Exit Strategy (Nadia Stafford 1)

"How did the hit go down?" Evelyn asked.

"Hit-and-run. Looked like an accident, and this Kozlov tried to tell us that is what it was, but we were not fooled. The Nikolaevs know accidents. Remember that senator? From Texas? Now that, that was genius. First, we--"

"About Kozlov," Evelyn said. "Do you remember anything else about him?"

Joe puckered his lips, obviously displeased with being cut short. I turned toward him, pulling my elbows in to spring my breasts up closer to the old man's face. His eyes zeroed in on target, lips smoothing in a smile. I inched back before my cleavage caught drool.

"Did you know Kozlov well?" I prompted.

A snort. "As you say, he was not an important man. Not important enough for me to know." He hesitated. "But, if you wish to know more, there was a man who worked for us, was friends with this Kozlov. Volkv. Nicky Volkv."

"Any idea where I'd find him?"

"More than an idea. You will find Mr. Volkv is a guest of the state, serving a life sentence for murder. Like Mr. Kozlov, he did not do so well after he left our organization."

Evelyn found out where Volkv was being held, then she thanked him and rose. "You've been a great help. If there's ever anything I can do for you..."

Little Joe turned his gaze on me. All over me. He grinned and opened his mouth, but I pressed my finger against his lips.

"I don't think you're ready for that," I said. "You look like you still have a lot of good years left ahead of you."

He barked a laugh. "Maybe, someday, if that changes, I will call you. Send me off in style."

I grinned, pressed against him and kissed his cheek. "It would be a pleasure."

As we stepped outside, Evelyn murmured, "Seems someone is quite the accomplished actor. Jack give you lessons?"

"Jack?"

"He doesn't seem the type, does he? Like you." A sly l

ook my way, as if expecting a response. When I didn't comment, she continued. "Now, me? I bet you think I'd make a good actress."

"Probably."

She took out her keys and opened the car door. "Well, I'm not. I can't stand it, and no amount of practice makes it any easier." She slid into the driver's seat and waited for me to get in before continuing. "I just never could get the hang of being someone else. Nearly blew a job over it once."

She started the car and pulled from the lot. I expected the "story" to end there but, when she reached the main road, she continued.

"I had to hit a mark at a big party. I was about your age. Now I was never what you'd call pretty, but there are ways to make men forget that. Under the circumstances, what's the easiest way to make the hit?"

"Honeypot."

"Exactly. A little vroom-vroom--like you did in there--lure your mark away, then take him out while his brain's hiding in his trousers. So I bought the dress, put on my disguise, showed up at the party, got my first really good look at the old geezer and knew there wasn't a hope in hell I could pull it off."

"Ugly?"

"Made Little Joe look like a fireman's calendar centerfold."

"So what'd you do?"

"Waited until he found a little morsel he liked, let her do the dirty work, then shot him while she was in the bathroom cleaning up afterward. Improvisation, Dee. That's what I'm good at--not acting. The point is, everyone has strengths. Jack can teach you some. I can teach you others. There's no need to limit yourself." She slid a look my way. "But remember I'm the one with the teaching experience. Jack's only ever played the pupil."

I nodded and said nothing.

By the time we made it to the jail where Volkv was being held, visiting hours would likely be over. Besides, this wasn't a "fly by the seat of your pants" type of mission. It would require planning.

As we switched places and I drove back to Evelyn's, she kept me amused with stories about Little Joe, none of which were complimentary and all of which wouldn't have been nearly so funny if I'd hadn't met the man.