Page 2 of No Reason to Trust

Her hands were damp as she gripped the handle of the heavy door. She had an instinctive moment of panic --don’t go inside. You don’t know where your backup is. Everything about this assignment feels… wrong. Poorly planned. Risky. Dangerous.

Olivia squared her shoulders. This was her assignment. She needed to do this. And once she found the meeting, she’d handle it quickly. Professionally. Then she’d get the hell out of this building and out of Brooklyn.

Stepping inside the building, she saw that it was open in the middle, both sides lined with what looked like small offices. This space was an atrium, but that sounded way too fancy for what she was looking at. The glass on the roof was as dirty as the windows on the outside. The floor was scarred tile, with chunks missing in random places. There were offices on this ground floor, as well, but she couldn’t see any numbers on the doors. The heavy air held scents she couldn’t identify, bitter, nasty. She swallowed hard to get rid of the lump of dread in her throat.

She started up the flight of stairs on the right side, but when she reached the second floor, the numbers on the door were odd numbers. She needed to be on the other side of the building. She started down the stairs before she noticed that the floor circled the atrium. So she walked to the end of the building, curled around the open atrium, and ascended the stairs on the other side of the building.

Even numbers on the door. Good. She was on the right side.

She ascended one more flight, then walked down the narrow balcony until she found room 310. Swallowed hard. Drew a deep breath. Blew it out and knocked on the door.

After a long moment, someone inside said something that was probably in Russian. Since she had no idea what he’d said, she opened the door slowly and stepped into the room.

Eight or nine men lounged on two couches and a few chairs. The youngest was just a kid. A teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen. The oldest looked in his forties. The rest of the men were youngish, twenties or early thirties.

Olivia turned to face the older man, keeping her back to the door. “Mr. Petrenko?” When he nodded, Olivia said, “I understand you might be interested in working with the FBI to your benefit and ours.”

Petrenko stared at her for what felt like hours but was probably less than a minute. His icy cold glare was alarming. Unnerving. It sent a spear of dread down her spine. The hostility in his dark brown eyes set every alarm bell in her head shrieking at her to get out! Now!

She slid her hand into her pocket, twitching to send that text and summon Jake Dunbar. But as threatening as he appeared, Petrenko hadn’t actually said anything at all.

Finally he said, “What is the FBI offering for our cooperation?”

“In exchange for information about your rivals’ plans, we are willing to assist you with importing goods into the country.”

“You will divert our goods around customs?” he asked, frowning.

“We don’t have the authority to divert goods around customs,” she said. “But we can provide escorts for your goods. Make sure they don’t end up in the hands of your rivals.”

Petrenko frowned. “None of our rivals would touch our goods. They know what would happen if they did. They fear our retribution.”

The back of Olivia’s neck tingled, and she knew the men on either side of her were staring at her. Ready to respond to any signal from their boss to deal with her.

“Then what would you require to work with the FBI?” she asked, managing to keep her voice steady. Even.

“I don’t believe we are interested in working with your FBI. We have our own justice. Our own retribution for those who steal from us.” His dark eyes studied her, and Olivia saw her utter contempt in his eyes. “My son will escort you out.”

Olivia still had her hand in her pocket, and she pressed send on the text message. Hopefully, Dunbar would be waiting in the lobby.

The kid stared at his father for a long moment, and a message was exchanged. Unfortunately, Olivia couldn’t decode that message. But she knew there was nothing good for her in that exchange.

She looked at Petrenko. “Thank you for your time. I appreciate your frankness. I’ll carry your message back to my boss, Donald Nelson.”

Petrenko’s eyes flickered at the name, but he didn’t say anything. He merely nodded. “Sacha will escort you to the street.”

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I can find my way out.”

“I insist,” Petrenko said. He nodded at who she was sure was his son. “See the agent to the street.”

The kid stared at his father for a long moment. Waited, as if hoping for a reprieve. Finally he stood up. Opened the door for Olivia and exited the room behind her.

Olivia did not want this kid at her back. She suspected his father meant for him to kill her, and she wasn’t going to give him the chance. So when they got to the stairs, she stepped to the side. Waved her hand. “Lead the way.”

The kid cleared his throat. “Ladies first,” he said in unaccented English.

“That’s very gentlemanly, but I’d prefer you go first. You know the stairs better than I do. I don’t want to make a misstep.”

He frowned at her, and Olivia stared back. Finally he shrugged and began running down the stairs. Olivia followed him, moving as fast as she could. Once they were on the ground floor, he waved for her to precede him out the door.

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