She backed away and he watched her, let her.
“There’s a meeting tomorrow at Petrovka House—a mansion at the end of a street by the same name. Big players, including Anton Segorski and Yevgeny Markov. The prime minister will be there.”
Jude nodded. “The oil rights?”
“Among other things.”
“Why are you giving me the location?” He didn’t think their kiss had changed anything. Ella was still going to run. What she didn’t know was that Jude had just changed tactics.
“Because there’s a particular player of interest to Endgame Ops who will also be there.”
Jude’s skin prickled. “Who?”
“Loretta Bernstein,” she responded with zero hesitation.
“I thought she went boom in Beirut,” he said.
Ella smiled at that. Jude almost rubbed his chest at the ache that settled there. “I think we all know Loretta’s good at what she does. She’s like a cockroach surviving nuclear fallout. She always turns up.”
Jude grunted at that.
Ella spun and began to walk away. Jude stayed where he was, something telling him he needed to let her go this time. The meeting tomorrow was huge, and whatever the hell she was doing for the Piper was big enough that she’d betrayed her team for it. There was also the fact that she could obviously take care of herself. Had been doing it for over a year now.
Before she got too far, she pivoted and turned back to him. “I never left you, Jude. Not really. Let me finish this, and I’ll do my best to come back to you.”
He didn’t say anything because she was gone just that fast, her words ringing in the empty air.
Chapter 9
“Ella, I’m so glad to see you,” Anton Segorski chanted as he stood and walked toward her.
Fear settled at the base of her spine and spread through her body. He looked her up and down and then did it again. She’d worn Givenchy, the flaring skirt of her dress giving her ample room for the H&K strapped to her thigh. Her bodice was heavily beaded, and the entire dress was crimson. The same as the blood that would no doubt be spilled here tonight.
She licked her lips coyly and wished she hadn’t lost the taste of Jude on them. She allowed the man to air-kiss her but then stepped back and turned to greet the man she’d received orders last night from Dresden to kill—Yevgeny Markov.
Dresden had been furious when he’d found out Svetlana had been slaughtered. Of course, Ella had said nothing about how she’d obviously been a double agent, working for them both but leaving only a little something after death to the Piper. Ella hadn’t sent the thumb drive to the Piper, but to Brody Madoc.
Brody had promised to ascertain what was on the drive and get back to her. She was still waiting. It was either encrypted and Brody had to decipher the code before he could open it, or Brody didn’t have her back anymore. Ella doubted the latter. The former was more likely. She and Brody had been through hell in Ukraine at the hands of Vasily Savidge. The bond they’d formed would stand the test of time.
She hated to ask anything of the man who’d lost most of his voice to the tender care of Savidge, but he was all she had. Jude was a no-go because he’d take the information straight to King. Their team leader had his loyalty, and after the kiss she and Jude had shared last night, Ella seriously doubted Jude wanted to do anything but protect her.
“You look lovely, Ella,” Markov intoned, his nasal voice sending chills down her spine. She’d heard that voice in nightmares. Markov had enjoyed watching Savidge perpetuate his torture. He’d been especially fond of watching Ella scream under Savidge’s knife.
She shook it all off and smiled at Markov. “Where’s Svetlana?”
Markov went still, and Ella wondered if she’d screwed up. “You know Svetlana?”
Ella smiled. “No, but I know of her. She’s your wife, Yevgeny. Dresden would have my head were I not polite.”
He nodded as if that made sense. “Sadly, my wife can’t be here tonight. Perhaps you’ll meet her another time.” Then he moved away and sat down beside the prime minister.
Ella wouldn’t be meeting Svetlana Markov anywhere ever again. But she couldn’t let the woman’s husband know she knew that. It was interesting he was hiding her death though.
Ella took the seat assigned her beside Segorski. Two other people entered from a side door—good old Loretta Bernstein and a man Ella had never seen in the flesh—Baron Meadows, a former CIA operative turned traitor to Russia.
Meadows had evaded capture and kill by the United States for twenty years. He’d sold secrets related to some of the United States’ top aeronautical plans, and he’d given rise to a league of hackers who did their best to crack into any United States database they could locate. He wasn’t quite public enemy number one—that was Horace Dresden—but he was in the top five. He’d been a player on the international stage for years, although it looked as if that was changing.
Loretta glanced at Ella and raised her chin, but her eyes remained blank until she turned her gaze to Baron. Then she became a fawning lover. Baron drank the attention and smiled at Ella, gaze lingering on her cleavage as insinuation flared in his eyes.
“Shall we get to business?” the prime minister inquired in Russian. Ella understood Russian. So did Segorski and Markov. Loretta and Baron glanced at him questioningly.
“Fucking Americans,” the prime minister snapped. “Shall we get to business?” he asked again in perfect English.
They both nodded and smiled. Ella really wanted to know what Loretta’s game was here and hoped she’d get a chance to ask her.
Everyone’s head swiveled to Ella.
She took a drink of wine and a deep breath, smiling even as her gaze sought every corner, searching for exit points. She’d memorized
