Ellie followed Brown Suit. This party wasn’t exclusive, so he’d probably just walked in. But if he had been looking specifically for Koslov, then that meant he’d been following Koslov, and that could be a problem.
Brown Suit stepped outside and lit a cigarette. Ellie watched him through the front window, made slightly difficult because it was dark out and the interior lighting caused a reflection. She followed him into the cool night air and checked her phone. The guy took a few drags then made a call. He said a few things in Russian then hung up. Ellie pretended she was talking on her own phone. He ignored her and continued to smoke until he was done with his cigarette. He tossed it carelessly onto the sidewalk, still smoldering.
A big gray SUV pulled up to the curb, and two guys got out. Clearly, they all shopped at the same clothing store—Mobsters R Us—as Brown Suit, who greeted them in Russian. The second guy, who exited the SUV glanced at Ellie, and she had to catch herself to keep from staring at him. Laskin. What the hell? She turned slightly away so he couldn’t see her face.
The SUV pulled away, and the three men spoke in quiet voices in front of the party venue. She pretended to finish her call and went back inside, keeping her face averted. She had to find Marya before the Russians did, and she unfastened the top three buttons on her blouse to allow easier access to her pistol, just in case.
She scanned the crowd, but didn’t see either Marya or Koslov. Not a big deal. There were lots of people here, after all. After another few moments, she had a bad feeling. Koslov was a big guy, easy to pick out, and he wasn’t anywhere in sight. Bathrooms? Ellie made her way to the back and checked the women’s room. Marya wasn’t inside. She then checked the men’s room, much to the consternation of two guys at the urinals. The stalls were not in use.
This didn’t feel right at all. Back exit, then. She moved quickly down the corridor away from the bathrooms, and at the back door, she pulled her gun out, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open just enough to scan the parking area. She pushed it open a little wider and saw Koslov in the far corner, pushing Marya toward a vehicle. Quickly and quietly, she slipped through the door and hurried after them, keeping low and using the other cars as cover.
As she got closer, she heard Koslov speaking in Russian, and he didn’t sound happy. He had a gun trained on Marya, and he gestured with his other hand at the passenger door of a sports car. As she got in, Koslov said something else to her, and she worked her way into the driver’s seat. Ellie was now at the next car.
Now or never.
She was practically crawling as she darted behind the sports car and paused as Koslov started to get in. He had to duck to do it, and that’s when Ellie made her move.
“NYPD. Freeze,” she said behind him, keeping a couple of steps between them.
He did.
“Drop your weapon and step out of the vehicle.” He carefully set his gun on the ground. Ellie took a step and kicked it away. “Out of the vehicle and on your knees.”
He didn’t move.
“Last chance.”
He didn’t say anything, and for a big guy, he moved fast. Ellie managed to dodge and fire at him when he lunged, but she was off balance and the shot went wide. She fell to one knee, and it was like slow motion, watching him wind up for a wicked roundhouse kick aimed at her head. Oh, hell, no. He was not going to pull Russian ninja shit on her. She threw herself backward, and his kick just missed. A blur of movement passed in front of her, and Marya decked him with a perfect punch to the side of his head. He went down hard next to the car and stayed there.
Marya offered her hand, and Ellie let her pull her up.
“Well done.”
Ellie started to reply but a gray SUV pulled into the parking area and stopped in front of the sports car. Laskin got out of the passenger side, and Ellie started to raise her gun, but Marya’s hand on her forearm stopped her.
“Stand down. They’re with us.”
What the hell? Laskin was part of the MI6 op?
Marya addressed Laskin in Russian, and he nodded and pulled a pair of cuffs out of his suit pocket. Koslov moaned and mumbled something as Laskin positioned his hands behind him and snapped the cuffs on. The two other Russian guys from earlier got out of the vehicle and hauled Koslov to his feet.
“You bitch,” he said, glaring at Marya.
Laskin said something to him in Russian and Koslov stared at him. “You’re dead,” he said in English, eyes wide. “She shot you on the ship.”
Ellie gaped at Laskin.
He shrugged. “She missed.” And then he smiled, like a predator might right before it ate you. “On purpose.” He pulled out a black billfold and flashed a badge at Koslov. This looked like serious undercover Russian shit. Koslov stared first at it, then at him.
“I recommend, Lyev, that you go quietly,” Marya said.
“You sold me out?” Lyev’s gaze bounced from her to Laskin. “How much did they pay you? What kind of deal did you make?”
Laskin said something else in Russian, and one of the other guys took Lyev’s arm while his unnamed buddy took a position on the other side. They hauled him toward the SUV, and Laskin nodded at Marya, then turned to Ellie.
“It took a while for my knee to heal,” he said.
“Yeah, well, next time let me know you’re one of the good guys. Or at least not a bad guy.”
He smiled again, but it was genuine this time. He said something in Russian to Marya, and she nodded, but he was already on his way back to the SUV. It was gone within a few moments. If nothing else, Russians were efficient with this undercover crap. She stood with Marya, staring after the vehicle. Marya glanced at her. “Thank you.”
“What just happened? Besides a major party foul?” She brushed off her trousers and put her gun away.
