Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
The shopping therapy seemed to help, because the sexy man at his side was more relaxed and comfortable in his own skin again as they walked along.
“We picked up a shadow,” Alexei announced, a smile still toying with his lips. He made the comment casually, as if he were asking about Soren’s plans for dinner. But it wasn’t a surprise. He’d spotted their new shadow as well.
“White blouse, large straw hat, dark sunglasses?” he listed. The woman looked to be in her midthirties with short brown hair and sharply angled face behind her oversized glasses. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t that bright. It was like she was trying to be some retro silver-screen starlet. Sorry, honey. You’re no Audrey, and definitely no Lauren.
“Huh. Khaki shorts and blue polo. Total American dad on vacation look,” Alexei said with an added moan of disgust. “Spotted him when we went into the soap shop.”
It took some effort to keep the surprise from showing on his face. He hadn’t noticed the American dad. But then, he’d been worried about Alexei when they’d walked into the soap shop. He’d not been paying the kind of attention he should have been to their surroundings.
“She came out of the chocolate shop next door to the soap shop when we passed,” Soren murmured. “You know, I don’t think they’re Russians.”
“Me neither. At the very least, they’ve brought more firepower. There’s a sniper on the roof of the tall red building on the other side of the canal. Saw the sun reflected off the sight.”
Soren snorted. “Amateur.”
“Pathetic,” Alexei added, earning a snicker from Soren.
“How do you want to handle this?” Soren inquired. There were plenty of shops and narrow streets for them to dart down. Splitting up was probably wisest, but he was loath to lose sight of Alexei.
“Head on.”
Soren’s mouth fell open to argue, but no sound came out as Alexei stopped right where he was and turned toward the building he’d indicated across the canal. He lifted his hand and proceeded to wave at the sniper, a wide grin on his face. “Yoo-hoo! I see you!” he called out in a high-pitched, singsong voice. “Come over here!” He waved his arm wildly, inviting the sniper across the canal as if asking him to tea.
Soren slapped his hand on his face and laughed. The man was fearless and definitely crazy, but he so liked his style.
Chuckling, Soren hooked his arm through Alexei’s and pulled him down the narrow street. “Come on, you lunatic. There’s a pair of benches a little farther along. We can sit and let our new friends come to us. By now they’ve realized their cover is blown. I’m assuming you’re armed.”
Alexei shot him a look of utter disgust. Soren should have known better.
Soren sighed. “I am going to be spending a lot of hours making that question up to you, aren’t I?”
“I’ll go ahead and order you some kneepads off Amazon now,” Alexei murmured.
“Savage. Simply savage.” But he was grinning as he said it. He’d put those damn kneepads to good use for Alexei and love every second of it.
They strolled down the narrow street until it opened up into a small park-like setting with a couple of benches set under a large tree. It was somewhat off the main thoroughfare with fewer people passing along. They were in luck that the benches were unoccupied when they arrived.
“So, what do you think? MI6? CIA? Elite squad of rogue thieves?”
Soren chuckled at Alexei’s cheeky question. “You’ve watched too much TV.”
“Well, they’re definitely not assassins. Three of them working together?” He made a tsking noise while shaking his head. “Just not done.”
“Can’t trust each other?”
“Ruins the image of the lone gunman when there are three of you.” He leaned closer to Soren and lowered his voice. “My guess is Mossad.”
“Interesting,” Soren hummed at the mention of the Israeli intelligence agency. “I’m leaning toward MI6, but I’m not ruling out another round with the Russians.”
“So, not old coworkers of yours?”
“Definitely not.”
Before they could continue with their conjecturing, the woman in the wide brim hat sat on the bench opposite of them. There was something very prim and proper about the way she sat on the edge of the seat, her legs delicately crossed at the ankles. She removed her large sunglasses and tucked one of the arms in the front of her white blouse. She regarded them with dark, displeased eyes. She looked at Alexei, seeming to weigh him, then turned her attention over to Soren.
“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be,” she said in a low voice with a distinctly British accent.
Alexei made a show of throwing up his arms in disgust. “Thank God I didn’t bet on this. I’d have lost.”
Soren frowned at the woman. He knew that voice. She’d gone by Sheila Taggert at the time and had bitched him out on secured lines more than once over his approach to handling a mission. Too brash. Too risky.