Page 5 of Croatia Collateral

“And if I don’t?”

“You just said you like the red dress,” he waved the gun at her. “Don’t make me blow a hole in it.”

“For the record, I really don’t think you’d pull the trigger on a woman.” She held up her hand. “But I’m not daring you to do it now.” She pushed open her door and swung her legs out, planting her feet on the ground.

He slid across the seat, wrapped his arm around her neck and pointed the gun at her head. “Don’t try anything stupid. My finger’s on the trigger.”

“I’m so scared,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

She slipped from under his arm, got out of the vehicle with him behind her and walked toward the structure like a model on a runway.

Dax didn’t trust her for a second and remained on his toes, gun at the ready. Still, he could admire her narrow waist, the swell of her hips and the sexy leg flashing him through the slit in the dress.

Who was this woman?

Never having been to the building before, Dax walked up to the front door. It was locked without a light shining over the entrance or a doorbell to ring. How was he supposed to get inside?

A voice sounded from somewhere overhead. “Dax Franklin, you old son of a bitch, glad you found your way to the office.” Dax recognized Ace Hammerson's voice. “What have you got? Or rather, who have you got?”

“I was hoping you could help me figure that out,” Dax said.

The metal click of a lock sounded on the door in front of Dax.

“Come on in,” Hammer said.

Dax nodded to the woman. “After you.”

She opened the door and stepped inside a small foyer.

Once Dax was through the door and had closed it behind him, she strode down a hallway as if she owned the place.

Dax followed, his gaze narrowing.

The hallway had doors on either side, but the woman didn’t stop until she reached the one at the end. With a flourish, she flung it open and stepped inside.

Ace Hammerson stood at the end of a long conference table with a beautiful black-haired, green-eyed woman at his side. Several other people were gathered around. Dax didn’t know any of them.

Hammerson stepped forward. “I’m sorry for the last-minute change in our meeting location, but I’m glad you two made it here.” He held out his hand. “You can put the gun away.”

A barrel-chested older man with a shock of white hair held out a chair for the woman in red. “You clean up well,” he said with a thick Russian accent.

“Thank you, Dmytro,” she sank into the chair and looked to Ace Hammerson.

“Well?” Ace said.

She shook her head. “He’s not the right man for the job.”

Hammer frowned. “He’s a dead ringer for Maas.”

The woman ran her gaze over Dax, her eyes narrowing. “Agreed, but he doesn’t have the swagger and is gullible.”

Hammer sighed. “We don’t have time to find a perfect match. Besides, from what I remember, Dax learns quickly. We can teach him what he needs to know.”

Dax felt like a spectator at a tennis match, his gaze going from the woman in the red dress to his new boss, Hammer. The more they talked, the more confused Dax became.

Dax raised a hand. “Hold on a minute.” He waved the hand between the two talking. “You know each other?”

They turned to him and spoke as one, “Yes.”

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