Risk of Exposure (Alpha Ops Book 6) Read Online Free Page A

her. He should have known to keep away. “Lead on,” he said.
    “You’re very trusting,” she said, nodding up an alley and then leading the way. “I could be leading you into a den of organized crime and terrorists.”
    “Frankly, at this stage, as long as they fed me, I wouldn’t even care.”
    A gratifying chuckle floated back in the cold air.
    At the end of the alley, there was a metal door; the only sign was a tiny plaque with Cyrillic lettering on it. She yanked open the door and took the metal stairs two at a time. Maybe she was taking him somewhere sketchy.
    By the time they’d reached the second landing, he could hear voices and clinking of plates and glasses. She opened another metal door and stood back for him to enter. He laughed. “How did you ever find this place?”
    For all the metal doors and stairs, the huge room was decked out like an Alpine lodge, wooden floors, walls, and ceilings, with thick wooden bench tables. The smell of food and beer almost brought him to his knees. In the short time he’d been in country, he’d found only snack foods at the train station.
    “The owner of the orphanage recommended it. He used to come here all the time with his family. Hans, the guy who owns the restaurant, is the third generation to run it. Everyone in town knows this place—and out-of-towners don’t. Which suits everyone quite well.”
    The guy behind the bar looked exactly how a Hans should look: tall, beefy, with hands the size of frying pans.
    She held up her hand to get Hans’s attention and then pointed at a free table. He nodded at her, but his eyes were on Mal.
    “Are you going to be in trouble for bringing an outsider here?” he asked, taking a seat opposite her.
    “Probably, but I’m a risk taker.” She grinned, took her leather jacket off, and shivered. “Surprising how cold it can get here so early in the year, isn’t it?”
    “Why don’t you keep your jacket on, then?” he asked, still wondering about the trouble she thought may be coming.
    “The food I’m ordering is hot. Super hot. Trust me,” she said.
    “I have no idea why I keep trusting you, but okay. I’m in your hands. All evening.” Dammit, why had he said that?
    “Good to know, Malone. Good to know.” She leaned back and tilted her head. “So why are you here again? How long have you been here, and where did you come in from?”
    “Wow. You kiss the Spanish Inquisition with that mouth?” He smiled.
    She laughed, tipping her head back, showing the creamy, smooth skin of her neck. He wondered what she smelled like. What she tasted like. Shit, Mal. She’s Baston’s daughter. Take it down a notch.
    Hans rumbled to the table and brought two beers with what looked like vodka chasers. “Raclette?” he asked.
    “Please,” she said. “Hans, this is my brother, Malone.”
    What? What the fuck? He fished around in his repertoire for an American accent that sounded approximately like Baston’s. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said, standing and holding out his hand.
    Hans’s face broke into a wide smile as he shook hands with Mal. “Indeed, indeed. Welcome to you, sir.”
    “Thank you.” He retook his seat as Hans bustled off. “What was that all about?”
    She shrugged. “Hans is a lovely man, and he likes me. I didn’t want to admit that I’d picked up a man on the side of the road—a man I know nothing about—and brought him to his restaurant. He would worry. Now he won’t worry.”
    He sat back in admiration. “Wow, you can lie really well. I mean, it just came out of you, no hesitation, no planning. Are you a sociopath?”
    She downed her shot of vodka in one and it could have been water for the reaction she showed. “I don’t know. I’ve never been tested. Maybe.” She raised her eyebrows at him as she took a sip of the frothy beer. “Then again, you’re the one who came up with the accent in a split second. Nicely done, by the way. Are you sure you’re not American, just pretending to be