gathered around. A couple of the security guards pushed their way through the diplomats. The crowd parted as the guards reached the center.
Alex’s breath caught when she identified the man lying on the floor.
Petrov lay with his hand clutched to his chest, blood oozing from between his fingers.
“Looks like someone got the job done,” Daniel said beside her.
“Apparently not,” Alex drawled. “He’s still alive.” She spotted Sergei Baranovsky and pushed her way through the crowd to him.
Daniel followed close behind.
When she reached the Russian, she spoke in his language. “What happened?”
“I was on my way out the door when I remembered I needed to talk to Anatoly. He was just coming in from the garden and headed toward the bar to get a drink when a group of people moved between us. A moment later, he was on the floor. Apparently, someone stabbed him.”
In that moment, Alex was glad Daniel had her knife in his pocket. If they’d found it on her, she would’ve been hauled off to some French police station and held for questioning throughout the rest of the Energy Summit.
“Look,” Sergei said, “he’s getting up.”
Petrov reached a hand up to one of the security guards.
The guard shook his head.
