Shadow Assassin

by Elle James

  With her point blank question, he stumbled. “My father was in the military. He taught us how to stand tall and be proud of our armed forces and of our country. What did your father teach you?” he asked to deflect her attention from him.

  She laughed softly. “He taught me to observe people and situations and to always be aware of my surroundings.”

  “That’s a good thing for a woman to learn,” Striker said.

  “Actually, it’s a good thing for anyone to learn. He also taught me how to learn from others and blend in wherever we lived. It makes it easier for me to assimilate to new surroundings.”

  “Where are your parents now?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer for a long moment. Then her voice sounded softly in the darkness. “They are deceased.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that,” he said. “How long has it been since they passed?” he asked.

  “Two years.”

  “That’s not long ago,” he said. “You must still be hurting.”

  “I miss them, but life goes on. And you?” she asked. “Do you still have parents?”

  “They’re alive and living in Texas. Although it’s been over a year since I’ve seen them.”

  “What’s keeping you from visiting?” she asked.

  He wanted to say pride. Instead, he said, “I’ve been busy trying to make a living.”

  “Don’t wait too long,” she warned. “None of us knows how long we have on this earth. You have to appreciate those you love while you can. I know I did. And every day that goes by I wish I still had my parents.”

  “I do miss fishing with my father,” Striker said. “I miss the peace and quiet, and then the excitement of catching a fish. We always ate what we caught or released them back into the water. He’s a quiet man, but in his silence, he teaches by example, showing me how to do things more than telling me, from baiting a hook to how to treat a woman. He loves my mother and would do anything to make her happy.”

  “My father loved my mother too, and my mother adored him,” Alex spoke softly in the darkness.

  “How did they die, if you don’t mind my asking?” Striker said.

  “They were murdered in our home.”

  Striker’s chest tightened at the thought of Alex losing both of her parents so tragically. “Were you there?” he asked.

  “I escaped; they did not.”

  “Was this in Russia?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I’m surprised whoever killed them let you live.”

  “They didn’t know I was there. I got out before they found me.”

  “I’m sorry, Alex. I know what it feels like to watch somebody you care about take their last breath. I can’t imagine that someone being one of my parents. I’m sorry.”

  She gave a harsh laugh. “What do you have to be sorry about? You didn’t kill them.”

  “No, but I feel your pain, and I’ve experienced it.”

  “You say your parents are alive. Who have you lost?”

  “My brother,” he said. It had been one of his Navy SEAL teammates. He’d held him in his arms as he’d taken his last breath after sustaining a gunshot wound to his chest. Though Striker had gotten him out of the firefight and into the helicopter, the medic hadn’t been able to keep him alive all the way back to the forward operating base. He’d died in transit, the wounds too grievous for the medic to stop the bleeding.

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said. “You must have cared deeply for him.”

  “I did.” His teammate had been his brother in the most important sense of the word. If Striker could have, he would’ve taken the bullet for him so that he might live. “What did you do after your parents’ death? Did you stay in Russia?”

  “No,” she said, “I made my way back to the United States. It was a little over a year before I returned to Russia.”

  “I’m surprised you came back to Europe at all,” he said. “Why did you return?”

  “I was able to get work as a translator.”

  “Couldn’t you have done that in Washington D.C.?”

  “Not as easily as I could in Moscow. And I guess I also needed to prove to myself that I could go back without fear.”

  “You say you’re here as an interpreter for the German delegate?” Striker asked.

  “Yes. Hans Sutter.”

  “But you weren’t with the German minister at the reception last night.”

  She nodded. “My primary duties are for during the summit. I’ll be there tomorrow throughout the day.”

  “Sounds to me like a long boring day of blah-blah-blah.”

  She laughed. “There will be a lot of that. Men in power tend to posture a lot, but hopefully, they’ll get down to the business of determining the fate of the pipeline. It’s why most of the people are here. Either they are all for the additional pipeline or completely against it. There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of middle ground right now. Hopefully, they can come to an equitable solution by end of day tomorrow. If not, it will bleed into the next day. I know the Germans, and many other nations within the EU, are anxious to contract for additional natural gas in anticipation of heating Europe through the winter. The increase in population is in part due to the growing communities of migrants who’ve been coming from war torn nations in the Middle East and in Africa.”

  “I understand from my reading,” Striker said, “that the current flow of natural gas won’t be sufficient to get Germany, or any other country within the EU, through the winter.”

  “That’s right,” Alex said. “In other words, it’s very important for the Russians and the EU, in particular Germany because the pipeline will end there, to come to some agreement before the end of this summit.”

  “Which means the Russians and the Germans need to live long enough to make that agreement,” Striker said.

  “True.”

  Silence stretched between them, and for a little while Striker thought that Alex had fallen asleep.

  Then her voice came through the darkness. “You don’t strike me as someone who would appreciate being a male escort for long.”