Marya laughed.
“For real. Does Koslov know about your other identity?”
“Not yet. And this is a discussion for another time. Champagne?”
“Love some.” She followed Marya back inside and a few moments later, Marya handed her a glass.
“Care to tell me what happened at some point?” Ellie asked. “Or is this a need-to-know kind of thing? Because I did discharge my weapon, and I will have to make a report.”
“I’ll call to expedite the process.”
“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure Rick’s not going to be happy about it. Paperwork, after all.”
“But in the service of national security. Cheers.” She tapped her glass against Ellie’s. “And thank you again.”
“Sure.” But she wondered if Marya had really needed her help. She was probably trained in all kinds of fight styles and could probably go mixed martial arts on somebody like Koslov without messing up her hair, even in close quarters like a sports car.
Several groupies approached and engulfed Marya, clearly starstruck. Ellie took the cue and finished her champagne with only a slight grimace. “Good night,” she said to Marya. “See you later.”
“Yes, you will. Good night.” She gave her one of her mysterious smiles, and Ellie left before she burst into flames. She caught a train, glad to beat what looked like impending rain, and she thought about Koslov and about how Marya—probably MI6 in general—had set him up. And Laskin was clearly not the Petrov killer. Did that mean Koslov was the actual Petrov killer in addition to probably running the arms ring? And did she even care? This kind of international intrigue made her head feel like it was going to explode.
The train slowed as it approached her stop. She stepped off and went up the grimy steps to the street, wet with newly fallen rain. She picked up her pace, a hot shower foremost on her mind.
CHAPTER 16
“So Laskin is actually law enforcement?” Ellie opened another candy. “And all that crazy info on Interpol is planted?”
“Looks that way. The info’s gone, now.” Rick got up and went to the printer.
“That’s just creepy.” And maybe all those conspiracy theorists had a point, about governments
knowing too much and planting info everywhere.
“The good news is, there will be no inquiry into firing your weapon at Lyev Koslov. MI6 is backing you one hundred percent.” He handed her one of the papers that he had just printed. “This’ll be going into your file.”
She skimmed it, relieved to see in writing what he had just said. Thank you, Marya.
“Did you really save Hampstead’s ass?” he asked.
“I don’t really know. Maybe I helped facilitate a little. But she is seriously the female version of James Bond.” She handed the paper back. “Think about it. Mysterious agent who moonlights as a celebrity fashion mogul. How the hell do you even do that? That’s a cover-up for the ages. Like, years. Maybe decades.”
“Maybe not as hard to do as you think, since Jonathan is MI6, too.” Rick picked up his coffee. “He could’ve started creating the record long before she was even old enough to pick up a gun.”
“Agent grooming? That’s just fucked up.”
He shrugged and sipped. “Weirder things have happened.”
She thought about Marya kissing her on the tugboat and silently agreed with him.
“So, your last day at Fashion Forward is Tuesday. Think they’ll throw you a party?” He grinned.
“Nah. Maybe drinks or lunch or something. And last night was party enough for a while.”
“Maybe it’s time for a vacation, Els. Seriously. When was the last time you had one?”
She didn’t respond right away because she couldn’t quite remember.
“See that? You don’t even know. It’s time.”
“Maybe. Where should I go?”
“You could start with dancing tonight. It’s Saturday, after all. And I heard Sue might want a date.” He tried to sound innocent.
She side-eyed him. “Shut up.”
“She said you’re a hell of a kisser.”
Ellie almost choked on her candy. “What the fuck?”
He laughed. “All part of the op, right, Els? Can’t blame you, though. Sue’s attractive.”
“Oh, for—”
“Could’ve happened to anyone, having to plant one on somebody in a bar.”
She knew she was blushing, which only made him laugh harder. “Sue’s a good sport,” Ellie muttered.
“So, apparently, are you.”
“National security, bro.” She glared at him and turned back to her screen. “So did Koslov kill all those Petrovs?”
Rick wiped his eyes. “All right, all right. I’ll quit.” He cleared his throat. “It seems that he did. MI6 has been infiltrating his operation for almost two years. He was using models, as you figured out, and so were the Petrovs, on their own circuit. Koslov was trying to wipe out some of the competition, but he didn’t play it quite right, because it caused problems here. Daddy Koslov didn’t know baby son Lyev was dirty-dealing, and from what I can tell, MI6 believes him.”
“Do you?”
He shrugged. “He’s a wily old fox, that guy. And totally capable of throwing a son under the bus.”
“Where does Laskin fit in?”
“From what info MI6 shared, this arms ring was potential trouble for the Kremlin, given events in Ukraine and the fact that the guns seemed to be coming out of Russia. The last thing Putin needed was a tie to gun-running in countries that harbor terrorists. Laskin is a long-time agent, former KGB, with a long track record in this kind of stuff.”
Ellie chewed the last little bit of candy. “And I’ll bet Laskin isn’t his real name.”
“I wouldn’t take that bet, because you’re right. I don’t know what it is, but ultimately, it probably doesn’t matter.” He gave her a quizzical look. “So is Hampstead going to wish you happy trails on your last day?”
