Secured by the SEAL

by Carol Ericson

  She lay on her belly and aimed her phone into the space. “I see it. It’s still there.”

  She rolled over onto her back, flinging one arm across her face. “Thank God they didn’t find it, but they suspect me. It must be the tow-yard receipt. Do you think that’s it?”

  “Unless Sergei makes a habit out of searching new waitress’s apartments, he must’ve had his goons come here for a reason.”

  He rose from his crouch and extended his hand to her. “It’s a good thing you had the brilliant idea to hide the painting. If the intruder had seen that, there would’ve been no suspicion left in Sergei’s mind that you were going to pose a problem.”

  She grasped his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

  Brushing off the front of her clothes, she asked, “And the tow-yard receipt? What does that tell him?”

  “Tells him you were in the area when Jerome was murdered. Lots of people go to that part of town at that time of night. The killer didn’t see Jerome with you or anyone else.”

  “I have an idea.” She slumped into one of the two chairs in the room. “I can confess to a couple of the girls that I was supposed to meet Jerome for a drink that night, had trouble parking, and by the time I got to Rage, Jerome had been killed. I was too afraid to talk to the cops.”

  Alexei took the other chair and hunched forward, his elbows digging into his knees. “Why do you need a story when you’re leaving?”

  Britt’s chin formed a hard line that he was beginning to recognize.

  “Who said I was leaving? Mila is at risk. Jessie is missing. We can’t let the Belkins continue to use young women and destroy them and their dreams.”

  He clasped his hands and rested his chin on his interlocked knuckles. Britt not only wanted to save her sister, but she also wanted to rescue every woman in that club.

  “Britt, what I’m working on will bring down the Belkins and all of their operations in LA, including their sex-trafficking ring. I made some contacts, and I’m hoping to get invited to one of their parties at the banquet hall.”

  “What if it’s too late for Mila?”

  “It’s not your job to save Mila, not if it compromises your own safety.” He pushed out of the chair and wandered to the window. “Are you trying to compensate for not being here to save your sister?”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, before he even heard Britt’s breath hiss between her teeth, he knew he’d made another boorish blunder.

  The chair squeaked behind him, and she joined him at the window, her face tight. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”

  He turned toward her and rubbed his hands up and down her stiff arms. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business why you want to help Mila, and I’m not implying that the only reason is that you see her as some kind of substitute for Leanna.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “That’s okay. As a therapist, I’m self-aware enough to know my motivations. Doesn’t make them any less compelling.”

  “I just don’t want to see you put yourself in danger anymore, although I guess that’s not any of my business either.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered, and his pulse quickened. Did she want her safety to be his business?

  He swept his arm behind him, encompassing the room. “We know whoever broke in didn’t get the painting of Tatyana, but what did he get? You haven’t checked to see if anything else was missing. Laptop?”

  “My laptop’s in the car.” She drove the heel of her hand against her forehead. “I left it there, under the seat.”

  “We’ll get it in a minute. It’s a good thing you had it there. Do you make a habit of taking it with you to the club?”

  “I don’t have Wi-Fi here. I stopped at a coffeehouse on the way to the Tattle-Tale tonight so I could check emails and catch up on a little work. I do still have clients who need me.”

  Who didn’t need Britt?

  “Anything else?” He spread his arms. “No notes from Leanna or pictures tying her to you? Those bills?”

  “Look at this place.” She ducked around him and opened and closed the door of the microwave, which was the extent of her kitchen in here. “Bare bones, and I paid her bills and tossed them.”

  “So, all they have on you is a receipt from a tow yard, indicating you were in the vicinity when they murdered Jerome—unless they don’t have the receipt at all and you’ve given them some other reason to suspect you.”

  “There’s nothing, and I’m going to alleviate Sergei’s suspicions about the tow-yard receipt.”

  “By spreading it around that you were in the area that night?”

  “I’m going to admit that I was supposed to meet Jerome—for a date.”

  “Is that a good idea considering they’d pegged Jerome as public enemy number one? They must’ve had something on him to eliminate him like that.”

  “He knew something about Tatyana or about Leanna’s disappearance.”

  “Or both.”

  “Doesn’t mean he told me.”

  He dropped into a chair and drummed his finger against the arm of it. “I wonder what Jerome was doing at the Tattle-Tale that night he returned when we were there and if it had anything to do with his murder.”

  “But Sergei never saw him come back because you did that voodoo on the tape and erased Jerome’s late-night visit.”

  “Maybe that wasn’t Jerome’s first late-night visit back to the club. Maybe he’d done that before and Sergei did see him on the surveillance video.”

  “Did you even pay attention to what he was doing when he came back? I didn’t. I was too freaked out.”

  “He went behind the bar, but I don’t recall what part of it or what he did back there, but—” he snapped his fingers “—we can replay it. I have that video on my laptop.”

  “That might help. I have a better idea now what’s what behind the bar and may be able to make some educated guesses about what Jerome was doing there, but that means I am going back to the Tattle-Tale, and I’m going to drop the word about me and Jerome. Sergei can believe what he wants.” Britt wedged her hands on her hips as if expecting to do battle.

