"There were a great many female employees. Too many."

Alex thrust his hands in his pockets, a ripple of unease moving through him. "Surely you can never have too many female employees?"

"Don't be a prick," Eva said with some disgust. "And stop making everything into a joke. Especially this."

Alex glanced at her. There was a small silver spark burning in her gaze, a glimpse of the intensity she normally concealed under biting sarcasm. Jesus. He knew personal when he saw it and he was looking at it right now. Which made it even more imperative he leave it alone. It was either that or he got pissed off, and where that would lead was anyone's guess. Nowhere good probably.

"Angel," Zac murmured before Alex could say anything. "It's all right."

She blinked, then looked away suddenly, untucking her legs and shifting to get off the desk. "You guys stay here and argue about it all you like, but if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some shit done."

"Eva." Zac's voice held an edge of command he very rarely used, but it stopped Eva in her tracks. "Wait."

Interesting. Whatever was going on between those two, Alex had no idea, but he was intrigued. Especially when he'd never heard Zac use that tone with her. And even more interesting, Alex had never seen Eva actually obey.

She was standing near the desk, a mutinous look on her face. "What?" she demanded, glancing back at Zac.

"Where are you going?"

Eva flicked Alex a strange glance, like they were complicit in something, though what Alex had no idea. Then she said, "Someone has to do something. And since you're too busy thinking and Alex is too busy pretending he doesn't give a fuck, it has to be me."

An unfamiliar feeling turned over inside him, a discomfort he couldn't immediately identify. "Please don't tell me you're thinking of going to Monte Carlo," he said.

"Okay, I won't tell you I'm thinking of going to Monte Carlo."

The discomfort increased. Eva only left New York if she was going to Gabriel's lodge or Zac's island in the Caribbean. And then only in Zac's company. "Eva," he said. "You can't."

"Why not? You're not doing anything and this is important."

"No." Zac had risen to his feet behind his desk. "Angel, you know you can't do this."

Color had crept into her cheeks, that strange look in her eyes pinning Alex to the spot. As if she'd recognized something in him. As if she knew. "Some people don't deserve to get away with it, Alex," she said quietly. "Some people deserve a bullet. And if you won't do it, I will."

Tension gathered in the air, thick and tight, like the tension gathering inside of him.

He knew what she was talking about. Had she heard the truth when he'd spoken? Had she experienced something similar?

He didn't want to look at her, didn't want to see the confirmation in her eyes. He'd never wanted to know her past like he'd never wanted anyone to know his. Because everything he did was about leaving that past behind. Pretending it was over and done with and didn't matter anymore. But whatever had happened to Eva still resonated for her. Still mattered. A reminder that the past was always there, a ghost that would never ever be exorcised no matter how many drugs you took or people you screwed.

But maybe it was too much for her as well, because her gaze flickered away from his at the last minute. As if she couldn't bear too much reality either.

Conscious of Zac's attention shifting from sharp to razor-like, Alex said, "You can't shoot someone without proof, Eva. And you can't get proof unless you get close to them."

"Then give me those dice and I'll get close."

"When you can't go anywhere without your faithful guard dog?"

Her color deepened. "I can-"

"More important, though, unless you can play a good hand of poker, you're not going to get anywhere near that casino."

A silence fell.

Eva's gaze shifted from him to Zac.

"No," Zac said. "I can do many things, angel, but poker isn't one of them."

Her attention returned to Alex. "Then it has to be you. You have to go to the casino and you have to get in on that game." The look in her eyes sharpened. "Then you can get that proof. Then you can put a bullet in their head."

Alex came out of the building, eyes dark as a gathering storm and the smile on his face like a tiger's. He didn't often get into tempers, but she could tell he was in one now.

"Get in the car, darling," he ordered as she straightened from where she was leaning against the side of the limo. "I have a bone to pick with you."

Katya did as she was told. She couldn't imagine what "bone" he had to pick with herit couldn't possibly be about the job, because she knew he had nothing to complain about when it came to her professionalismbut clearly she was going to find out. Regardless, she'd be leaving soon anyway, and then it wouldn't matter.

