“Either him or someone in the Russian mob,” Peter said.
Roberts narrowed his eyes. “Not local. Petrov’s European connection, is my guess.”
“Not to mention that Stravinski is far scarier than most of the local mobsters,” Peter added.
“The team has located some minor overseas connections to Stravinski, too,” Kathleen said. “Maybe there’s more going on than what we’ve found so far.”
Roberts paused to consider their comments, then inclined his head in the direction of the door. They followed him into the hall where Roman instructed the police officers outside the interrogation room to take Petrov back to his holding cell.
Then Roman led them back to his office where they had moved some of the evidence they had collected from Petrov, including a cell phone which sat, tagged and bagged by the locals as evidence.
Roberts raised the phone. “We’ve had a few calls here from a local number. We’ve traced them to a pre-paid card purchased in Atlantic City.”
“Petrov’s contacts trying to reach him, probably. He still has a shitload of their money,” Peter commented.
“We need someone to take Petrov’s place,” Kathleen said. As her ADIC looked toward the detective, she jumped in. “If it’s Stravinski, he’s probably already familiar with Detective Roman.”
“Definitely. Besides, I’m not the one who can give them access to their money.”
A cold chill gripped the pit of her stomach since she knew who could.
Roberts realized it, as well, and shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with Ivanov being involved in this any further.”
Kathleen was taken aback with the undercurrents in her boss’s tone. “Sir, I hope you’re not saying you don’t trust Ivanov. He’s been totally cooperative.”
He arched a brow and glared at her. “Are you sure you’re being one hundred percent objective, Special Agent?”
Stiffening, she drew on all the resolve she possessed. “I won’t deny that the time I’ve spent with Prince Alexander has brought us close personally. But I can separate that relationship from my duty, sir. I have no doubt that the prince is not involved with Petrov or his cronies, or with anything else illegal.”
Peter did not hesitate to chime in. “I can vouch for him, too. Alexander is as clean as they get, ADIC Roberts.”
Her boss nodded and laid the cell phone back on the table. With a cold stare at her, he said, “Are you willing to bet your badge on it?”
She shouldn’t have been surprised it had come to that. She had practically invited her judgment to be called into question thanks to her personal feelings for Alexander. But despite those feelings, she had no hesitation about the man she had come to know.
“Yes. I’d bet my badge, and yours, too, sir.”
…
It was hard for Alexander to just sit there across from Kathleen, seeming impartial, after being summoned to the FBI field office. He listened to her boss lay out what they were asking him to do, concern twisting his insides to knots. It wasn’t just the danger to him personally. It was the risk to Kathleen’s career if he didn’t quash her ADIC’s doubts about him.
In a way, he wished that Peter hadn’t told him about those doubts. It would have made it possible for him to refuse the request—something he could no longer do, because of his feelings for Kathleen.
Even if she hadn’t been able to meet his gaze from the moment he had walked into the room.
“So let me get this straight. You want me to call whoever has been contacting Petrov and convince them to accept me as his replacement.”
“Or, at a minimum, make a one-time deal to return their money,” ADIC Roberts explained.
With a quick nod of acceptance so he couldn’t give himself time to reconsider, he said, “I’m in.”
Roberts unbagged the cell phone and slid it across the table. It was only when he reached for it that Kathleen finally met his gaze, confusing him with the emotions staring back at him. For a moment, it seemed that she was hoping he would back out—but not because she doubted him. Because she feared for him. That fear, as scary as it was, gave him hope that her feelings for him ran far deeper than what she’d admit to.
As he handed over the cell phone, Roberts said, “We’ve put a bug in it. It will let us not only listen to whatever is said over the line, but also allow us to engage the microphone to hear any nearby conversations, even if the phone is not in use.”
Alexander dialed the number he was given. A mixture of relief and anticipation swept through him as someone answered immediately, in Russian.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
He likewise responded in Russian. “This isn’t Nicolai. The Feds took him away from my casino yesterday.”
“My casino?” There was a pause. “You’re telling me you’re the fuckin’ prince?”
“Yes, although regretfully not fucking anyone at the moment. Maybe later, if I’m lucky. And you are …?” He waited, hoping the man would identify himself. From his accent, Alexander decided that he was lower class, likely from the countryside, much as Stravinski’s background indicated.
“How the fuck did you get this phone?” the man demanded.
“My security chief was able to pocket it before the Feds noticed. My people protect me. Can you say the same?”
A long silence followed. For a second, Alexander feared he had lost the other man, but then Petrov’s contact jumped back on. “What do you want?”
“I think the better question is, how do you get your money back?”
“How do you know it’s my money?” Doubt laced the man’s words and Alexander grimaced. That was quickly noticed by both Kathleen and her boss, who raised their hands with different gestures. Her boss’s said “slow down” while Kathleen’s upraised palm provided reassurance.
