final room in the dinky apartment, already making his way toward it.
“There are no suitcases.” She followed him into Leanna’s bedroom. “But honestly, I don’t even know if Leanna had any suitcases.”
He flung open the slatted closet doors, and the empty hangers swayed on the wooden rod. Grabbing a handful of clothing on the other side, he pulled them forward for a closer look.
“These aren’t all the clothes she had, right? I mean, most women—” he released the clothes and they rustled and whispered back into place “—have a lot more than this in their closets.”
As she stood beside Alexei, relishing his shoulder wedged against hers, drinking in the way his dark stubble outlined his lean jaw, a horrible thought hit her right between the eyes. What if he had someone in his life? A wife? A girlfriend with a bunch of clothes?
“Sh-she wore a lot of different outfits with quirky accessories—hats, scarves.” Britt tipped back her head and squinted at the shelf above the hangers. “I don’t see any of that stuff here.”
Alexei stepped back, and she was able to think again without all that masculinity crowding her. She didn’t even know who or what Alexei Ivanov was. After her internet search for him this morning, she was pretty sure he wasn’t a photographer living in Algeria or a boxer. He was probably FBI, and she planned to ask to see his badge or credentials or whatever before she traveled much further down this rabbit hole with him.
He sat on the edge of the bed and yanked open the single nightstand drawer. He reached inside and held up his find, letting several connected foil packs of condoms unfold from his fingertips. “Would a woman take off with her boyfriend without these?”
“Exactly.” The sight of Alexei brandishing an accordion of condoms did funny things to her insides, so she charged forward to prove otherwise, hovering over his shoulder to peek into her sister’s drawer. She wished she hadn’t.
“And those?” She jabbed her finger at the sex toys stuffed in the drawer. “A woman wouldn’t take off with her boyfriend without packing those.”
“I guess not.” Alexei’s eyebrows formed a V over his nose as he tilted his head to the side.
Britt nudged the drawer shut with her knee and brushed her hands together. “I think we pretty much put to rest the boyfriend story, although I’m hoping she hightailed it out of here on her own. Of course, that brings me back to the question of why she hasn’t contacted me. She has to know I’d be worried.”
“Did worrying you bother her before?” Alexei pushed up from the bed and whipped back the covers.
“Not really. Why are you doing that? What are you looking for?”
He flicked the covers back into place. “Bloodstains.”
Britt sucked in a breath, and she plopped down on the edge of the bed. “If somebody did take Leanna, they grabbed her somewhere else. There was nothing out of place here when the manager let the police in. If there had been, the cops would’ve taken my concerns more seriously.”
“Or they snatched her from this apartment and cleaned up after themselves.” He dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about that bloodstains comment. I forget sometimes I’m talking to Leanna’s sister. I’m not used to working with...civilians.”
“Who are you used to working with?” She looked up and locked eyes with him.
His hand tightened on her shoulder when the dead bolt clicked from the living room. He leaned toward her, his warm breath stirring her hair as he whispered in her ear, “It’s someone with a key. Into the closet.”
She froze, and Alexei had to grab her arm and pull her off the bed. He hustled her in front of him to the closet and propelled her inside. He closed the door, drawing a gun from his jacket pocket.
He always had it with him—and right now she couldn’t be happier.
He gave her a gentle push to the back of the closet and arranged Leanna’s clothes around her. As Britt inhaled her sister’s signature musky perfume, she almost doubled over from the pain in her gut.
She must’ve emitted some scared-animal sound because Alexei put his finger to his lips. Then he crouched among the folds of Leanna’s clothing and widened the space between two of the slats with his thumb and forefinger.
The front door slammed, and she jerked. She nestled in closer to Alexei’s body, his warmth shoring her up. Her new position also gave her a view of Leanna’s bedroom.
She took shallow breaths as she listened to shuffling noises from the other room. Could it be the apartment manager checking on something?
Heavy footsteps trudged down the short hallway, and a man burst into the bedroom.
Britt’s fingers bit into the leather of Alexei’s jacket when she recognized Jerome.
He flung himself across the bed and heaved out one terrible sob. “Lee, I’m so sorry.”
* * *
ALEXEI DRILLED A knuckle into Britt’s hip as he watched the bartender from last night thrash and moan on the bed. Just because Britt knew Jerome, there was no reason for her to reveal herself to him—and no reason at all for her to out Alexei.
But Britt kept as still as one of those shoes on the closet floor.
Jerome dragged a pillow over his face, wrapping his arms around it. His body convulsed with his sobs, and then, apparently spent, he knocked the pillow aside and stared at the ceiling.
Alexei’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth, so he widened his mouth, shifting his lower jaw from side to side. He’d better relax. Who knew how long Jerome would gaze at the popcorn on the ceiling. He might even dissolve into another crying jag.
When Alexei realized he was still poking his knuckle into the curve of Britt’s hip, he stretched out his fingers and smoothed them over the spot. He had to be more careful with Britt. He wasn’t with his sniper teammates on this assignment. He kept making insensitive comments about Leanna and then would feel twenty shades of guilt as he watched the color drain from her face.
If he had to be stuck in a closet cheek to cheek with someone for hours, he preferred Britt to any one of his sniper teammates—even Slade, who smelled damned good most of the time.
After another five minutes of contemplation, Jerome rolled off the bed. He wiped his face with the hem of his T-shirt. Then he smoothed out the covers and plumped up the pillow before placing it back at the head of the bed.
He took a look around the room, and Britt pressed against Alexei’s shoulder when Jerome’s gaze lit on the closet.
Alexei coiled his already-tense muscles. If Jerome approached their hiding place, Alexei would have to take him down before he could identify him or Britt. He had no clue what Jerome’s little performance meant, but Alexei wasn’t going to take any chances—not with Britt’s safety.
Jerome patted the sides of his short Afro and exited the room. A minute later the front door opened and closed, and the key scraped in the lock.
Still, Britt didn’t move a muscle.
Alexei shifted his position. “He’s gone.”
Britt collapsed against the clothes. “What the hell was that all about? Do you think Jerome killed Leanna? Is that what he’s sorry for?”
Pushing open the closet doors, Alexei took a deep breath. Even the stale air of the apartment trumped the cloying scent of perfume that overwhelmed him in the closet.
“I don’t know.” He waved a hand at the made-up bed. “Do you get the feeling this isn’t his first trip to this apartment?”
“Oh, yeah. This is some kind of ritual for him. The act seemed to calm him, as if it satisfied his need to expunge his guilt.”
Alexei’s eyebrows shot up.