  “All right, but you’re not going to be there on your own. I met a guy tonight, another Russian, and he’s going to introduce me to Sergei tomorrow night, or I guess I met him last night, and he’s introducing me to Sergei tonight.”

  “You’re not introducing yourself as Alexei Ivanov, are you?”

  Alexei’s lips curled into a smile. As much as he’d like to see the look on Sergei’s face when he heard the name Alexei Ivanov, he wasn’t ready for that yet. “I’m Mikhail Orloff—Mickey.”

  Britt winked. “Barbie and Mickey—I like it.”

  He liked it, too, liked her and everything about her.

  “Better than Barbie and Ken.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Get your things, and let’s go, Barbie.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Go where?”

  “My hotel in Beverly Hills. Do you think I’m going to let you stay in this dump after it’s already been compromised?”

  “What happened to not being seen together?” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

  “Nobody connected to the Belkins or the Tattle-Tale is going to see us in Beverly Hills, especially not at that hotel. You can’t stay here, Britt. It’s not safe. It never was.”

  “All right. Give me a few minutes to pack my stuff.” She walked to the window and kicked aside the carpet. “Why don’t you get the painting?”

  As he crouched down to lift the floorboards, she threw open a set of accordion closet doors.

  “I take that back. My little jewelry case is missing.”

  He looked up from trying to squeeze his arm into the cavity. “Anything of value?”

  “No, just some costume pieces. Maybe Sergei told whoever broke in to make it look like a random burglary.” She
turned, holding a dress to her chest. “Do you think it could’ve been?”

  “Doubt it. It’s just too coincidental. How would a random thief know you were out tonight? Why would he chance it? I’m sorry but why would a burglar even hit a bachelor like this? You don’t even have a TV.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re not offending me.” She hauled a suitcase from the closet onto the daybed, which must double as her bed.

  He returned to the project of removing the painting, and Britt stopped shoveling clothes into her bag. “I don’t think you’re ever going to get your arm in there without removing the next floorboard. Hang on. I’ll get it.”

  She knelt beside him, and the ends of her hair tickled his arm as she bent over the gap in the floor. “Let me.”

  Her slim arm disappeared into the floor, and she retrieved the rolled-up paper and dropped it. “I think I need to find a better place than this.”

  “There’s a safe at the hotel. We’ll stash it there.” He tipped his head toward her bag. “Do you have everything you need?”

  “In case they come back, I don’t want it to look like I moved out, so I’ll leave a few things.”

  Britt finished packing and locked up the apartment.

  Before Alexei got on his bike, he said, “Pull up to the valet parking attendant, and leave your car with him. Meet me at the room.”

  About thirty minutes later, Alexei sprang for the door after a soft knock. “What took you so long?”

  Britt patted his arm as she breezed past him, wheeling her bag behind her. “He’s gotta get to my car, give me my ticket, I gotta give him a tip. These things take time.” She collapsed on the couch. “I’m exhausted.”

  “No kidding.” He held up the painting. “I’m going to put this in the closet for now and see about getting it locked up tomorrow. You can have the bathroom first, and the bed’s all yours.”

  “Mmm.” She fell onto her side and curled up her legs.

  When he went into the bedroom, he ran his hand along the freshly made bed and then turned down the covers. The maid had hung the shirt Britt had worn the night before on the back of a chair, and Alexei plucked it up and pressed it against his face. He inhaled Britt’s scent from the folds of the cotton.

  Was he crazy inviting her back here? What else could he do to keep her safe, other than send her home to North Carolina? Britt was no puppet to be jerked this way and that. She wanted to stay at the Tattle-Tale, and he wasn’t just making excuses for himself. He couldn’t order her about.

  He dropped the T-shirt on the chair and ducked into the closet. He propped up the painting in the corner in the back.

  When he returned to the sitting room of the suite, Britt’s cheek rested on her hand, and her hair trailed off the edge of the sofa.

  He nudged her shoulder once, and she murmured in her sleep.

  If he carried her to the bed, she might wake up, and she looked so peaceful, the little crease of worry between her brows finally smoothed out. If he carried her to the bed, he might be tempted to crawl in beside her.

  He shook out the blanket the maid had folded at the bottom of the sofa and tucked it around Britt. With one finger, he smoothed the hair from her face and whispered, “Good night, moya solnishka.”

  * * *

  BRITT ORDERED ANOTHER iced tea from the poolside waitress and stretched her arms over her head, reaching for the sun. She tipped her glasses on top of her head and squinted at a boisterous group at the other end of the pool deck. Was that a celebrity with his entourage?

  Sighing, she curled her toes. She could get used to lounging at a rooftop pool overlooking the palm-lined streets of Beverly Hills. The only improvement would be having Alexei beside her, but he’d headed out this afternoon for some secret meetings in an effort to solidify his fake identity and get invited to the party at the Belkins’ banquet hall.

  When the waitress returned with her tea, Britt held it over her body, letting the cold drops from the sweating glass hit the warm skin of her belly. The sun had finally broken through the marine layer, and it was baking all the pretty people at the pool—not that her mission included fun in the sun, but after the few days she’d had since meeting Alexei, she needed some downtime.

