The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(49)

“Mish—”

“Not a request, Lauren.”

“Fine, fine.” She was already running late and she didn’t need to waste any more time arguing with him. “Where is Luka anyway?”

“Should be down in the lobby. I’ll call to tell him you’re heading down.”

She stopped him quickly. “I’m heading down there anyway. I’ve got it.”

Though he looked like he wanted to protest, he let her leave. As the door closed behind her, instead of taking the elevator down to the entrance—since she knew Luka would more than likely be stalking the lobby—she took the service elevator down.

While she walked like Mishca’s soldiers were hiding behind every corner, she was able to speed away from the building without any hassle.

Klaus’ meeting place was only about a fifteen minute drive from where she was and if she were lucky, she could make the meeting only about twenty-five minutes late.

By the time she got there and found a parking spot, Lauren feared that Klaus wasn’t going to be at the bakery. She didn’t even see him through the large windows. For a second, she thought he had stood her up, until a large hand clamped around her arm, dragging her away from the display.

“Could you be any more obvious?” Klaus asked her as he walked them across the street.

“You’re the one that said the bakery,” Lauren argued, though it didn’t seem like he was paying much attention to what she was saying. “Is there like a code name I’m supposed to call you?”

While to all the world they might have appeared to be a couple, Klaus quickly lost that fake smile of his, scowling down at her.

“Are you done?”

They finally stopped at a relatively secluded spot. Klaus dropped down on the ground, stretching out his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, stacking his hands beneath his head as he stretched out.

It no longer felt like she was on a covert op, more like she was meeting an old friend—less friend, more hired gun.

He was now lying on his back, beanie in place, sunglasses obscuring his eyes, the dressed down version of Mishca. When she sat beside him, he even gave her a brilliantly, blinding smile that had her blinking in surprise.

“Relax,” he said, not particularly unkindly. “I’d never hurt my employer.”

She couldn’t tell whether he was always this gruff, or if it was just because of who she was.

“You never said you would do it,” Lauren said in confusion, carefully looking around to see how far they were from everyone else.

“Stop looking around.”

“Kinda hard not to do when it’s you.”

She could practically feel his glare as he turned his head in her direction, but he ignored her last statement.

“I had a meeting with one of my contacts, should hear back from him later today.”

“Okay, but why can’t I tell Mishca that I’m meeting with you. He has a right to know.”

“Did you tell the Russian where you were going?”

Frowning she said, “You told me not to…”

“Right, cause that’s such a good idea. Word of advice—”

“How about,” Lauren cut him off, already irritated, “next time you say what you mean and stop playing games. I don’t have time for this.”

He was silent, but a corner of his mouth kicked up. “Touché.”

“Why did you want to meet?”

“I talked to a contact of mine, have a meeting tonight.”

She plucked at a few pieces of grass, thinking this through. “What do you need from me?”

“Nothing at the moment,” Klaus said sitting up, brushing off his shirt. “Stay by the phone.”

“I don’t understand.” She watched him stand up, pulling his hood up. “Couldn’t you have sent this through a text message?”

“One thing you should learn about me, I thrive on pissing your Russian off.” His satisfied smirk irked her more. “You should get going, he’s waiting.”

Sure enough, across the park, idling on the street was Mishca’s Mercedes. She couldn’t really blame Klaus—though every part of her burned to hit his ass—and now she would have to confess the truth to Mishca, even if she had wanted to keep all of this from him. She didn’t bother seeing which way Klaus was going, her attention on the opening car door as Luka stepped out.

When even Luka didn’t crack a joke when she reached his side, she knew that Mishca was really upset. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she climbed into the car on the opposite side of Mishca, fiddling her thumbs when Luka slammed the door shut, jogging over to her car to take back home.

The muscle in his jaw was working as he ground his teeth, clearly holding back from laying in on her, but she wasn’t afraid of his temper.

“What are you doing here?”

“Luka called me as soon as you left.”

And she was so sure that she had given him the slip earlier. Reading her expression, he gave her a humorless smile.

She was ready to explain it all to him, but paused when she realized that he didn’t seem to be upset that she was meeting with Klaus, only that she hadn’t told him about it.

“You knew I was meeting him?”

“We had words a few days ago.”