  “It pays the bills,” he said. “But you’re right. It’s not really my thing. It wasn’t something I dreamed of as a boy growing up with my father who worked with his hands raising cattle on a ranch in Texas.”

  “Why don’t you go back to Texas and work with your father?” Alex asked.

  “I can’t,” he said. “Not yet. Not until I have proven to myself, and to him, that I can make it on my own.”

  “And after you’ve proven all that? Then what?”

  “Then maybe I will go back and learn to be a rancher. I know my father would love that.”

  “And would he approve of you being a male escort?” she asked.

  “My father would approve of anything that makes me happy.”

  “And does being a male escort make you happy?” she persisted.

  “It pays the bills,” he repeated. “What about you? Did you dream of being an interpreter as a little girl?”

  She snorted. “No, my first dream was to be an Olympic gymnast, but I didn’t start young enough, and we moved before I could get any good at it.”

  He chuckled. “And after you moved, did you come up with a new dream career?”

  “I loved history. My father and I would read books together about people, places and different eras. It all fascinated me. I thought one day I might become a history teacher.”

  “And why didn’t you do that?” he asked.

  “After my parents’ death, I realized I had to support myself. I didn’t have the money to go to college, but I did have the skillset to be an interpreter. Many college students never achieve that level of understanding of different languages. It takes being immersed in that society where that is the only language you hear and use.”

  “If you could choose any other career, what would it be?” he asked.

  “Anything that didn’t require being around politicians and diplomats. Right now, work
ing on a ranch with your father sounds pretty good. The fewer people I’d have to deal with, the better. Animals seldom talk back.”

  Striker laughed out loud. “They may not be able to talk back, but they get their message across. They can be just as stubborn as any human. I should know. I had a horse stand on my foot and refuse to move because he was mad I hadn’t given him another bucket of grain.”

  Alex chuckled. “I would prefer that over any human any day.”

  “You’d prefer a horse to stand on your foot?”

  “No, but I’d prefer to deal with an animal with an attitude than with a person with an attitude.”

  “I get that,” he said. “People can be more complicated and rude.”

  “I still feel bad about you sleeping on the floor,” she said.

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “You paid for this room. This is your bed. You should be sleeping in it.”

  “I’ll rest peacefully knowing that you’re comfortable,” he murmured.

  “And I’d feel better knowing that you were sleeping comfortably in a bed. There’s plenty of room for both of us. This bed is huge.”

  Striker was tempted. “No. It’s okay. The floor isn’t that bad.” He knew that if he climbed into that bed, he wouldn’t sleep much at all, not when a beautiful woman lay beside him. One who had touched his heart with her memories of her love for her parents. He couldn’t imagine being alone in a foreign country having to deal with the loss of his parents.

  “I don’t take up much room in this bed,” Alex insisted. “I’d feel better if you were sleeping in the bed you paid for.”

  He started to say that he hadn’t paid for it, but he couldn’t. He shifted on the makeshift pallet. The floor was particularly hard, and the comforter did little to soften it. He sighed. “Okay, as long as you put pillows between us.” He prayed that would be enough to keep him from rolling over in his sleep and gathering her in his arms. Afterall, that dress she’d worn earlier that evening had done little to disguise her incredible body.

  He wouldn’t get much sleep on the floor, and he sure as hell wouldn’t get much sleep in the bed. At least he’d be more comfortable while he wasn’t sleeping.

  He climbed onto the bed and settled on the edge as far away from her as he could get. “Better?” he asked.

  “Much,” she said. “Now, I can go to sleep. Goodnight, Daniel, and thank you.”

  “Goodnight, Alex.” He lay for a long time staring at the ceiling in the dim sliver of light making its way into the bedroom from the bathroom.

  Not long after she’d said goodnight, Alex’s breathing grew slower and deeper.

  Striker lay in the dark, listening to every breath she took, his body aching for something he couldn’t have. He didn’t know this woman, and he was there to do a job. And when the job was done, they’d part ways, never to see each other again. He found himself saddened at the thought. He turned on his side, his back to her. He closed his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep. But sleep wasn’t easy to come by with a beautiful woman lying next to him. He was glad Charley would do a little more digging. Maybe she’d discover more about Alexa Sokolov.

  Chapter 6

  Alex was surprised that when she woke the next morning she’d actually slept through the night, something she hadn’t done since her parents’ deaths, and despite the fact she’d slept with a stranger.

  Daniel had promised not to touch her and though she had a natural distrust of everybody, she inexplicably believed him. The pillows had been more of a barrier to keep her from touching him.

  They hadn’t been necessary. She’d slept soundly and undisturbed. When she opened her eyes, she looked toward the other pillow beside her and found it empty. She sat up straight in the bed. The sound of a shower running in the bathroom reassured her that Daniel hadn’t left.