She'd be on her way back to Moscow and Mikhail.

As the door shut behind Alex and he shifted onto the seat opposite so he was facing her, Katya folded her hands in her lap and met his stormy blue gaze. Obviously his meeting with his friends had not gone well. "What is it, sir?"

"You're exspecial forces."

That was in her resume. Not a big secret. "Yes, sir."

"But you still feel loyalty to them?"

Interesting question. Why was he asking? "I'm sorry, sir, but how is this relevant?"

He leaned back against the seat, stretched his arms along the back of it. "You're not going back to Moscow for a family emergency. You're going back to rescue a colleague. Someone by the name of Mikhail Vasin."

Shock ran cold fingers down her spine. The information about Mikhail was classified. Extremely classified. No one should know about it, least of all a selfish billionaire playboy with a healthy disregard for his own life.

He was smiling, that casual smile that hid the sometimes terrifyingly perceptive man underneath. "I know, it's classified, right?"

She should say nothing of course, neither confirm nor deny, since she couldn't afford either when it came to Mikhail. Yet saying nothing seemed pointless. If Alex knew who Mikhail was then he knew everything.

"How did you find this information?" she asked, trying not to let her shock show.

Alex lifted a careless shoulder. "A friend."

"Mr. Rutherford."

When Alex had told her he had a meeting at Black Star that morning, she'd had no idea it would be about her, and yet that was the only explanation. She didn't know Zac Rutherford personally, but she'd had some contact in conjunction with Alex. Ex-military, that was for certain, and a mercenary too. Had spent some time in a Russian prison from the looks of his tattoos. A dangerous man, she'd always thought, and that was even more certain now, especially if he could get hold of classified information like this at a moment's notice.

"Mr. Rutherford, indeed," Alex agreed. "So there's no point in denying anything. I know it all already."

"That information is-"

"Classified. Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand. "I'm not interested in how classified is it or even how Zac got hold of it. All I'm interested in is how it pertains to our little situation here." His mouth curved. "And we do have a little situation."

Katya sat up straighter. "There is no situation."

"Sure there is. The situation is that you lied to me."

Anger stirred. She ignored it. "I do not lie."

"You told me you had a family emergency. But Mikhail Vasin is not a family member."

"No, he's not blood related. But blood ties are not all that makes someone part of your family."

An expression she didn't understand crossed Alex's features. He looked away for a second, and when he glanced back the expression was gone. "He's a friend then?"

No. He was more than that. He was a fellow soldier and the man the General had wanted for her future husband. She didn't love him, but that didn't matter. Love was a fickle emotion and played no part in her decision-making processes. Loyalty and respect carried far more weight, were far more enduring.

But then there had been that mission, the one into Chechnya to take out a potential terrorist threat. The one they both knew had to be done. And Mikhail had disappeared.

And her father had put his loyalty to his government before his loyalty to his family. Before his loyalty to her.

Katya looked into Alex St. James's mocking blue eyes. This man wouldn't understand loyalty. Or respect. Or faith. He had nothing and no one but himself. What was the point in explaining anything to him? "Yes," she said levelly. "He is a friend."

"Pretty close friend to risk your life saving."

"I risk my life for people I don't know or like every day."

"Ah, but let's not kid ourselves that's all about your altruism. You get paid very well for that."

No, of course he wouldn't understand. He didn't have that drive for purpose. For a life spent in service to the greater good. He didn't have a God. Like the many Americans she'd worked for, his only god was himself. "Money is not the only reason for living."

He gave a short, hard laugh. "No, fuck, you got that right. But you have to admit, it makes things a hell of a lot easier."

She couldn't argue with that. It did. "I do what I do for reasons other than money."

Alex tilted his head, the cold white light of winter coming through the windows glossing his black hair. "There are other reasons?" He looked mystified, but she knew he was only pretending. He did a lot of that.

"You would not understand," she said.

Another of those fleeting shadows passed through his eyes, the ones she couldn't interpret. "You're right. I don't." He shifted restlessly on the seat, lifting one ankle onto the opposite knee, the dark wool of his suit pulling tight over muscular thighs, though why she should notice that she couldn't imagine. "So tell me more about your boyfriend Mik."

