Secured By The Seal. Carol Ericson

back door of the club scraped open, and Alexei lunged for the office door and pulled it closed.

      The waitress hissed at him. “It’s not going to lock.”

      He put his finger to his lips as he took a step forward. Placing both hands on the waitress’s shoulders, he pushed down, urging her back beneath the desk.

      She scrambled for cover.

      Alexei pulled out his weapon. Coiling his muscles, he flattened his body on the other side of the door and waited. If the door wouldn’t lock, he’d better be ready for whoever came through it.

      A man’s footsteps thumped against the carpet and then scuffed on the wood floor in the bar area. The footsteps seemed to recede or had stopped altogether. Soft clinking noises carried down the hallway, and then a few minutes later the man’s boots clumped on the wood again and were muffled by the carpet as he walked toward the office.

      Alexei watched the door handle, his hand wrapped around the barrel of his gun, ready to strike. The steps carried on. The back door opened and shut.

      The woman beneath the desk sighed and whispered, “Is it safe to come out now?”

      “For now, unless he comes back in.”

      She crawled from beneath the desk and brushed off her short black skirt as Alexei averted his gaze from the smooth expanse of her thigh.

      Wedging her hands on her hips, she said, “You don’t work here.”

      “Maybe not, but Sergei’s not going to be happy when he finds out you were searching his office.”

      “You can’t tell him that without revealing you broke into the club.” She jutted out her chin and crossed her arms, daring him.

      “An anonymous phone call would do the trick. He’s a suspicious guy.”

      She tossed her head, flicking a swath of hair over her shoulder. “I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me. I don’t care why you broke in here tonight, but I’m not going to be blamed if you decide to rob the place.”

      “That’s where we differ.” He raised one eyebrow. “I do care why you’re here after hours, and don’t give me that story about needing a place to stay. You didn’t need to be in Sergei’s office for that.”

      “I—I thought he might have a couch in here.”

      Alexei held up his hand. “Save it. You do realize we’re both on camera, don’t you?”

      “Where?” The waitress widened her eyes and cranked her head back and forth. “How?”

      “I’m not sure where all the cameras are, but he has one in that corner.” He pointed to a camera perched on top of a tall bookshelf. “He probably has one at the back door, too.”

      “Then we’re both in trouble if Sergei decides to review the footage.” She twisted her fingers in front of her. “I can’t lose this job.”

      Alexei tilted his head, his gaze sweeping the woman from head to toe. Why did she care so much about a job as a cocktail waitress in a dumpy topless bar in Hollywood—or did she care about being in this club specifically? If so, he needed to find out why.

      “I have no intention of either of us being caught.” Alexei pulled his phone from his pocket and accessed the club’s video files that his friend at the CIA had hacked for him. A few taps later, he accessed the night’s footage. He paused it as an African American man used a key to get through the back door.

      “This is the guy who was just in here.” He held out the phone for the woman. “Do you recognize him?”

      She nodded. “That’s Jerome Carter, one of the bartenders. How did you get—”

      “Never mind.” Alexei tapped into a different camera and dragged his finger along the counter until Jerome appeared at the bar. “What do you think he’s doing?”

      Leaning in, her hair tickling the back of his hand, the waitress squinted at the display. “He’s doing something behind the bar. The camera isn’t picking it up.”

      “Do you think he’s stealing something?” He jabbed his finger at the screen of his phone. “Looks like he’s shoving something in his pocket, but that might be his phone.”

      “If Jerome has keys to the bar...and Sergei’s office, I’m pretty sure he knows about the security cameras.” She circled her finger above his phone. “I’m also pretty sure he doesn’t have the ability to hack into the security footage. How—”

      “You’re right. Maybe he just forgot something. Has Sergei had any problems with Jerome in the past?”

      “You’re asking me?” Her voice squeaked as she drove a thumb into her chest. “This is my first night working here.”

      Alexei’s pulse jumped. A cocktail waitress snooping around her boss’s office her first night on the job?

      “Well, whatever Jerome was doing here, it’s his lucky night. Sergei’s not going to find out about it.” He selected each of the four camera views and deleted the footage.

      “Isn’t Sergei going to be suspicious that he has no footage from tonight?”

      “But he will.” Alexei made a few more selections on his phone. “Just none showing any activity in the club after hours.”

      “Whew.” She hugged the small purse hanging across her body. “Then I guess I’m glad I ran into you tonight. Thanks.”

      She made a move toward the door, and Alexei put his hand on her arm. “Not so fast. Since I saved your...behind, I want something from you in return.”

      A pink flush crept into her cheeks as she glanced at his fingers curled around her upper arm.

      He released his hold and cleared his throat. “I want to know what you were doing here tonight. You already know I’m not going to rat you out to Sergei...or the police.”

      “Police?” She put a hand to her throat. “I wasn’t here to steal.”

      “I believe you.”

      “Why should I tell you anything?”

      “Because I hold all the cards.”

      She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. A furrow formed between her eyebrows. “I’m not staying here another minute.”

      “I agree. It’s Hollywood. There’s a twenty-four-hour diner halfway down the block. Let’s talk there.”

      Taking a step back, she reached for the doorknob behind her. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You could be some crazed killer or something.”

      “If I’d wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.” He touched the gun in his waistband. “What reason would I have to kill you? As far as I can tell, we’re on the same side.”

      “Side?” Her gaze flicked to his weapon and back to his face. “There are sides?”

      “If you’re worried, you drive over in your own car and I’ll meet you there. Do you know the restaurant I’m talking about?”

      “Half a block down on this side of the street.” She dragged a keychain from her purse and dug some putty out of the lock on the doorjamb with a key.

      He raised his eyebrows. “Is that how you got into the office?”

      “Yep.” She squeezed past him into the hallway, and her light perfume lingered beneath the smells of the club that still clung to her clothes and hair.

      She turned suddenly, bumping his shoulder as he locked Sergei’s office. “What would stop me from driving right home?”

      “The fact that I can still call Sergei and tell him to keep an eye on his new waitress.” He watched her green eyes darken to chips of glass. “And