Page 93 of Lethal Torture
“Nothing I can’t handle.” I take an extremely welcome mouthful of the cold stuff and stretch out on one of the long lounges set around a central table, upon which is an enormous platter of seafood on ice. “This looks good.”
“Feel free to destroy it at will, Luke.” Mak gives me a dry look. “It’s the first of several courses I ordered from a local restaurant, being as familiar as I am with your appetite after you’ve been out on the water. He keeps his kiteboard and Jeep here,” he adds to Roman. “Tarifa is a mecca for kiteboarders, apparently.”
“That it is.” I grin at him. “I’ll get you out on the water with me one of these days, Mak.”
“Not a chance, friend.” He raises his martini glass in my direction. “I far prefer theaprès-sporting celebrations to actual participation.” Despite the mellow afternoon sun and relaxed environment, he’s impeccably clad in a linen suit and a hat set at a rakish angle, one leg folded over the other in a wide chair.
“Except for hunting, right?” I give him the ghost of a wink. “You’ve always been pretty good with a rifle.”
“Speaking of hunting.” Roman, still in his bike leathers, stretches his arm across the back of the lounge. “Have you caught Zinaida’s would-be assassin?”
“Not yet.” I smile blandly at him.
He grins. “You like to play it close, don’t you, Macarthur?”
Oh, you have no idea how close I like to play it.
Mak tops up his martini from a silver shaker. “I heard you had a touch of fun at Avonmouth this past weekend. Luke had a little run-in with the Port Authority,” he adds for Roman’s benefit.
“Port Authority?” Roman’s eyes narrow as they settle on me. “Hunting traffickers is a dangerous hobby. One I thought you might persuade Zinaida to give up.”
I give him a rather dry look. “And I thought you said you knew Zinaida?”
Mak coughs into his martini, then turns a palm up when Roman glares at him. “The man has a point, Roman. We both know Zinaida won’t ever let that particular hunt go.”
Roman shakes his head, still frowning. “Chasing ghosts can be just as dangerous as running from them. Especially when the ghost is more of an obsession.”
“Ghosts?” I look between the two men. “Is there a particular ghost, then, that she’s hoping to find?”
Roman shoots Mak a surprised glance. “Didn’t you include this in your brief?”
Mak tilts his chin in a slight negative, eyeing Roman with interest. “It seems that you may, for once, be in the rare position of knowing something I do not.”
I cock an eyebrow at Roman.
“Sophie’s House.” His eyes slide sideways. If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he almost looks guilty. “It’s named after Zinaida’s sister. Or cousin.” He frowns. “I can’t remember which. Either way, Sophie went missing a long time ago. Zinaida has never stopped looking for her.”
And how, exactly, do you know that—and I don’t?
It’s only years of training that keep my attitude relaxed and my expression bland. “Interesting.” I take a slow mouthful of my drink, my eyes not leaving his face.
“I’ve known Zin a long time.” Roman takes a very large mouthful of beer, then another. “Since we were both teenagers, actually.”
Oh, he’s uncomfortable, all right.I’ve known Roman for several years, but I’ve never seen him squirm quite so visibly.
I wait.
The good thing about a lifetime of specialist operator training is that it teaches the value of silence. Roman Borovsky may be one of the hardest men I know, but he doesn’t have the same training I do. And right now, it shows.
“We—well.” His eyes shift between Mak and me. “We had a night once. Back in the day.”
For a split second, I can almost feel my fist landing squarely in Roman Borovsky’s face. See his eyes widening in terror as I smash the bottle in my hand and open his throat with the jagged remains of it.
“Luke.” Mak stands up, momentarily blocking Roman from view. “Let me take that for you.” He plucks the empty bottle outof my hand, his eyes settling briefly on my own, and then goes to the cooler to take out another one. By the time he’s shifted out of my line of vision, I’ve put the savage inside me back on the leash.
Roman glances at me and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. I notice that it’s shaking just a little.
“So you think that finding this Sophie is what still motivates Zinaida?” I ask the question calmly. As if I didn’t just seriously consider throwing his bleeding, battered body over the edge of a fucking cliff.
