Page 40 of Grizzly Sleuth
Her brows rose. “I’m confused.”
“Your brother is worried you’ll distract him at a crucial moment. Totally valid. He needs to believe you’re safe. But so do you, which is why I brought this.” He handed over her sweater, which had the beanie cap tucked up a sleeve. “We’ll have to be careful, but we can at least get close enough to make sure he’s actually having dinner and not being hauled off.”
“We’re too late. He’s already left,” she pointed out as she yanked the oversized sweater over her head.
“He’s only a few minutes ahead, and I doubt he’ll be in a rush. He’ll be sniffing. Scanning. Taking his time to make sure nothing is out of place, which means we have plenty of time to catch up. That is assuming you still want to go?”
“Yes!” She popped to her feet and jammed her hat over her head, flattening the top of her wild hair but leaving the rest of the blonde tendrils to pouf around her shoulders.
“All righty then.” Idris stood and grabbed the bag of food. He really was hungry.
And Svetlana was grateful. The arms she flung around his body took him by surprise. The press of her slim body against his had him stirring in a way that had him sliding out of the embrace and roughly saying, “We should get moving before Yuri gets too far ahead.”
“Okay, but first, I need some food.” She dug a hand into the bag and pulled out a soggy container of fries. She munched as she skipped down the steps. Shaking his head, Idris followed, but he didn’t start devouring his own meal until they reached the sidewalk and began walking. They couldn’t spot Yuri ahead of them, but to Idris’s surprise, he could smell the man. The soap he’d used, the lingering spice of the aftershave, too. Maybe he could get the hang of this sniffing thing.
When they finished their food, and dumped the garbage into a bin, Svetlana tucked her arm in his. Just a couple out for an evening stroll on sidewalks that thankfully held little foot traffic.
The restaurant proved easy to find, if nerve-racking to reach, as it required them walking past the hotel across the street, outside of which a KGB agent stood guard. How many more inside? Despite Svetlana looking nothing like the picture of her circulating, she turned slightly toward him, concealing her features.
Logically, Idris knew the extra weight he’d put on since his military portrait was taken, along with his facial hair and Russian garb, made him almost unrecognizable, but that didn’t stop him from sweating bullets. He did his best to not look suspiciously at everyone they passed on the sidewalk but couldn’t help feeling self-conscious. In Canada, and even in Europe, people barely spared him a passing glance, but as people kept pointing out, his skin tone wasn’t as common in Russia, even more uncommon outside the big cities. Not that Svetlana seemed to notice or care. As it should be. The hue of his flesh didn’t define his character.
As they passed the restaurant, delicious aromas tantalized, and he cast a quick glance through the large bay window in time to see Yuri being seated at a table. He quickly turned his head. When Svetlana would have hesitated, he placed his hand on hers, keeping her locked to his arm and tugging her along, murmuring, “He’s fine.”
“You saw him?”
“Yes. He was being seated by a waiter. No sign of trouble.”
“What of hisdate?” the word said sourly.
“I didn’t see a woman with him, but it’s not quite eight.”
“Should we turn around for another peek?”
“That would look suspicious.” Before she could argue, he added, “Trust me.”
A big thing to ask, given how long they’d known each other, but then again, he’d proven himself to be on her side.
They strolled to the end of the block, and he veered them around the corner, and as hoped, he spotted the mouth to an alley.
“Where are we going?”
“Standing out front will look suspicious.”
“And the alley won’t?” her sarcastic reply.
“Less people watching.” He hoped.
It didn’t prove hard to figure out which door belonged to the restaurant. He’d not only counted the number of businesses, but the dumpster near it reeked of decaying food. Not the most pleasant spot for someone with a sensitive nose. He moved them past it and stopped two doors down, where the dumpster lacked a gagging stench.
He leaned against the wall and turned her to face him.
“Now what are you doing?” she asked as his hands settled on her hips.
“Creating our cover. Anyone looking will see a couple seeking privacy.”
“Ah, yes, because it’s so sexy to make out in a dirty alley,” she drawled, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned into him and rested the palms of her hands on his chest.
“Got a better idea?”
