“Oh, my mom knows I work for the Bureau of Land Management.” Chelsea leveled a meaningful look on Penni. “But she’s also one smart cookie, and when the Bureau of Land Management sends me out of the country, she worries. A lot.” She blew out blustery sigh. “The curse of being an only child. Now”—she picked up her menu—“enough about me, let’s talk about our friend upstairs.”
“Who is he?” Z asked eagerly.
After three months on assignment with nothing to show for his time, Chelsea knew he was more than ready to get this party started. And oh, how she loved seeing the light of anticipation glowing in his storm-cloud eyes. Z was one of those men who was classically handsome, with a broad forehead, high cheekbones, and a chiseled jaw—which made his ability to blend into his surroundings just that much more astonishing. But he was never more attractive than when he was neck deep in the middle of some crazy mission and his adrenaline was running.
“His name is…” She lowered her voice to something barely above a whisper even though it wasn’t really necessary. They were far enough away from the next table that their conversation couldn’t be easily overheard. In fact, thanks to the high, echoing ceilings and the tile floors, the noise inside the restaurant was something close to a dull roar. “Andrei Kozlov.”
“Sounds Russian,” Z said with a grunt.
“Is Russian,” she replied. Then added, “Ultra Russian,” for effect.
“For God’s sake, what does that even mean? Ultra Russian?” Z turned to address Penni. “In case it wasn’t obvious, Chels missed her calling. She was really meant for the stage.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Chelsea told him. “What’s life without a little drama, huh?” He opened his mouth to argue—he enjoyed arguing with her almost as much as she enjoyed taunting him—but she went back to the topic before he could. “When I say he’s ultra Russian, I mean he’s…” Again she glanced around before whispering, “KGB.”
For a couple of seconds, silence reigned around the table. Then, “I thought those guys went the way of the dinosaur when the Soviet Union collapsed,” Penni said, continuing to peruse her menu, pretending they were having the usual small talk while deciding what to eat.
“Officially they did,” Dan informed her. “But unofficially they formed the Federal Security Service, now known as the FSB.”
“Pfft.” Chelsea waved a hand of dismissal. “Words, shmerds. Once KGB, always KGB.”
“And you all think he’s here to…what?” Penni asked. “Buy Intel from—”
“Lord Voldemort,” Chelsea interrupted. She wasn’t superstitious by nature, but this mission made her twitchy. “Call me crazy, but if we are finally on the right track here, I don’t want to jinx us by saying his name out loud.”
“Who is Lord Voldemort?” Z asked, frowning.
Who is… “Didn’t you read Harry Potter?” she demanded, glaring at him.
“Uh, no,” he told her. “Because they’re children’s books and I’m a thirty-five-year-old man.”
She blinked, giving him the same look she would have if he’d been growing a pair of feet out of his ears. “You say that like it’s a valid excuse.”
“She means He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” Penni supplied helpfully. Chelsea had already convinced herself that she liked former Secret Service Agent Penni DePaul. But finding out the woman was a fellow Potterhead sealed the deal.
“You-Know-Who,” Chelsea added. And when Z just stared at her, she threw her hands in the air in disgust. “First no Guardians of the Galaxy and now no Harry Potter? Have you been living under a rock, or are you being willfully dense? Because I have to say, if it’s the latter, it’s not a good look on you.”
One corner of his lips quirked. Almost. That almost did it.
“Oh, you’re talking about Winter—” he started and she had to slap a hand over his mouth.
“Yessss,” she hissed. When she removed her hand, she curled her fingers around the spot his breath had warmed. Although Z gave her no indication that he considered her anything more than a colleague, a coworker, a…pest most days, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering how it would feel to kiss those finely formed lips, to press herself tight against that broad chest, to…
Ahem! Okay. Back to business. It was either that or her chair was going to melt out from under her.
“And yes to you too,” she said, turning back to Penni. “I think it’s highly likely Comrade Kozlov is here for the same reason we’re here—because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is in town. And this is the first time our Intel has panned out.”
Penni frowned before tucking her menu into her lap. “Which means you think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named”—Z sighed beside Chelsea, and she could tell he was annoyed at the overly long, overly complicated nickname—“is in possession of information the Russians might want.”
“That and then some,” Chelsea said, her stomach hollowing out at the thought of the havoc Winterfield had already wrought and the chaos he could still create. “The data he stole was immense. Worth a pretty penny to any foreign government, be it friend or foe.”
“Christ almighty,” Penni breathed.