“Yes,” M said. “We have an appointment with Natasha.”
“This way, please.” The woman gestured them inside and Loki got his first glimpse inside D.C.s most notorious brothel. And it was nothing like he imagined. No tacky velvet sofas or erotic art decorating the walls. Nope. This place looked like it could’ve come straight out of Architectural Digest. It was bright and airy with large windows gracing two walls and had a welcoming feel with all the warm hardwood floors and stainless-steel. The furniture in the open concept living room was tastefully beige and contemporary and a large granite breakfast bar spanned nearly the length of the room on one side, leading into a well-appointed chef’s kitchen.
“Ah, you must be my new clients,” a husky voice said from down a hall leading off from the kitchen. The words held a hint of Slavic accent. Natasha soon appeared in the kitchen, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. She stopped at the opposite end of the breakfast bar and gave Loki and M a slow appraising look. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I do not get very many married couples these days.”
She looked much the same as she did in her pictures, but perhaps even more brittle in real life, or at least she did in L
oki’s estimation. Could’ve been the fact that even with the curves, she appeared fragile. And she was shorter than he’d expected too, maybe only five-one or two. Her presence though seemed to fill the entire townhouse, filling the air with a buzz of anticipation.
“Come, sit.” She waved a hand toward the living room. “We must get to know each other first.”
They all took a seat, Loki and M on one sofa, Natasha across from them. M was oddly quiet now, but Loki didn’t have time to worry about that. He turned on the charm, hoping to schmooze Natasha into telling them what they needed to know. “Thanks so much for seeing us on such short notice.”
“Hmm.” Natasha narrowed her gaze. “Your assistant said you were in town on business. You are from France, Mr. Smith?”
“Oh.” He gave her what he hoped was a self-deprecating grin. “My wife here is. I’m from Texas originally. We met when I went to Paris to open the European headquarters of my international finance firm.” Loki leaned back into the cushions, grateful for the time he’d spent going over his cover with Cam. Made things flow much easier that way. He even slipped an arm around M’s shoulders and tucked her into his side for effect, despite her stiff posture.
“Yes,” Natasha said as she stared at M. “Do I know you, Mrs. Smith? You seem very familiar to me, as if we’ve met before.”
M shook her head, still silent.
Loki’s hackles rose a bit more, but he had to keep it together. They still needed to question Simcova about Todd Martin and they couldn’t do it here with the Asian woman lurking about. He wanted total privacy for his interrogation, in case Natasha decided to bust out some of her KGB-trained moves on them. Besides, he hoped that once they got behind closed doors, M would perk up again and start acting like her normal self.
“So,” Loki said, adding a twang of Texan drawl. “We gonna get this party started or what?”
Natasha raised a brow at him, her expression bland. “Your cashier’s check?”
“Right.” He pulled out the check Cam had had messengered over to him, drawn on the nearly depleted accounts of Norse Security. And if that didn’t remind him why he was doing all of this, nothing would. He handed the funds over to Natasha then pushed to his feet, dragging a reluctant M up beside him. “Let’s do it!”
He started back toward the hallway where Natasha had originally emerged from, thinking they’d use one of the bedrooms in the townhouse, but she stopped him short.
“Ah, no, Mr. Smith. We won’t be doing it here.” She walked back over to the front entrance and held the door open. “We have other units in which we conduct our business.”
Of course they did.
Taking M’s hand, Loki led her out into the hall then down the corridor to where Natasha had stopped in front of another door. She punched a code into the key pad on the wall then pushed inside. Loki followed, despite his misgivings. After all, there were two of them and only one of Simcova. He knew firsthand what a good fighter M was. They could take Natasha down, no problem, when the time was right.
The new unit was nothing but a glorified studio apartment. One big open room with shiny wood floors, a few windows, and a huge California King-sized bed against the wall. Natasha closed the door behind them then walked over to what appeared to be a closet in one corner of the room. Inside, from what Loki could see, was the world’s largest collection of sex toys. Everything from neon pink dildos to whips and chains and a couple wicked looking pairs of spiked hand cuffs.
Natasha emerged with a semi-automatic which she pointed at his chest. “Sit on the bed, please.”
Loki glanced over at M, who was staring at her toes, then back to Natasha. “Oh, darling. There’s no need to—”
“I know who you are, Mr. Low.” The gun remained steady in Natasha’s hand. He had no doubt she knew how to use it. “I’m not an idiot. And I can guess why you’re here as well. You want information on Todavi Marcogonoff.”
At first, Loki just blinked at her, too stunned to speak. When the hell had he given them away? He’d been so careful, played his part to a T, been—
“It’s me,” M said, as if reading his thoughts. “She recognizes me from before.”
“Before what?” Loki hissed.
“Da.” Natasha strolled over, giving up any pretenses now. “You look like you have done well for yourself, myshka.”
M raised her head at last, jaw tense. “I’ve done better than well, Mistress.”
Natasha stopped a few feet in front of them and Loki finally connected the dots. “Holy shit! You used to work for her? M? Is that true? That sure as hell didn’t show up on any of my research.”
“It wouldn’t,” M said, her gaze never leaving Natasha’s. “It was one of my first undercover gigs. I spent a year infiltrating Simcova’s circles, gathering intel on her clients, building a database of sensitive information for my client that they could use against them, if needed.”