Something he’d decided in the past ten minutes to teach Mindy. Although he had plenty of confidence in his ability to protect her, she needed some of that assurance for herself. A good life lesson situation. Whether or not they ended up together, he knew if anything ever happened to her he’d hunt down and kill the bastard. Giving her a sense of self-confidence, and avoiding a murder rap, seemed like the best outcome for all concerned.
He finished his shower, slicked gel through his hair, dressed in a pair of Calvin Klein jeans and the t-shirt he hadn’t slept in last night, and then threw on his overcoat.
“Are you leaving right now?” she questioned, seeing him dressed and ready to go.
“Yes, and you’re coming with me.”
She brightened. “Sightseeing?”
“More like an errand.” He checked his watch. “But we should have time for a stop I think you’ll enjoy.”
Leaping up from the desk chair, she clapped like a kid who was told she could have an extra hour of recess. He sent her a fond smile. Appreciation swelled in his chest and nudged his heart.
Damn, she got to him. Every time her eyes lit up and she smiled like the world was made of sunshine and rainbows, he fell a little bit more in love with her. When he wasn’t with her he missed her, thought about her, worshipped her from afar.
Too far, for too long.
That was going to change. As soon as he found the right moment to show her how he felt, how much she meant to him.
“Let me call our driver,” he said, “so we can get a head start on the day.”
Once they’d settled into the back seat of the luxury ride, he gave the man instructions in Russian of the general area he wanted to go. At the request, the driver’s eyebrows lifted and disappeared under his cap. “Yes, sir,” he replied. They traveled down main streets then took a few turns until they entered a seedier part of town. The driver asked in Russian, “Any pawn shop?”
Isaac replied, “One that specializes in weapons.” When the man’s eyes widened, Isaac explained. “We’re not going there to make trouble. Just to buy some protection for the lady’s peace of mind.”
The driver nodded. “We will see it done.”
Isaac thanked him, glad Mindy couldn’t understand the language. She might’ve grown concerned at his request.
Eventually they pulled up to a dingy storefront with diamond-shaped grates inside the windows. She glanced past him. “I guess I get to see the real parts of the city, not the tourist stuff.”
“We’ll see a tourist attraction, too. This is a brief detour.” When she exited the car he secured his arm around her and ushered her into the shop.
Sad little bells clanged against the door when they entered. The smell of aged metal and mothballs filled the air.
“Geez, what kind of place is this?” Reaching out, she touched a chainmail shirt on a mannequin torso as if she expected it to bite her. “Look at all these…” She swallowed. “Weapons.”
He nodded and went straight to the smudged glass countertop. Inside lay a host of knives spread before him. Scanning them quickly, he found one that suited his purpose.
“Hello?” Isaac called out his greeting in Russian, not wanting the owner to know his American status and risk getting raked over on the price.
A round-bellied man emerged from a curtain that concealed a back room, and with him came the ripe odor of unwashed armpits. The man’s beady glare sized up Isaac then shifted to Mindy, undressing her with his eyes.
Isaac slapped his hand on the counter. “I’m here to buy a knife.” He pointed at the piece he wanted from the selection. “This one.”
The owner grunted and the smell of stale tobacco wafted over the counter. Then the rotund man shook his head, reaching behind him into a case containing an array of black market guns. “You want something like this. Solid gold, ivory detail in the handle. A showpiece.”
Isaac took one look at the pistol and disagreed. He doubted the gun even fired. “No showpiece. I want something for practical defense.”
Frowning, the man shrugged and muttered under his breath. He replaced the gun, locked the case, and withdrew the knife requested in the first place. Isaac picked it up, testing the weight and balance on his forefinger. Satisfied by the level of craftsmanship, he feathered his thumb along the blade. Unimpressed, he stated, “This needs sharpening.”
The owner sent him a look that said, How is that my problem?
With a loud exhale, Isaac requested a sharpening stone. At least the man produced that, a reluctant attempt at customer service. Isaac planned to bargain him down to the bone. Growing up around his uncles and cousins and the rest of the extended Atlas family, they’d helped him refine his negotiating skills. The perfect preparation for a career in sales. While cutthroat bargaining wasn’t the norm in most parts of America, his family had turned it into an art form. Sometimes they’d challenged each other to see who could get the best price for any item. From a Lamborghini to a can of Lysol, there was always a bargain to strike. The one key for the purchaser was his willingness to walk away. The loss of a sale was worse for a seller than losing a few bucks in profit. God, he loved his career.