Of course he would minimize it. He did that with everything. "His name is Mikhail." Misha, to her. "And he is not my boyfriend."

Alex didn't even have the grace to look embarrassed. "Whatever. I know he's a Russian special forces agent that went missing on a mission to Chechnya. A mission the Russian government denies all knowledge of. I know he's been missing for two years, which is approximately the same time you've been working as a bodyguard." He shifted again, pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking down at the screen, his thumb scrolling through what looked like a document. "In fact, not only did you leave the Russian army; you left Russia entirely a couple of weeks after he went missing."

"I'm not sure how this is relevant."

But his gaze missed nothing. "Why did you leave? You're a soldier, Katya. The same, apparently, as your father. Soldiers don't leave their families, their units, or their countries just like that."

She'd seen him do this before, focus that blue gaze on someone as if that person were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. As if he wanted to understand them more than he wanted his next breath. It made everyone he turned it on his slave. But she'd never been his object of fascination. And she didn't find it attractive. She found it threatening.

Mainly because she had far too many secrets.

She kept her expression neutral, the way the General had always taught her, making sure nothing showed on her face, because that's what a soldier was. A blank slate for orders to be written on. "I'm not sure what you expect with these questions."

"I expect what everyone does when they ask a questionan answer."

"In that case, I left because I wanted to travel."

There was a pause, the silence in the car becoming tense.

He'd become motionless, staring at her. Something she noticed he did at the gaming tables when he was trying to read someone.

You really have noticed an awful lot about him.

Of course she'd noticed. He was her client and knowing him and his habits was part of her job.

"No," he said slowly. "That's not it. They wouldn't rescue him. They let you down. That was your break from the church, wasn't it, darling? God didn't answer your prayers and so you lost your faith."

She kept her expression utterly blank, not letting him see how close to the bone he'd gotten. Because he was right. Her father's refusal even to consider a rescue mission had shattered her faith in both him and her country. No soldier left behind, he'd always told her. And then he'd become part of the government and politics became more important than a few soldiers' lives.

More important than you.

But no, she wouldn't think about that. Wouldn't let any hint of what she felt cross her face. Alex St. James's questions were nothing compared to Konstantinov's endurance training or what the teachers in the military school where she'd learned how to strip an AK-47 in seconds flat had done. Teaching her to remain silent and stoic even in the face of pain. "I'm sure that was not in the report Mr. Rutherford gave you."

Alex's eyes narrowed for a moment, assessing. Then he smiled again, his posture becoming more relaxed. Which was not a sign she was off the hook, as she well knew. Merely that he was trying another tactic. "You're right. It wasn't. I was merely extrapolating. Whatever your reasons for leaving, the fact remains that since Mr. Vasin is not part of your family, then your reason for breaking your contract is not acceptable. Family emergencies only work when they concern family."

Katya stiffened. She didn't need his agreement in order to end her contract of course, but it wouldn't be a good look. It was also possible he'd take legal action, again not a good look, especially for the agency that had hired her. "There is no need to make this difficult, sir," she said coldly. "I do not respond well to threats."

He laughed, in the way he always did when things got tense. "I'm not threatening you, darling. I'm flattering you. Your skills are unrivalled and I don't want to give them up."

"All good things must come to an end."

"No, they don't. They can last however long you fucking want them to. However long I fucking want them to." He sat forward suddenly, elbows on his knees. "Which brings me to my point. I have a proposition for you, Katya mine."

There was something about his posture that bothered her, though she couldn't put her finger on what. Almost as if he was too close and his nearness made her uneasy, like it had back in his apartment that morning.

Ignoring her unease, she frowned. Any proposition made by Alex St. James was always to be viewed with some mistrust. "What kind of proposition?"

"The kind where you do a little something for me. And I'll do a little something for you."

"Such as?"

"I want you to work out the remainder of your contract, which now includes an extra special mission that should provide you with an outlet for those very impressive skills of yours. And in return"-his gaze met hers, sharp, piercing, which made her want to get out her gun and point it at him-"I will help you find your Mikhail."

CHAPTER THREE.