Page 2 of Protecting You
Most of her clients were private detectives who needed information that was available on the internet but who didn’t have the technical expertise to locate it themselves. Alyssa, given enough breadcrumbs, could dig up almost anything or anyone.
Except paying clients. They weren’t so easy to find.
“Tell me about the job,” she said.
Charles pulled a lighter from the inside pocket of his jacket. It wasn’t a plastic throwaway but tarnished silver with a vintage patina. He flipped open the top, lit it, then snapped the lid closed, snuffing out the flame, repeating the action a few more times. “I seek a Russian,” he finally said. “I have an IP address and the names of some of his business associates. I’ve heard rumors about his family, though I don’t know how accurate the whispers are. The man lives in St. Petersburg, and I believe he traveled to Munich last fall.”
The server delivered Charles’s wine. He swirled and sniffed it, as only wine connoisseurs do, then took a tiny sip. He nodded to the server. “This will do.”
“Very good, sir.”
Alyssa did her best not to roll her eyes.
She waited for Charles to continue, but he said nothing else, just opened the lighter, lit the flame, and closed it again.
“That’s it?” she asked. “That’s all you have?”
“Surely, it is enough for you. You’ve proved yourself quite capable. I hired you because I was led to believe you could find anybody on the Internet.”
“Who told you that?” He’d never shared how he'd gotten her name. She’d assumed he’d found her through her online ads.
Charles closed the lighter in his fist. “A man I had an interaction with in Germany last year. He was very tall with dark brown hair and a short beard. I believe he works for the CIA.”
Michael? The description fit her cousin, and he’d been in Germany in the fall. Who else in the CIA would recommend her?
Nobody knew her skills like Michael did. Nobody asked her to use them more than he did either, usually for free.
Not that she minded, considering her work had helped save lives. And some of those people were now part of the family—Leila, Jasmine, Eliza, and little Levi.
If Michael trusted this guy enough to give him her name, then Charles must be a decent fellow.
“Are you saying you cannot help me?”
“It’s not a lot to go on.” But she’d found people with less. “It’ll take time and, as is always the case, I won’t break any laws.”
“Certainly not. I wouldn’t ask you to.” By the way his lips tugged up on one side, he was saying the words but didn’t mean them.
Whatever he expected, Alyssa wasn’t going to prison for Charles Sanders or anybody else.
The appetizers were delivered, but Alyssa didn’t look away from the man across the table.
Without asking, he served her a bit of the lobster appetizer, then took some for himself. He cut a piece off and swallowed it. “Excellent selection. Please, tell me your objections.”
“I’m not sure I can do it.”
“Of course you can, Alyssa.” He pulled a square of paper from his jacket pocket and held it across the table. “Go ahead.”
She unfolded the note and stared at the number he’d written down. All those zeros. This one job would cover months of expenses. It would justify her existence. Justify her decision to quit her job.
It was more than he’d ever paid her before. Much more than she would have asked.
Which roused her suspicions, but she’d made her boundaries clear.
“I’ll initiate the transfer into your account. You’ll get the same when you deliver the man’s name,” Charles said. “If you get a name to me within two days, I’ll double it.”
“What happens if I can’t do it?” She waved the paper between them. “I assume you’ll want this back?”
“Certainly not.” He flicked his hands toward her, brushing away her question. “That is for your trouble. I know you’ll do your best, and if you can’t find him”—he shrugged—“no harm, no foul, as they say.”