Drawing in a deep breath, he brought steel and conviction to his words. “Since Nicolai’s father is too smart to trust him with that much money, I figure you’re the stupid fuck whose cash is sitting in my casino.”
A stream of Russian expletives followed, but then the man said, “You don’t want to mess with me, Ivanov.”
Unsure of just how much to push, he said, “You’re right. I don’t want to mess with you. I want to work with you.”
There was an even longer hesitation on the other end of the line. “How do I know you can be trusted?”
There was that pesky trust thing again. Alexander raked a hand through his hair, and provided the only answer he could at that moment. “Consider this. With a few keystrokes, Nicolai’s quarter of a million could be on the way to my private Cayman Islands account. But instead I called you.”
Another pregnant silence filled the line before Petrov’s contact finally answered. “I need to talk to my associates. I’ll call you back at seven.”
Before Alexander could say another word, the call disconnected.
He laid the phone on the table and glanced toward Kathleen and Roberts. “I’m not quite sure he bought it.” He then translated the conversation for them and told them when the man intended to call back.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
“You had him on the phone long enough to triangulate cell towers. Hopefully he won’t ditch that prepaid for a different one,” Roberts said.
“You also have to make things look as normal as possible until they call,” Kathleen said. “That means going back to the hotel and sticking to your regular routine.”
He glanced at his watch. Since it was nearly three o’clock, that meant a walk around the casino floors and a staff meeting with Jim at five. “I’ll head back. Do want to go with me?” He directed his question at Kathleen.
She shot a nervous look at her boss, but he confirmed she should return with a dip of his head.
“I’ll drive you,” Alexander offered, and was glad when she didn’t offer any fight. He suspected, however, that it had more to do with proving to her boss that they could still work together than any change in her view of thei
r relationship.
When they got to the parking deck, Kathleen just stared at his metallic black Bentley convertible. Was he kidding? With its sleek styling and gleaming chrome, the car was sure to turn heads anywhere he drove it.
She should insist on exchanging the Bentley for something more serviceable and infinitely more discreet. But when she met his gaze, it was clear that was not an option.
“Don’t you have anything less conspicuous that you could drive the next couple of days?” She dropped down onto the seat of the low-riding car after he opened the door for her.
“There’s the Rolls, the Escalade, or a limo if you’d prefer? They’re all bulletproof, by the way, which your car is not,” he remarked casually.
Not rising to his bait, she said, “The Escalade will be fine.”
“I’ll make the arrangements.” The Bentley started with a throaty purr, and he drove it out of the parking spot onto the street at a sedate pace. Once on the highway, he freed the power in the engine and increased their speed.
He handled the car much the same way he did everything else. Competently and with finesse. His large hands rested on the steering wheel and stick shift, and as he changed gears, the car responded with a low, sexy hum. Kind of like she had.
As they sped toward the hotel, the tension in the car grew with each passing mile until she could no longer sit there silently.
“I want to thank you for helping us out.”
His gaze never wavered from the road. “It’s not as if I had much choice.”
“We could have handled it with our own people,” she replied, although in truth, using Alexander had given them capabilities they would not have had with anyone else.
“But then I wouldn’t have cleared my name, would I?” He shot her a glare from the corner of his eye.
“Alexander, I have no doubt that you’re not involved.”
A harsh laugh erupted from him. “Rumor has it your boss is not as convinced.”
“Not responsible for his opinions.” She added, “Would I be off track if I said the source of that rumor was Detective Roman?”
Alexander shrugged and pulled off the highway onto the side street leading to Russian Nights. It took only another minute or so until they were parked in his reserved space. He turned in his seat to face her.
“Peter is a close personal friend, Kat,” he began. “His involvement in this investigation is problematic for him, but rest assured that he has not compromised the integrity of your investigation with anything he’s revealed.”
“Like the fact that my boss still doesn’t trust you.” She was angry—and frankly, surprised—that Peter was telling tales about what had been shared during a meeting. She wondered how the two men had come to be such close friends.
“And like the fact that you’re willing to bet your badge on me,” he said softly.
Kathleen dropped her gaze and rubbed her hands on her thighs. “I let my feelings for you get in the way, Sasha. That was wrong, but I have no doubt that you’re an honorable and honest man.”
Alexander had steeled himself against further rejection since the night before, but Kathleen’s honest words returned a small measure of hope to him. Grasping her chin with his thumb and forefinger, he urged her to look at him. “Some might say I’m a risk-taker, especially with a project as ambitious as Russian Nights. But normally I don’t like to gamble.”
“I know you don’t.”
He nodded and plowed on. “I took a gamble last night, even though I knew the odds weren’t in my favor.”
Tears suddenly shimmered in her eyes. “This isn’t about winning or losing a bet, Sasha. It’s about what’s in here.” She tapped a spot over her heart.
He reached for her hand and clutched it in his. “Why can’t you trust me with your heart the way you do with your badge, Kat?”
