‘Very funny.’
‘He’s not coming with us?’ Ryker indicated Sergei who remained in the driver’s seat.
‘He’ll wait down the road. We don’t want him spoiling our fun, do we?’
‘Definitely not.’
Eva took the lead and headed across the street to a quaint tapas bar that had several blue-painted hanging baskets in full bloom across its front. The couple walked inside and the smell of freshly cooked food caught Ryker’s attention.
The bar looked like it had been recently refurbished, carrying on the blue colour scheme of the outside, but the style was old-school; wood-panelling, meats hanging from the bar, bottles of wine stashed in racks along one wall. A chalkboard displayed the day’s tapas. Ryker’s belly growled thinking about it.
They took a seat by the window, away from the only other couple in the bar, and ordered two glasses of red wine from the waiter.
The wine came and Ryker gave in to temptation and ordered a plate of chorizos. Some cheese too.
Half an hour later, Ryker had finished off the food and was working through a second of glass of wine and a third basket of bread. The alcohol and food was making him feel contented, but still focused.
The chat was banal and a little flirty. What more would he expect from Eva? It hadn’t escaped his attention that every so often she’d shuffle a little closer to him. Her shoulder, arm, leg was within an inch of Ryker and more than once she’d accidentally brushed him.
Accidentally? Ryker thought. No, bad choice of wording. ‘It’s quiet.’
‘It’s early. It’ll get busy later on.’
‘You’re a regular here?’ Ryker asked, having noticed the warm smile and overtly friendly manner of the waiter.
‘I own it.’
Ryker couldn’t help but smirk at that.
‘Oh get over yourself,’ Eva said. ‘It’s not what you think. I used my own money to buy this place.’
‘Your own money?’
‘My. Own. Money. I bought it, a derelict shell. I put together the plans, oversaw the refurbishment, found the staff. My father had nothing to do with any of it.’
‘It’s nice. You’ve done a good job.’
‘I know I have.’ Eva glared at him. ‘Perhaps you need to rethink who I am.’
‘Perhaps I do.’
‘I love this place. This village. This is who I am. Not what you see in Marbella. Not the money.’
‘Not the mansion or the pool or the cars.’
‘No. I don’t just own this bar, I have a restaurant too. I’m making a life for myself. I’m working, doing things I love to do. I help out with local activities too. Charities, foundations.’
‘The dancing?’
‘Yes. There you go. Every other day we – the others at least – perform in one of the local towns. They get a small payment for each performance. I don’t. The whole group is funded by donations, mostly from me. I pay to be a part of that. For the other dancers to be a part of it.’
Ryker nodded, impressed with her passion.
‘And I may live in a mansion in Marbella, but my grandma has lived in this village for nearly ninety years. It’s her home. It feels like my home too. My real home.’
‘But you don’t live here.’
‘No.’ She looked down at her drink. ‘My father won’t let me. He wants me with him.’
‘Why?’
‘Because... it’s dangerous.’
‘And why would that be?’
Eva paused before answering. ‘Who do you think my father is exactly?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out.’
‘So ask me? What do you want to know?’
‘Why did your father come to Spain?’
‘To make a living.’
‘Why couldn’t he do that in Russia?’
‘Have you seen what’s happened since the collapse of the Soviet Union? Lots of us have left, seeking a new life.’
‘Away from the watchful eyes of the Kremlin.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘So is he pro-Moscow or anti-Moscow?’
Eva gave Ryker a cold stare before answering. ‘Anti.’
‘So they hounded him out. He ran off to Spain.’
‘Do you hate all Russians, Mr Ryker, or is it only rich Russians?’
‘I don’t hate all Russians, or even all rich Russians. But I do mistrust a lot of people.’
‘Why do you mistrust my father?’
‘Because he’s very rich. And I’m sorry to say that a lot of men that rich don’t get there through playing by the rules.’
‘A bit far-fetched, don’t you think?’
‘No. I don’t. Plus there’s an ongoing murder investigation that he’s trying everything he can to distance himself from. And because yesterday minutes after leaving your house I was attacked by two men.’
Eva looked unsure. ‘I didn’t know about that.’
‘I’d be upset if you did.’
‘Why do you think it was my father?’
‘A hunch.’
‘Is that it?’
‘No. After being attacked yesterday, I’m pretty sure at least one policeman in Marbella, where you live, is bent. And now all of a sudden you have your own personal bodyguard to take you out for drinks. A bodyguard who I’m certain has a dark past. I see it in his eyes. It’s a look only certain people have. People who have seen things. People who have done things.’
‘Do you have it?’ Eva asked with a devilish stare. ‘The look?’
‘Yes, Eva. I do.’
Eva held Ryker’s gaze as she sipped on her glass of wine. Despite her battle to keep in control, Ryker could feel the mood of the conversation shifting. He could sit there all evening drinking and flirting – clearly that had been Eva’s intention – but it wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Ryker wasn’t in Spain to hook up. He wanted answers from Eva.
‘You’re quite the conspiracist, aren't you?’ Eva said.
‘No. I just say what I see.’
‘He’s not what you think. My father.’
‘You have no idea what I think.’
‘Actually I reckon I do.’
‘Then let me ask you this. One simple question. And I want a truthful answer. Can you do that?’
Eva looked doubtful, her normal confidence escaping her. ‘Yes.’
‘How long has your father been working for the Russian mafia?’
CHAPTER 29
Eva looked scared. ‘That’s quite a thing to say to someone,’ she said, trying her best to regain her composure.
‘I say what I see.’
‘And can you explain why you would think that?’
She sounded truly outraged. Offended. But it didn’t deter Ryker one bit. He was quite certain of his deduction.
Ryker sat back as the waiter came over to remove their empty wine glasses. Eva ordered another. Ryker asked for a coffee. Two wines were plenty. He didn’t want his judgment clouded by alcohol. Not now.
‘Let’s start simply then,’ Ryker said. ‘How long have you known Sergei?’
‘I don’t know,’ Eva said, frowning. ‘Two, maybe three years.’
‘He came over from Russia?’