Crossing the Line by Barbara Elsborg, Deco, Susan Lee Page B

Katya removed her sandals. They looked terrible with the new dress. Barefoot was better.
    The restaurant was busy, the light dim and that suited her fine. She heard Russian spoken by the diners as she walked to her spot in the corner. Next time she’d walk more slowly, listen more carefully.
    Once she started to play, her agitation faded. Music could help her through this. It brought calmness when everything else failed. She imagined herself back in Moscow playing for her parents and the notes melted from her fingers as she lost herself in the melody. She chose their favorites, kept the volume low and moved seamlessly from one piece to another. One of the diners wrote the name of a song on a ten dollar bill and before long Katya had a pile of bills and a glass of wine by her side.
    She ate alone in the employee’s room. The first food in over twenty-four hours and it looked beautiful, the chef an artist as well as a cook but she had to force herself to swallow.
    By the end of the evening, she was amazed to have almost a hundred and fifty dollars in tips. After she’d packed away her violin, she knocked on the door of Dimitri’s office.
    “Finished?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “And you’d like to be paid?”
    “Please.”
    He took out his wallet and gave her two fifties. She offered him twenty and he laughed. “Keep it.”
    “But you said eighty.”
    “Buy some shoes, Cinderella.”
    As she stepped outside, she spotted Nik on the sidewalk.
    “Need a ride? I was in the neighborhood.”
    Her heart thumped. Had he really just been in the neighborhood? But she was reluctant to waste money on a cab.
    “How did it go?” he asked as he pulled away.
    “Fine.”
    “Does he want you tomorrow?”
    “I—he didn’t say.”
    “Then he does. So where am I taking you, my bed or your place?”
    “You can’t be this desperate.”
    Nik laughed. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
    “Is it the challenge? Has every other girl found you irresistible?”
    “Not every girl. You’re special.”
    “Please,” she said. “You’re not even trying to sound sincere.”
    “I am. Don’t tell me you’ve never slept with a guy the first day you met him.”
    Joy and sorrow clogged her throat. She thought about asking Nik to drop her away from the hotel, then decided not to bother. He was all mouth.
    “Thanks for the lift,” she said. “I hope you’re not upset I don’t find you irresistible.”
    “I expect I’ll survive until tomorrow and I don’t give up easily.”
    As she began to get out of the car, she twisted to face him. She might as well ask. “Do you know a man called Petrenko?”
    He shook his head. “Who is he?”
    “Someone my uncle knew. I thought I’d look him up.”
    “Don’t know anyone of that name.”
    Katya had the distinct impression he was lying, but was that because she wanted it to be the case?
    Up in her room, she put a chair against the door, showered and lay naked on the bed. She still could hardly believe she was here. Battered, bruised but a step further toward finding Petrenko, the man who had killed her sister, and her family, and destroyed her life.

    After Galya’s murder, her crazy father had persuaded her to go to the FSB and offer to do the same job as her sister, work undercover, but her first assignment had to be finding her sister’s killer. Katya couldn’t help but think he didn’t love her as much as he’d loved Galya. She’d been so scared, and they’d laughed at her. Her father thought she’d given up, and knowing she’d disappointed him, she kept returning, pestering them to listen. She pointed out that as a woman, she was emotionally and psychologically better suited to work for them than a man. Not perhaps the most sensible thing to say to a group of bigoted chauvinists.
    Finally, one officer offered to give her a formal interview and she’d dressed up, thinking it was her chance to impress. She knew she had an orderly mind, was practical, had excellent