“God, Sasha. What you’re asking is—“
“A gamble, Kat. Take that risk. For us.”
She looked away. “There is no us, Sasha. I’m here to do a job, and when I’m done, we both go back to our regular lives.”
He had only ever begged for one thing in his life—to be freed by his kidnappers and returned home. But he would not beg now, even though she was holding his emotions hostage as surely as his body had been as a child.
He inclined his head regally, like the prince he was. “As you wish, Special Agent Martinez.”
Chapter Twenty
Kathleen winced at the cold, imperious tone of his words, but reminded herself that she had to remain objective in order to do her job. Until this case was closed, that meant stepping away from whatever was going on between her and Alexander emotionally.
“We should get to work,” he said, and swiftly exited the car, leaving her to chase after him to keep pace. That he’d forgotten his manners and left her behind was a measure of his fury.
With a swipe of his keycard, he cleared them into the employee’s area and walked to the elevator banks, avoiding any eye contact with her the entire time. After pushing the button, he buried his hands in his pockets and said, “I’m just going to check in with my assistant before I make my rounds.”
She nodded. “I’ll be with Jim. We’ll meet with you later.”
“Sure,” he said, and strode onto the elevator without a backward glance, but as he turned, their gazes skipped across one another for the briefest moment before the door closed.
She could deal with his anger, but not the glimmer of pain she had seen before he shuttered his emotions again.
She knew he wasn’t a man to give trust or love lightly, and he had given her both. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust or care for him in return—she did—it was just not the right time to allow herself those emotions.
It might not ever be the right time. With him, anyway.
Stepping into the next elevator, she headed down to the basement security area, intent on submersing herself in her job once more. Hoping that when the next call came, she would be that much closer to finding Alexander’s missing hostess, and ending the money laundering that was going on in the casino.
As for her and Alexander…
They’d just have to see.
…
It was hard for Alexander to keep to his routine when with each minute that passed, a growing sense of disquiet filled his gut. It wasn’t just the situation with Kathleen. It was something more.
He could feel it. And he didn’t like it.
Closing the door to his office, he paced before the windows, but the beautiful view that normally brought him such peace yielded no relief from the unrest clawing at his gut.
Needing something to do to distract himself, he ordered a meal to be served for Jim, Kathleen, and himself after their security briefing. Then he sat at this desk and went online to check the stock market happenings, but even the reports which showed his portfolio growing nicely did little to cheer him.
He’d learned early on that money wasn’t what life was all about. But then again, it was easier to have that philosophy when one had more money than Midas.
Pushing away from his desk, he rose and walked to the small sitting area in his office. He snapped on the television and flipped through the channels, searching for something to distract him. Nothing caught his interest. He was standing there, surfing through the dozens of stations for a second time when the phone rang. It was Tabitha announcing that Jim and Kathleen had arrived.
He shut off the television and waited for them to enter.
Judging from the dour looks on both their faces, they had nothing good to report. Which only increased the vague sense that something was not right.
“Any developments?” He motioned for the duo to take seats, but they remained standing. Both in that pose that screamed “cop” and added even more to his unrest.
“We were able to triangulate the throwaway that was used to call you. Although the phone was bought in Atlantic City, the signal came from an industrial area in Camden with several large warehouses.”
“Do you think they might be holding the women there?” Alexander asked, hoping they’d soon have some kind of break in the case.
“We’ve started reviewing the names of all of the owners and leaseholders for the nearby buildings, and we’ve got agents on the ground searching the area.”
“That sounds promising.” Alexander prayed they would find the women in one of the warehouses, just as they had in the case involving his family’s building. But he hoped there would be no loss of life as there had been years earlier. Turning to Jim, he asked, “Anything happening here in the casino?”
Jim shook his head. “No sign of the escorts today. Just another routine day. Although we did catch a banned gambler at one of the poker tables. He’d added a moustache and colored his hair to try and hide who he was, but the facial recognition software nailed him.”
“Was he card counting?” Alexander asked.
Jim nodded. “That’s what tipped us off. His luck was way too good. When we ran him, we got the hit.”
Alexander smiled and said, “Nice to know all that money we invested in the software was worthwhile.”
“Definitely, boss.” Jim glanced from him to Kathleen, sensing the tension between them. Though the heat of anger from their discussion in his car had slightly diminished to a chill calm.
“If you don’t need me for anything related to Petrov—”
“No, we don’t, but I ordered dinner. I know you’ve both been working hard and might like to relax with a nice meal.” Alexander sneaked a peek at his watch. “The food should be here shortly. Why don’t we retire to the executive dining room?”
He held out his hand in invitation. After a shared glance, Kathleen preceded Jim out of his office and into the dining room just a few short paces away. When they arrived, his staff was putting the finishing touches on the table setting.
Alexander strolled to the bar and gestured to the decanter of wine. “Would you care for a glass?”
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