He clicked off the line and looked up at the television screen. He’d muted it, but he grabbed the remote and put the sound back on.
Grigori Androv was on the screen, smiling wide. The headline was definitely attention-getting.
Zoprava CEO Donates 20 Million to Refugee Relief
Mendez watched the report. He’d seen Androv before, but this time he paid attention to the details. Grigori Androv appeared soft, nerdy. He was tall, thin, wore glasses, and he smiled like he owned the world. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was the smile of a man without morals or limits. An arrogant smile.
Mendez understood that kind of man well. He’d encountered them all too often in his life. A side effect of the job, no doubt.
He was about to snap the sound off again when the footage cut to a charity banquet. And there, right there on his screen, Androv stood beside a man whose hand he was clasping in a handshake. As if they’d just cut a deal.
Congressman DeWitt smiled as he said something to Androv. His other hand came up and clasped the man’s shoulder. A spontaneous move, familiar. A chill shot through Mendez, settled like a rock in his belly.
There was nothing out of place about that shot. Nothing that suggested any impropriety whatsoever. DeWitt was a congressman, and a refugee relief event was a perfectly legitimate place for him to be. There was no evidence he knew Androv, no evidence they’d ever spoken before that event.
But it caused the hair on Mendez’s neck to prickle anyway. His senses twitched. There was just something about DeWitt and Androv in the same frame that didn’t sit right with him. Something that said there was more to the story than he’d ever guessed.
Now he really wanted to know what was in those fucking files of Androv’s. And he was willing to risk a lot to find out.
IAN BLACK CHECKED them into a small suite at the airport. It was after midnight but still a few hours until Sophie’s flight out. She was happy he’d done that instead of forcing her to sit in an airport lounge all night, though she didn’t relish being in a room with a stranger.
She glanced over at him as he paced the room, his attention on the phone screen in front of him. Black was tall with dark hair. He was, appropriately she supposed, dressed in black from head to toe, and his expression was hard and businesslike. He might not be Chase’s teammate, but he was like Chase. Cut from the same cloth. The badass-military-man cloth.
She hadn’t been around that kind of man long, but she pretty much thought she could recognize them now. There was something about them. Something strong, something deadly. Something honorable, at least in Chase’s case. And Hawk’s.
She didn’t know about Ian Black.
“Any news?” she asked when she thought she might go crazy from the silence and her thoughts.
He glanced up. “I told you an hour ago he was safe.”
“Yes, but where is he?”
She’d nearly melted in relief when Ian had gotten a call earlier and then told her that Chase and another man were on their way.
“Is he okay?” she’d asked.
“Yes.”
That was all she’d needed. Until now, when she kept expecting him to walk into the room at any moment. She was going just a little bit crazy waiting to lay eyes on him again. It shocked her just how much she needed to see him. How necessary he’d become.
Except that she had to put an end to those kinds of thoughts because he wasn’t necessary at all. He couldn’t be. This thing between them was ending, whether tonight or when they landed in DC. Over. Done. Had to be.
He didn’t want her in his life. He wanted the sex, but he didn’t want her. Too complicated.
“They’re on the way. Traffic is a bitch in this city, you know.”
She did know. She turned away and went over to the windows, gazing out at the lights. Planes took off and landed at regular intervals. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing like that when there was a knock at the door.
Ian went over and looked through the peephole. Then he swung it open and Chase and another man stood on the other side.
She couldn’t help her reaction even though she’d told herself to be cool. Calm.
She was neither of those things. With a little cry, she ran toward the door as Chase walked in. He caught her as she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.
She was shaking, but she didn’t cry. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Dear God, don’t let her cry. He was strong—all these men were strong—and she wasn’t going to be the one who fucking cried.
Chase held her close, a hand sifting up into her hair, pressing her to his chest. He smelled good, a little like the night, a little smoky, a little spicy.
“It’s okay, babe,” he said into her ear. “You’re okay.”