Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) (6 page)

     She felt his stare on her and turned to face him, surprised at the intense scrutiny and worry etched on his face. His blue eyes were searing as he studied her, and his hand reached out toward her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, his calloused flesh warm and soothing on her flushed skin.

     "You should not lie to me,
moj dosadnyj malen'kij bich
."

     "Lie? I'm not—"

     "Something has upset you. Maybe you think nobody else will notice, but I know you. I see. So what has happened?"

     "Nothing. I just...I felt a little dizzy and needed some air. That's all." He didn't believe her. She could see it clearly in his eyes, in the look he gave her, a look that was almost as unsettling as his words.

     He
didn't
know her. How could he? They had just met each other, and except for that night in her apartment, their contact had been on a professional basis.

     He did
not
know her.

     But she questioned her own instincts as she met his gaze, as she saw the worry and concern clearly written there. Yes, they had just met each other, but they had been together for long hours at a time, all day, every day. He laughed and joked with her, shamelessly flirted with her, asked her questions about herself and her life as he shared the same information with her. And she realized that she knew more about him than she thought. Was it that crazy that he would think the same of her?

     Yes. Yes, the idea was crazy. He didn't know her. He only knew the person she was pretending to be, he only knew her as his personal assistant, his babysitter, his annoying little pest. He did not know the real her, and why she was really with him.

     To pry into his life. To dig so deep there were no secrets left.

     No, he didn't know the real her. And he never could.

     "You will not tell me why you are upset. I will not be nosy again. But, it is now my job to make you forget, so we will go shopping." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss, a brief touch of his lips against hers that caught her so completely by surprise that she didn't have a chance to react. She was still blinking her disbelief when he grabbed her hand and led her outside to his car.

     He still wanted to go shopping. Of course he would, he had no idea what had just happened. And she couldn't tell him. But she couldn't just follow blithely along. Not now, not when she had to confront Denny and demand answers. But she had no idea how to get out of it.

     Then she realized that maybe the best thing she could do would be to go shopping. To just act like nothing had happened. To keep such a close eye on Nikolai, to stay so close to him that he would look at her with that amused expression on his face and call her his annoying little pest as she did her best to make sure he was safe.

     And then, when they were done...then, she would go after Denny and get to the bottom of whatever game he was playing.

     The building was quiet, nearly deserted at this late hour. Bobbi had counted on that, realizing that showing up at such a late hour, unannounced, would work to her advantage. Her casual loafers made little noise on the carpeted hallway as she walked straight toward Denny's office. A light had been on in Howard's office, and she had briefly toyed with the idea of going there first, but she wanted to use whatever element of surprise she might have.

     She was not under the impression that nobody knew she was here. Not in this building. She could use that to her advantage as well if she played it right.

     Light seeped around the edges of Denny's office door. Bobbi paused, listening for voices and hearing none, then continued forward, pushing the door open with just enough force. As she suspected, Denny was behind his desk, his gaze focused on the computer screen at his side. He looked up at her sudden entrance, his eyes registering momentary surprise before he leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a steady gaze.

     "Bobbi. I didn't expect to see you here."

     She walked inside and shut the door behind her, then leaned against it, her arms folded across her chest as she fixed him with her own stare. "Didn't you? Why don't I believe that?"

     Silence stretched around them as she watched him, looking for any movement, any telltale sign that would let her see more than he wanted her to. His expression was more drawn than usual, small signs of stress etched at the corner of his eyes. A hint of beard darkened his jaw, and his hair looked as if he had run his hands through it in frustration then smoothed it out. It wasn't his normally pulled-together look, but not completely unlike him if he was working a particularly complicated case.

     "If there's a reason you're here, please share it. I don't have time for games right now."

     "Games?" She pushed away from the door and crossed to his desk in a few angry strides, leaning over it far enough that he actually backed his chair away a few inches. "Games? You think having someone target Petrovich in a rink full of spectators is a fucking game?"             

     Shocked disbelief followed her outburst and deliberate crude language. Several emotions crossed through Denny's eyes so quickly that they were hardly noticed. None of them gave her the answer she had been expecting. But she refused to back down, refused to back away as he straightened in his chair and faced her, his look one of feral seriousness.

     "What? When was this?"

     "This afternoon. And don't tell me you didn't have anything to do with it." Her gut was saying her initial suspicion was wrong, but she pushed anyway.

