39
Nikolai
I casually wipe my hands on a paper towel and drop it in the trash. In the process, I scan my enemy for any visible weapons. None are in sight, but that doesn’t mean anything. He could have a gun strapped to his ankle or tucked into the back of his jeans. And there’s definitely a knife or two in his biker boots.
Alexei Leonov is known for his appetite for violence.
“Coincidence is a funny thing,” I say calmly, preparing to reach for the Glock strapped to my chest under my jacket. “What brings you to Dushanbe?”
He grins sharply. “Same thing as you, I imagine.” Uncrossing his arms, he pushes away from the door and approaches me. Stopping in front of me, he asks, “How’s life in… where is it you are these days? Thailand? The Philippines?” Even up close, his dark brown eyes look