  With him occupied in the shower, she jumped out of bed, hurried to her backpack and unearthed her wrinkle free blouse, jacket and the skirt she’d brought to wear when she was translating during the summit meetings. In the mirror over the dresser, she quickly combed the tangles out of her hair and applied a light coat of makeup. She was stepping into her shoes when Daniel emerged from the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake,” he said. “Room service should be delivering breakfast about—” A knock at the door interrupted his sentence. He grinned. “Now.” He crossed to the door, checked through the peephole and turned to her. “It’s room service.”

  Alex ducked out of sight as Striker opened the door. A member of the hotel staff wheeled in a cart and laid covered plates on the table in the corner. He wheeled the cart back out, and the door closed behind him.

  “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I ordered coffee, tea and espresso. You choose.” He removed a stainless steel cover from one of the plates. “And I hope you like eggs Benedict. If you don’t, they’ve also brought a variety of cold cuts and toast.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll have the tea and toast,” she said. The scent of food made her tummy rumble.

  “Good,” he said. “I prefer coffee.” He lifted the mug of coffee, took the top off, drank a long swallow then glanced at his watch. “You only have a few minutes before you have to be down at the summit meetings…?”

  She nodded, nibbled at the toast and drank the tea.

  “What are you going to do about your room today?” he asked.

  “I’m not exactly sure. I suppose I could check and see if they have an opening for another room.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here another night. I’m almost sure I heard them say the hotel was fully booked for this event.”

  “I’ve already inconvenienced you enough,” she hedged.

  “We’ve been through this argument.” He held up a hand. “The offer’s open.”

  “At the very least, I’d like to leave my things here until I decide what to do.” She met his gaze. “What about you? What will you be doing during the day while I’m attending the summit?”

  “I want to do more research on some of the players involved in this meeting, as well as review the video again in case I’ve missed something.” He also intended to speak with Charley to find out what she might have learned.

  “The summit will have a catered lunch in one of the banquet halls,” Alex said.

  “I’ll be there,” he said. “Though I’m not included in the summit meetings, I do have access to the luncheons and dinners.”

  “I hope you know I won’t be sitting with you,” she said.

  He nodded. “It would be better that people don’t know where you’re staying, especially considering the attack last night.”

  “I would like to come up to the room at lunch, if possible.”

  “I can make that happen,” he said.

  “Just watch for me when I leave the banquet hall.” She nodded, glanced at the clock on the nightstand and set her tea on the tray. “I’d better go.” She hurried down to the large conference room where the summit would take place and took her seat beside the German Minister of Energy. He understood a little Russian and was fairly fluent in English, but he’d requested an interpreter just in case. That had been Alex’s means for gaining entry into the conference. With a little help from a computer hacker, she’d made the top of the list for potential interpreters for the Energy Summit.

  The summit meeting got underway with an introduction of all foreign leaders, scientists and decision makers. The representative from the European Union gave a brief history on the different types and origins of energy sources used throughout Europe.

  He named the countries represented that provided those resources. He also talked about the continuing influx of migrants from Africa and the Middle East, and how the growing population in the EU had increased the demand for energy. The early forecast for the coming winter indicated it would be even colder than the previous one, and they were concerned about meeting their energy needs.

  He then turne
d the meeting over to Anatoly Petrov, who segued into the need for the second phase of the Nord Stream pipeline to meet the increased demand for natural gas in Europe.

  Even if Hans Sutter, the German delegate, didn’t need it, Alex provided a soft-spoken translation of everything said.

  After Anatoly had explained how the pipeline would be laid at the bottom of the Baltic Sea alongside the original Nord Stream pipeline, he took a seat looking pale, the injury obviously causing him pain.

  As soon as Anatoly sat, Richard Weddington, the representative from the UK stood. “Adding another pipeline only emphasizes our dependence on nonrenewable energy. What are we doing to reduce our need for nonrenewable fuel?”

  Anatoly struggled to his feet again. “Part of our plan for introducing the new pipeline is to also allow sufficient funds to continue research into alternative fuel sources.”

  “Assuming you put this pipeline in place,” the German spoke in Russian, “are you prepared for the possibility of someone employing ransomware that could shut down the original pipeline as well as the phase two pipeline?”

  Anatoly pressed a hand to his chest and winced. “Our team has developed antivirus software to block the deployment of ransomware into our system.”

  Weddington frowned. “You have software that can effectively combat ransomware? Has it been tested? Is it proven?”

  Anatoly nodded.

  “You have antivirus software, and you haven’t shared it with everybody else?” Richard Weddington continued, his voice rising.

  “It works with our upgraded computer system. We can retrofit the existing controls to work with the phase one pipeline. The point is, if this pipeline is approved, it will be foolproof and provide the millions of additional cubic feet of natural gas needed to keep Europe warm this winter and many winters to come.”

  “How do we know you’re not working with the hackers that produce the ransomware? Everyone knows the hackers are Russian.”

  Sutter pounded his fist on the table in front of him, making Alex jump. “Share the antivirus software so that we know it is viable,” he said. “Otherwise, you’re no better than the people who produce the ransomware.”