     "Why the hell would I target Petrovich? He's our easiest shot at getting in."

     "Because it was meant as a warning." Bobbi pushed away from the desk but didn't step back. Let him think she wasn't convinced, see if he tipped his hand and shared any more information.

     "Shit. I wasn't expecting..." He grabbed the phone and punched in a few numbers, his expression grim. "Howard, we have a situation. I need you in here."

     Denny slammed the receiver down and stood, tension radiating from every line of his body as he pulled thick files from a tall cabinet. He picked up the phone again, then replaced it as he looked up at her. She straightened even further, knots of anxiety twisting her stomach.

     "Petrovich. Where is he now?"

     "Why?"

     "Dammit, Bobbi, not now. I can't take a chance of this blowing up. Where is he?"

     "At his house. Now tell me what the hell is going on."

     Denny shook his head, picked the phone back up and punched in some numbers. His voice was short, authoritative as he spoke. "Get someone over to Petrovich's house. I want him covered."

     Bobbi's stomach twisted even further, and she was ready to grab Denny by the throat and demand answers when Howard walked in. The office door closed behind him with a definitive click and he gave both of them a flat stare.

     She looked from Howard to Denny. "What the hell is going on? I want answers. Now."

     "Bobbi, tell me exactly what happened. I want every detail."

     The tension in the room was at an alarming high, fueling her anxiety. She swallowed back the emotion that threatened to drown her and gave a thorough recounting of the afternoon's incident, ending with her dropping Nikolai at his home before coming here.

     Denny and Howard exchanged a long glance, communicating silently and reinforcing the fact that there was something much bigger going on than she had been led to believe. Howard finally looked at her, then motioned for her to take a seat as he did the same. Her stomach heaved as she lowered herself into the chair, her knees suddenly weak. It didn't make her feel any better when Denny remained standing, a stubborn scowl on his face as he shook his head.

     "Howard, I want her out of it."

     "Out of what? What the hell is going on?"

     "It's too late for her to be out of it. And right now, she's our best bet to stay as close to Petrovich as possible without blowing everything."

     "She's a forensic accountant, not a field agent. She's not trained—"

     "Dammit!" Her outburst caught the attention of both men, and they finally turned to look at her. "What is going on?"

     Again they exchanged a look full of silent communication that ended only when Denny released a heavy sigh and took his seat. His fingers drummed against the files as he stared at her with a look she couldn't read, a look that did nothing to relieve her growing anxiety.

     "Petrovich is signing most of his contracted salary over to his agent. We believe he's being blackmailed but we don't know why. Nothing we've been able to uncover has given us any indication that there's anything in his background that would justify blackmail." Denny thumbed through one of the files and pulled several sheets of paper out.

     "During his first two years in the league, he was signed with the SLA Agency. His contracts were solid and legitimate. Then, for no apparent reason, he terminated that contract with no notice and immediately signed with Walter Jacobs of Timur Bratva Ltd. One month after his signing, we became aware of irregularities in the finances of TBL, and specifically with Walter Jacobs. Monitoring of these finances led to the discovery that the contract signed by Petrovich gave Walter Jacobs ninety-eight percent of Petrovich's earnings."

     Bobbi stared at Denny, her mind wrapping around the facts as she tried to paint a clearer picture of what he was saying. He had alluded to something like this last week, but this...It didn't make sense. Why would Nikolai agree to something so blatantly illegal? And why wasn't anything done about it back when it was first discovered? She asked Denny, but it was Howard who answered.

     "The contract was executed while Petrovich was in Russia, and TBL's jurisdiction is for Russia. It wasn't bound by US oversight at the time."

     "Is that even legal? I thought all players were bound by standards and regulations set forth by the league."

     "Technically they are. But there was a little-known loophole that was used for this. That loophole has since been closed, but doesn't apply here."

     "I don't understand. Why doesn't Ni—Petrovich terminate the contract and sign with another agency?"

     "That's what we can't find out. He's been approached by other agencies, and he's been offered advice and assistance, but he refuses. He simply denies that there's anything wrong and that he's satisfied with his current agent."

     Bobbi was still having trouble understanding. Why would Nikolai agree to something so outrageous? He was an intelligent man, smarter than he let everyone know because of the Old Country act he deliberately portrayed to everyone—even to her, though usually not as extreme when they were alone.