  Her immediate goal tonight included offering an excuse for being in the area when Jerome was murdered...and getting close to Mila to see if she’d gotten the tattoo yet.

  “Don’t get burned.”

  Shading her eyes, she glanced up at Alexei, towering over her. The crisp suit he wore fit him like a glove, and her mouth watered. She cleared her throat. “Sharp-dressed man.”

  “Playing the part.” He sat down on the edge of the chaise lounge next to hers and hunched forward, the material of his jacket stretching across his muscled shoulders.

  She blinked and adjusted her sunglasses. “Did you get your invitation to the party?”

  “Almost have it nailed down. I’m meeting an FOS at the Tattle-Tale tonight.”

  “An FOS?”

  “Friend of Sergei. Turns out Sergei has a lot of friends that I’m sure his father doesn’t even know about. Makes my job of infiltrating the inner circle easier, but Sergei had better hope Olav never finds out how fast and loose he’s been with his favors.”

  “Olav is Sergei’s father?”

  “Yes.”

  Alexei almost spit out the word, and it hung between them as Britt waited for the rest of the story on Belkin the elder. Several awkward seconds later, she realized she wasn’t going to get it.

  The chaise lounge creaked as Alexei rose. “Dinner in the room before you head out for your shift?”

  She nodded. Through narrowed eyes she watched Alexei’s back as he walked toward the elevator. He had something going on with the Belkin family he wasn’t sharing with her. It probably wasn’t any of her business, but she wished he’d trust her enough to tell her the whole truth behind his mission.

  Of course, once that mission came to its successful conclusion, she’d never see Alexei Ivanov again. She closed her eyes and pressed the cold glass against her cheek.

  And she wasn’t ready for that.

  * * *

  LATER THAT NIGHT, Britt scanned the Tattle-Tale as she grabbed a pad of paper from the top of the bar. She tapped Stepan on the arm with a pen. “Do you know if Jessie is working tonight?”

  He lifted and dropped one shoulder. “Jessie, Jessie, I don’t know Jessie. All girls the same here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you mean none of them will go out with you.”

  Stepan’s hand shot out, and he grabbed her wrist, cinching his fingers around it. “Not like the other guy, eh? I hear you supposed to go out with other guy. Didn’t work out.”

  She jerked her arm away from his grasp. “At least Jerome had some class.”

  “Had.”

  Britt spun away from Stepan with her heart pounding. So her story had gotten around already. She’d told a couple of the other waitresses about her ill-fated date with Jerome. Hopefully that would answer any lingering suspicions Sergei had about her presence on Sunset the night he’d had Jerome murdered.

  A tap on her shoulder had Britt clenching her fist and jerking around.

  Irina’s penciled-in brows shot up. “Are you okay, Barbie?”

  “Sorry.” Britt blew out a sigh. “I thought you were Stepan.”

  “That man—” Irina slid a sideways glance at the bar “—doesn’t belong here. We will get someone new soon. Let me know if he is bothering you. Can you come to the office with me for a minute?”

  “Of course.” Britt pressed a hand against her belly, where nervous knots twisted. Had they found out she was Lee’s sister? Was she going to be fired for dating Jerome? Had they noticed her talking to Alexei?

  Irina led her to Sergei’s office, where Britt had last been with Alexei, and waved her into the chair across from
Sergei’s desk.

  “I hear from a few other girls that you were going to meet Jerome the night he was killed.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Britt twisted her fingers in her lap. “I’m sorry if that’s not allowed. That’s why I didn’t tell anyone and then when...” She covered her eyes with one hand.

  “It’s not against rules, but we don’t encourage it. Jerome should’ve known better.” Irina reached up and twirled one of the studs in her ear. “Did you see anything that night? Should you talk to police? I don’t think they’ve found the man who killed Jerome.”

  Britt’s head shot up, and she widened her eyes. “I don’t want to talk to the police. I didn’t see anything. I was late, so I parked illegally. When I came around the corner of Sunset, the police were already there, and when I saw it was Jerome lying on the sidewalk, I ran away. I ducked into a bar down the street, and I...got drunk. I’m ashamed to say it, but I was freaked out. I-it was a robbery, right? That’s what I heard.”

  “It was robbery. His wallet and watch were stolen.”

  “I hope this isn’t going to get me fired. I really need this job right now. On top of everything, my car was towed that night, and I had to pay to get it out of the tow yard, and to add insult to injury, someone broke into my apartment last night and stole my jewelry.” She ended the last syllable on a whine for maximum effect.

  The door swung open, and Sergei stepped inside the small office, immediately overwhelming it with the scent of his cologne.

  Had he been listening at the door? She hoped so.

  “Nobody getting fired, Barbie Doll. You need extra cash? We need one more waitress.”

  “I’m already working tonight.” Britt half rose from her chair. “In fact, I’d better get out there now since the club already opened.”

  “I’m talking about another gig. We throw big party tomorrow night. One of the waitresses not going, so you take her place.” He reached over and patted her cheek. “Just no more dating bartenders, eh?”