Her nostrils flared as she glared at me. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” I smiled.
Her eyes grew wide. “What do you want with me?” A slight hint of fear shook her voice.
Taking out the picture of Anton, I showed it to her. “Have you ever seen this man before?”
She let out her breath, almost seeming relieved.
Hmm…wonder what that’s about.
Flicking her eyes to the photo, she studied it, her gaze puzzled. “Yes, he’s a regular. Or, well, he was. I haven’t seen him in a few days, come to think of it.” She swallowed hard. Her eyes shifted to her manager, to the door, anywhere except me or the photo.
I sipped my coffee and let her stew for a minute. “I doubt he’ll be back, and for your sake, it’s a good thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes flashed sharply. God, her fucking eyes were beautiful.
Ignoring her question, I moved to the next one on my list. “Did he ever talk to you? Bother you in any way?” At this point, I was simply looking for information. I wasn’t about to inform her that her potential old dance partner thought she was related to a Russian mobster. Hell, I wasn’t even 100 percent sure she was related to the man.
“No. He’d just come in and order a Danish and coffee. Is that a crime?” She couldn’t stop staring at my tattoo.
I tilted my head to the side, meeting her gaze. “No, not at all. A bit boring, though.” I shrugged my shoulders, somehow relieved yet bothered by the fact he hadn’t tried to strike up a conversation. Maybe he was instructed not to, or she had been ruled out already as a possibility.
Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, a subtle shift in her body that conveyed her growing irritation. “Boring?” she huffed.
I leaned back, smiling. “Yes, having the same thing every day. Variety is the spice, so to speak.”
Her lips tightened and her eyes sparked with defiance. “I’m not sure where this conversation is going, but you are incredibly judgmental.”
I straightened and tried to give her my most concerned look. “You think so?”
Her voice rose an octave. “Clearly. Just because someone orders a Danish and coffee every day doesn’t make them boring. I’ll have you know, we sell the best Danishes for hundreds of miles.”
She obviously took the comment personally, and I had to find out why.
“Hundreds of miles, huh? Is that a proven fact, or do you get paid extra to say that?” I teased.
“I get paid to do my job, which, somehow, includes talking to you today when I’d rather not. And, for your information, I handmake the Danishes we sell.”
Stretching my back, I smirked when her eyes followed my every move. “Well, if I’d known that, I would have asked for one. Can I have one of your Danishes?” I inquired low and seductively, leaning toward her.
She flushed a light shade of pink at the tone of my voice, catching my drift.She bakes. We could add that to her list of activities. I already knew from Nik’s files that she attended dance classes at a local studio, worked a second server job, and went to church on Sundays.
“We’re sold out, sorry. Are we done here?” she sneered.
“Not yet. I have a few more questions for you.”
She blinked and worked her lower lip between her teeth. As good as she was at trying to appear nonchalant, she was getting nervous.Interesting. Before I could ask her my next question, she blurted out one of her own.
“Tell me something. Are you a cop?” She crossed her arms again, which only amplified her breasts.
Raising an eyebrow at her, I said, “No. What does that have to do with me asking you a few questions?” It was fascinating watching her mind work to steer the conversation. She was proving to be more and more entertaining the longer I talked with her.
“Well, considering this is America, I don’t have to answer any of your questions unless you’re a cop and have a warrant. Out of courtesy to my manager, I indulged you. Now, if you don’t mind.”
The chair scraped across the floor as she stood to leave. I leaned back in my chair as she eyed her blade on the table next to my hand. I knew she wouldn’t walk off without it. Somehow, it had significance to her. I’d seen that look on Ivan’s face in regard to his blades.
I smiled up at her. “You have something against cops?” I ran my finger down the handle of her blade.