“Don’t know.” And maybe it stung a little, that this was it for Hampstead, since Ellie had no reason to hang out at Fashion Forward after this. Unless Gwen invited her to a fundraiser down the line that Marya happened to attend.
“On the plus side, you have a contact with MI6.”
“Yeah. I guess.” She really wanted to think about something else.
“Anyway, want to grab a beer?”
“Yeah.” She logged out of her computer.
“And maybe you should think about that vacation. In all seriousness. This was a crazy op, and it would do you some good to chill for a while.”
“I’ll think about it.” Not a bad idea. She should dust off her passport, maybe.
“You have tons of time accrued.”
“Yeah, yeah. Put your money where your mouth is and buy me a beer.”
He grinned, reached into his desk drawer, and tossed something at her. “I figured you were running out,” he said when she caught the bag of candy.
“You’re enabling me.”
He shrugged. “Hell, if it gets work done the way you did it this past month, I’ll enable the shit out of you.”
She smiled and followed him out of the station.
* * *
Ellie stretched out on her couch with a sigh of relief, wearing her favorite baggy sweats. The radiator clinked and hissed in the corner and what looked like a ridiculously bad monster movie was on TV. The microwave dinged in the kitchen, and she went to retrieve her popcorn, which she dumped into a big plastic bowl before she added a few spices to it. She rinsed a coffee cup out and poured a bit of Jack Daniel’s into it and sipped, deciding to top off the two beers she’d had with Rick a few hours ago.
This right here was the best kind of accessorizing, she thought as she plopped back down on the couch and prepared to stream a different movie. It was also the perfect way to forget about a super-hot woman whose day job was actually secret agent but who moonlighted as a fashion celebrity. She had thought there might be a possibility for at least a one-night stand, but it didn’t seem that was in the cards. And it felt weird to contact Marya at Fashion Forward and ask her out. Kind of like invading her space, somehow.
Oh, well.
She reached for one of her remotes when her phone buzzed with a text from a number she didn’t recognize. Who the hell was texting her at eleven at night? Want some company?
“Fuck, no,” she muttered as she responded. Wrong number. Drunk text somebody else. She scooped up a handful of popcorn and picked up the remote when her phone buzzed again.
“Really?” Ellie muttered and debated turning her phone off, but curiosity got the better of her and she read the message.
I only had one glass of wine at dinner, Ellie. Another message followed: So about that company…
She stared at it. Marya? This just got interesting. Depends on whose. She waited for a response, almost holding her breath.
Mine.
That’s doable. She was fully aware of all the meanings that could have. When?
Open your door.
She re-read the message a few times, and then she was off the couch and in her bedroom within seconds, where she grabbed her gun. Now ready, she went to the front door, wincing as the wooden floor creaked under her weight. Given the crazy spy movie shit of the past few days, she didn’t put her eye to the peephole right away. After all, there might be some Russian model who was part of an international arms ring on the other side, with the barrel of a pistol pressed against it, pretending to be Marya.
“Who is it?”
“Your not-drunk texter,” said an all-too-familiar voice on the other side of the door.
Ellie cautiously checked the peephole. Definitely Marya. No Russian models moonlighting in international arms rings in sight. She unlocked the door and opened it a little. “So. Just driving through the neighborhood? Thought you might drop by?”
“Something like that.”
Ellie nodded, as if thinking. “Do you like popcorn?”
“Love it.”
Ellie nodded again and swung the door open. And holy Christ on a windmill, Marya could wear anything and look good, even when it was damp from the rain. She had on jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt under a jean jacket. She was also
wearing a baseball cap, and she looked edible even like this, and not at all like a fashion queen.
Marya smiled. “Shouldn’t there be a test?”
“That was it.”
“A woman of refinement. I appreciate that.”
“I take my popcorn very seriously,” she said as Marya stepped inside and waited while she locked up again. She smelled like rain and a hint of cologne—something crisp and clean. “Make yourself at home,” Ellie said. “I’ll just go put my accessory away.”
“And a fine one it is.” Her voice was like a caress down Ellie’s back and hello, what did she think she was doing, letting Marya Hampstead, fashion empress and badass agent, into her apartment?
She returned her gun to its lockbox, but stood for a moment, a hundred different thoughts running through her head. Hell, she knew exactly why she’d let her in.
“This is really good popcorn.”
She looked up. Marya stood in the doorway to her bedroom with the popcorn bowl, munching away. She had taken her jacket and cap off and she could have passed as a college co-ed spending an evening with a study group.
“Told you. Popcorn is serious business in my life.”
“And you have a very nice place. It’s comfortable. Feels homey.”
“Thanks. Want something to drink? Soda? Mineral water? Something stronger?” Ellie brushed past her, needing to keep some distance between them until she figured out exactly what this visit was about. She picked up her cup of Jack Daniel’s on the way to the kitchen.
“The second.”
She went to the kitchen, and Marya followed her, still carrying the popcorn, and watched as Ellie took a bottle of sparkling water out of the fridge and poured a glass.
Marya took a drink. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” she said as she sipped from her cup. “And I probably don’t want to know how you got my address.”
If Looks Could Kill Page 15