Page 11 of Mercenary Princess

Jean-Luc could still discover the bug when he took off the coat, if it was still there. It was so tiny that she doubted it, but until they had the equipment back, she would be on edge. Jean Luc’s valet sent out the minister’s highly expensive suits to a special private cleaner. The device would be covertly removed while en route to the cleaner during the early hours of the morning by the driver they’d put in place. They could be grateful the minister was very particular about his things, which made this one habit work to their advantage. Tailing him and following his accounts had led nowhere.

“It’ll be fine,” Irina said with a supportive grin.

Sophia leaned her chair back before changing the subject to something else. “Since Mischa’s not here, are you going to tell me your latest plans to get to Boris?” she asked, knowing it was a sore subject. But she was worried. Irina had gotten into an exclusive sex club in Paris to learn about a mark that was very personal to the heiress. The operation was tied to Irina’s mother and had been kept secret from Mischa, Irina’s childhood bodyguard and father figure. Mischa wanted her to stop digging into the past, but she wouldn’t… or more like couldn’t. Cade, head of their most skilled team, was helping.

If Mischa found out, heads would roll. The gruff Russian, with scars and a weathered, beaten face that spoke of his early years as an interrogator of sorts, worried for Irina. The old bodyguard didn’t speak of his past, but they all knew Irina’s mother had been the one who’d promoted him to watch over Irina. There was a great deal of loyalty and mystery surrounding her mother’s life and death. “I will get to Boris. I’m just biding my time,” Irina bit out. The heiress had gotten close to the man twice, only to have been carted out of potential danger by an ex-smuggler who’d started playing “knight in shining armor” for some unknown reason.

“I need to deal with that damned smuggler, and I’m debating how to do it.” Before she could say any more, a familiar ringtone sounded. Sophia’s lips twitched while Irina muttered, mostly to herself, “He is so damned impatient!”

The heiress answered as she stood. “I don’t know any more yet, Mischa. The meeting’s audio is too distorted.” Irina shook her head as everyone tried not to laugh. James smirked knowingly as he positioned the headphones back over his short dreadlocks.

Irina started to pace as she chastised her childhood bodyguard. “Stop worrying. You’re supposed to be resting.” Several beats went by as Irina listened, lips pursed. Sophia shared grins with Lauren and Jen. Irina was getting lectured; they could see that in the way the heiress’s head fell back so she could stare at the ceiling while shaking her head. Sophia was close enough to hear the heavy Russian accent on the other end of the phone.

Lauren whispered, “Mischa is losing his mind, being stuck in LA.”

In boarding school, it had been Mischa who’d forced them to learn anything he felt they might need to protect themselves when he wasn’t watching over them, all the while grumbling about not trusting others to do the job.

That was how Sophia had become such an adept climber. He’d always been paranoid and protective of Irina, but Sophia had been grateful he’d extended that to Sophia and Riot, as well.

She hated that the big brute was recovering from surgery in the States. He was everything a father should be. She would have liked to see him, but then again, she didn’t have to live with him.

They all chuckled when Irina switched from placating English to a rapid-fire Russian.

Sophia had studied Russian as one of her languages but not because she was obsessed with a certain Russian. Or so she told herself.

It seemed Irina was turning the tables, demanding he stop lecturing her and complaining about her aunt’s cooking. She snapped at the old Russian about being nicer to the people who were only trying to care for him.

“Those two.” Lauren laughed, her wheat-blond hair skimming her shoulders as she shook her head.

Soon, her friend calmed her tirade and ended the call.

“Is he okay now?” Jen asked. “I find it hard to believe he hasn’t been laid up before.”

Irina sighed. “He’s been shot and had some other minor injuries through the years that I know of, but it’s been a while, and he’s getting close to fifty now. Let’s just say he’s less than pleased with the doctors’ orders, and he hates being taken care of. He’ll be fine as long as he calms down. If not, I won’t rule out Aunt Olenka bashing his head with one of her giant pots. That’s what I’m most worried about. I’ve been getting almost hourly texts from her the whole damned week.”

Olenka was Irina’s self-assigned cook, which was amusing since the woman had grown up wealthy, with her own cook. She was learning via the internet and cooking shows. The woman quite frankly scared Sophia. In truth, Olenka scared most of them. The aging woman had the regal bearing of a queen, was hard as a rock, and could wither a person with a single glance. She swore servants could not be trusted if Irina insisted on doing this “infuriating” dangerous work. As Irina was unwilling to stop, Olenka had taken it upon herself to deal with the few servants allowed to clean at the mansion in America, but she insisted on cooking herself. The woman had her reasons for being so protective, and no one crossed her on them, except maybe Mischa.

The lingering frustration on Irina’s face made Sophia’s lips twitch.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Irina groused.

“I’m sure they’ll be okay.”

“We can hope.”

Out of pity for Irina, Sophia changed the subject. “Jean Luc is scheduled to attend at least one of the charity functions I’ll be at while in London next week. I know I need to tread carefully, but I can only avoid him so much without it seeming suspicious. What I don’t like is that his interest was more… disturbing than usual tonight.”

“Avoid that fucker as much as you can,” James pointed out, hearing her even with the headphones on. “The more you’re seen with him, the riskier it is.”

“I know. I’ll do what I can.” If they were going to be in the same place at the same time, it would look odd if she tried too hard to avoid the man. With social media and cameras everywhere, it was key not to deviate from her normal. When all was said and done, people would scour every interaction Jean Luc had with anyone.

Jen got up from her computer and leaned on James’s desk. “I need you to hack into whatever surveillance cameras are around these intersections.” The guard handed him a note.

“What’s that about?” Irina asked.

Jen proceeded to tell the room at large about their potential tails.

James frowned. “There aren’t many businesses in that area, but I’ll sure as hell see what I can do.”

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