     "This agent, Walter Jacobs. Is he even legitimate? He's obviously working in the US. Isn't there something that can be done from that angle?"

     Denny shook his head. "He's legitimate, with all the necessary certifications and licenses needed. And he's done a credible job of negotiating contracts and endorsement deals for Petrovich."

     "Lucrative contracts and endorsements," Howard added.

     Of course. The more money Nikolai made, the more money Jacobs would get. But why?

     "The money he gets...where does it go?"

     "He keeps a percentage, but the majority of it goes directly to TBL."

     "Which is in Russia. Which makes the money almost impossible to trace." Bobbi took a deep breath and let it out. Her stomach twisted again. "Drugs? Human trafficking? Terrorism?"

     Silence greeted her speculation, and she looked at both men, waiting. Howard is the one who finally spoke.

     "We don't know. We suspect drugs and trafficking. There's been...rumor...that Pavel Maksimov has some kind of ties to TBL. But rumor only."

     Bobbi's hands involuntarily clenched around the chair at the name. Pavel Maksimov, reputed Russian mafia boss specializing in a hundred unsavory practices. One of the few people they had never been able to locate enough evidence against to put away. One of the few names that had the power to lure her back into shadowland.

     She eased her knuckled grip on the chair and looked first at Denny, then to Howard. "Rumor? You can't tie him to this?"

     Howard shook his head, but it was Denny who answered. "We were hoping that having you get close to Petrovich would give us some further insight."

     Bobbi stared at him in disbelief, anger thrumming through her veins. "How? You just said you don't think he has anything to do with any of this. I told you last week that it sounded like a shady business deal and to follow the money, but you'd already done that!"

     "It was my call, Bobbi." Denny admitted. She stared at him, her jaw clenching in anger. "I was hoping that you'd be able to get...close...to him, find out why he was continuing to agree to the deal. If we knew why, we might have a better idea of where to focus our search."

     "So you used me. Why am I not surprised?" She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, then opened them again. "So what was today about? Why would somebody suddenly send a warning like that by targeting him?"

     "I don't know. Obviously someone somewhere thinks that we're getting information from Petrovich. What did he say about it?"

     "Say? He didn't say anything—he didn't even know!"

     "So the warning was meant for you. For us." Howard steepled his hands together and tapped his chin, thinking.

     Denny was more agitated. "Which means someone at least suspects you're more than Petrovich's personal assistant. You're off the case, Bobbi."

     "No. Bobbi's already involved. She's close to Petrovich. And now she knows what to look for." She had opened her mouth to object, then shut it when Howard spoke. He now turned his attention to her. "We should have been more thorough in briefing you. I'll take the responsibility for that. Are you still willing to help with this?"

     Willing? Did she have a choice? Images whirled through her mind: Nikolai's smiling face, his deeply accented voice and hearty laughter, his warm mouth and hard body pressed against her...a single red point in the middle of his chest, splattered blood and torn flesh...

     She swallowed against the fear the last image spread through her. What good would she be if someone really wanted to target Nikolai? She wasn't a field agent, she wasn't trained for this. She didn't know how to protect him. And the possibility that the fear could become reality scared her. But she couldn't walk away now, not when she was already involved.

     "Yeah, I'll help."

     Denny opened his mouth to object but was quickly silenced by a look from Howard. "Give her all the information she needs."

     "Fine. But I want her armed at all times. And I want eyes on both of them, no exceptions." Denny looked at her, his eyes flat and empty. "And I want you on the range, at least an hour a day. Every day. You need to be able to shoot without hesitating."

     Bobbi nodded, knowing she would need all the help she could get. Howard stood and gave her a long look, then spoke directly to Denny. "Now come up with a way for her to stay with Petrovich at all times. And I mean, at all times."

**

     Bobbi stood on the front stoop, cursing the light that silhouetted her against the door. It felt like there was a target painted dead-center on her back, and she rolled her shoulders, knocking on the door again with the heel of her palm before looking behind her. The street looked deserted in both directions, with neither vehicle nor foot traffic.

     But that meant nothing. Cars were parked up and down the street, silent and dark. Any of them would be a perfect hiding space. She knew for a fact that somewhere close by, one of them
was
a hiding space, for the team Denny had sent to watch Nikolai's house.

     No, not Nikolai's
house
. Nikolai. And her.
Them
. At all times.

     She still wasn't sure if that made her feel more at ease, or more uncomfortable.