“Yes. It was nothing,” Travis said, taking a sip of coffee. “See, I even forgot about it.”
“It seems likesomethingif even the innkeeper, who was not at the bar last night, already heard about it by 8:00 a.m. the following day.”
“Small town. You’re getting worked up about nothing.”
“You overreact about everything. I asked you this simple question. You get defensive and say I’m getting worked up.”
He considered what she said. He did overreact. A lot. “Caitlin, I’m really sorry I didn’t mention it to you. I don’t want to fight about this.”
“We’re not fighting; we’re having a discussion.”
Travis tried not to grin as Caitlin shoved a spoonful of pancake into her mouth and chewed angrily. He was oddly pleased that she appeared to be jealous because that would mean she cared enough to feel that way. Jealousy was a ploy he didn’t like using though, because he knew how hurtful the feeling could be, and how easily it could backfire.
“I wish you’d been honest with me,” she added when Travis didn’t say anything.
“Caitlin, this has nothing to do with my honesty or my faithfulness,” Travis said. “It slipped my mind. She came on to me, yes, but that was nothing compared to what almost happened to you.”
“Hmm . . .” She took another bite of pancake, lost in deep thought.
He decided to say no more. The more he tried to defend his innocent omission of events yesterday, the more likely he’d be to put his foot in his mouth.
“I don’t like this feeling,” Caitlin murmured finally.
Shit. What now?
“What, babe?”
“I don’t like women coming on to you; it makes me jealous.” She eyed him possessively. “I get where you’re coming from now.”
Thank Christ. No games. Just the simple truth. God, how he loved her.
Travis covered her hand and gave it a squeeze. “No one else for me but you, babe. They can strip naked in front of me, and it’ll be like I have blinders on.”
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Jeez, let’s not exaggerate.” She stared at his plate. “You gonna eat that?”
Olga Milekhin parkedher vehicle near the entrance to a hiking trail in Kienberg Park located east of Berlin. It was mostly deserted on the weekends since the businesses around the area were closed. She exited her car and walked up the unpaved path, her heart beating hard against her breastbone.
They had Pavlo. Her husband called her the day before, and it was implied that if she wouldn’t cooperate and meet the associate of whoever had him, she would never see her husband again. She couldn’t afford to lose him, too.
She spotted her contact seated on a bench that faced the rolling hills of the park. As she neared, Olga noted the man was dressed impeccably in a custom-made Italian suit, and his shoes were patent leather Oxfords. His dark hair was longish and curled at his nape, and his eyes were shielded by black-framed sunglasses. The man she was meeting was no underling.
Without another word, Olga sat beside him and asked, “How’s Pavlo?”
“He’s in good hands, Ms. Milekhin.” The man’s deep-timbered voice had a commanding presence. She found herself believing him.
“Who . . . do you work for?”
“The Zorin Bratva.”
Oh, God. What did she get herself into?
“You’re . . .”
“You know me as the Angel of Death.”
“Dmitry Yerzov,” she whispered, fear seizing her entire body. Belatedly, she realized she had unconsciously moved away from him.
“That’s right. I’m their enforcer, among other things. Nowthat you know who I am, let me tell you what I need.” Yerzov waved his hand as if impatient to move things along. “You have a kill code for a contract on Caitlin Kincaid’s head.”
