Read Online Tell Me No Lies by Annie Solomon - Free Book Online

swords. An English navy officer's saber, a Russian light cavalry saber, a French dragoon's weapon. All nineteenth-century. Not his best, of course, but good enough to display. If it wasn't good enough to show off; it wasn't good enough to own, a philosophy he freely applied to people as well.
    To Alex Baker in particular.
    After last night he wanted to show her off, but she was not in her office or at home. He'd been annoyed enough that she'd refused to come home with him last night. Now he couldn't even reach her.
    He rose from the desk and glided to the huge window overlooking midtown Manhattan. He liked the view from the ninety-eighth floor. Cars and buses, people everything in miniature, toys in his own private playing field.
    Except Alex, who wasn't available for play. Was she avoiding him?
    Impossible.
    Women didn't avoid him, they sought him out Why should Alex Baker be any different?
    A knock sounded on his office door.
    "Enter," he barked in Russian. He wasn't in the mood to be interrupted.
    Behind him the door opened, but he stared out the window, a rush of petty anger surging through him and keeping whoever it was waiting. And waiting.
    At last, the person spoke.
    "You... uh... wanted to see me?"
    Slowly, Petrov turned. A pasty-faced Yuri stooped in the doorway. As always, he wore a black leather coat over black shirt and slacks. The inky color made his face appear even more sickly. He had a half-smoked cigarette in the corner of his mouth, which he sucked in and removed with a shaky hand.
    "You made a fool of me last night," Petrov snapped, sticking to their native tongue and making the man stand when he clearly longed to collapse in one of the upholstered chairs in front of the desk. "Repeat that performance, and I'lll send you back to Russia."
    "Da, tovarish'nachalnik," Yuri muttered.
    Petrov returned to the desk, sat down, and steepled his ringers together. Over his clasped hands, he scowled at Yuri, stabbing him with a look Petrov had used on countless victims. A look that said you were standing there by his leave, and if he wanted to, he could make sure you never stood again. "What did you find?"
    Yuri squirmed. "I tore Kholodov's place apart. Emptied drawers, cabinets. I searched everywhere, even pried up floorboards. There was nothing about you."
    Petrov growled. That could mean Yuri was an incompetent fool.
    Or Kholodov had been bluffing, and there was nothing.
    Or they just hadn't found it yet.
    None of which were options Petrov liked.
    "I did find this." Yuri trudged over, took something from inside his coat, and with two fingers slid it carefully across the desk as though afraid Petrov might cut the digits off.
    A photograph of Alex.
    Petrov glanced sharply at Yuri. "Where was this?"
    "In a nice silver frame on top of the TV."
    What did this mean? How would a runt like Kholodov come in contact with one of the most talented businesswomen in the country?
    Petrov studied the photograph. In black and white, it looked like a blowup from a newspaper article. Well, Alex was a beautiful woman. Maybe Kholodov just wanted a picture of her.
    Maybe.
    He felt Yuri's gaze on him. "Stop hovering."
    The man tensed. "What do you ..." Yuri licked his lips. "What do you want me to do?"
    "When I decide I'll let you know. Get out." Yuri started to obey. "Wait. Go over to Miss Baker's building and tell me when she arrives. And don't let her see you."
    Yuri bowed slightly, a relieved expression on his face. He backed out, and Petrov had forgotten him before he disappeared through the door.
    He picked up the phone. "Get me Jeffrey Greer."
    While he waited, he stared at the picture. Alex stared back at him, her smile cold and meaningless, for the camera only.
    He would like to warm that smile. Melt it. Heat it.
    Discover the mystery behind it.
    "Greer." The State Department aide's voice broke into Petrov's thoughts.
    He didn't say hello, didn't identify himself. "What do you know about Alex Baker?"
    "She's a brilliant mind who