Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“She said her name was Helena Vorobyev. She was looking for a man named Viktor Prakenskii. She thought he’d been in the Bay Area business district at one time. None of us knew a Viktor Prakenskii, but she was very persistent and kept coming back,” Amanda said.
Master’s eyes met Czar’s. The woman had been at the clubs looking for him weeks earlier. Vorobyev was derived from the name of a bird. In Russian, vorobey was “sparrow,” often used by Sorbacov as the code word for his female assets. That could tie Helena Smirnov/Vorobyev to the schools in Russia for certain. Why would she have such a vicious rage toward Czar? So much so that she would want to kill his entire family?
Master dropped his hand under the table and rested his palm on Ambrielle’s thigh. She’d gotten them prime information.
“Do you remember her brother’s name?” Ambrie persisted. “The blond? His scar was unusual, wasn’t it?” She sounded puzzled, as if trying to remember it.
Master noted that Ambrielle didn’t say what was different about the scar; she allowed Amanda to recall it. His woman was clever.
Amanda put her fingers up to her cheek and traced a crescent like a half-moon from the inside corner of her eye to the inside corner of her mouth. “It was a perfect crescent moon. Wide in the center and taking up most of the right side of his face. I’ve never seen a scar that was going from the inside corner of an eye and curving to the outside of the face and back in. I couldn’t imagine what made that scar so deep like that.”
Ambrielle touched her own face, her fingers covering her skin. “It was very odd.”
“His name was different as well,” Amanda continued. “Titus Ustrashkin. I thought that was strange even for a Russian name.”
At the table beside theirs, Casimir straightened from leaning toward his wife, Lissa. He tapped his fingers on the table, drumming them seemingly to the music playing softly in the background. Master listened to the code. Casimir had attended one of the other schools where Sorbacov had taken children to be trained as assets. A Titus Ustrashkin had attended that particular school with him.
Master curled his palm tightly around Ambrielle’s thigh, squeezing down to let her know she had done exactly what they needed.
The waitress arrived to take their orders, and Master was able to sit back and let the others carry the conversation so he could observe his woman interacting with her friends and the members of Torpedo Ink. The uneasiness sitting in his gut wasn’t letting up, even though everyone seemed to be relaxed and buying the story of their hasty marriage.
As always, Blythe and Czar took control if a subject came up that appeared as if it might take things in an awkward direction. The other band members and Ink kept Rashad, Adam and Marcus entertained and laughing. At no time did Ambrie try to force him to take part in the conversation. She seemed content to carry their share of the banter. Occasionally, she brushed her hand over the top of his, or leaned into him. Twice she stroked caresses over her rings.
Master generally avoided anywhere he had to listen to inane conversations. He didn’t like arguments. In the bar, he was playing music, not listening to the voices talking. He could get lost in the music. He had an ear for pitch, for sounds, and the wrong notes could easily grate on him. Ambrielle had a beautiful speaking voice. He could listen to her all night, and he tried to concentrate on just her voice, hoping to unravel some of the knots tied so tight in his belly—always an indicator of impending trouble.
He found himself exchanging uneasy looks with Maestro and Czar. They felt it too, that strange tension creeping into the room. He eased back in his chair and took a slow look around the room. Casimir and Lissa were on alert, along with Absinthe and Scarlet. The four were eating dinner, but they were checking out the diners in the room through the archway. Master didn’t have a good angle on the other room.
A jarring note in the laughter made him wince, so much so, he wrapped his fingers around Ambrie’s hand and held on tightly while he sorted out what was wrong. The sound tripped the acceleration switch on his heart. Yeah, something was very wrong. He had all the classic signs warning him. His gaze touched on Amanda.
Ambrie’s friend moved restlessly in her chair. Twice she looked at her watch, then looked around the restaurant, the expression on her face shadowed, anxious. Then she would look at Marcus and Adam. She couldn’t seem to settle or relax. Her voice had gone to a higher pitch, that jarring note that was off whenever she laughed. It wasn’t a real laugh at all.