to tell the mafia he let one of his people steal their money. He would have had to quietly replace it, most likely from his own private fortune, completely separate from the company. That couldn’t have been fun.”
So far everything Viktor and Karina had told him was lining up, Luke thought, dread beginning to pool in his gut. He’d wanted nothing more than to have Jensen tell him otherwise. He didn’t know why Viktor would have lied, especially when the man knew he had the resources to check the story. That hadn’t stopped him from spending much of the past day trying to think of a reason. Anything to make it easier to turn down the ridiculous request made by Viktor.
And Karina.
Which brought them to the main topic. “What about Fedorov’s wife?”
“I assume you mean his current wife, Karina, since that’s the name you gave me on the phone. Karina Andreevna Fedorova. Nearly two decades his junior. They’d been married for five years before his death.”
“How old is she now?” Luke asked, the question rising automatically to his tongue. He immediately regretted it. It really wasn’t relevant.
“Twenty-eight.”
Five years, Luke thought. She’d been so young when she’d married, especially a man so much older. Or maybe that wasn’t so unusual in Russia. It was something else he didn’t know, which was why he really had no business getting involved in any of this.
Jensen continued, “She worked for an upscale interior designer in Moscow. She left Russia within days of her husband’s death, the timing of which probably isn’t a coincidence. Most likely she knew what her husband was doing and why he was killed, and knew it was time to get out of dodge. Lucky for her, she had a connection of her own, Sergei Yevchenko, a consul with the Russian embassy in D.C. He arranged to bring her here, and she was staying with him up until his sudden death a week ago.” Jensen stopped, his brows going up in silent question. “Which I’m guessing is what brings us here today.”
Luke nodded.
“I’m still curious about your interest in this. Yevchenko’s murder was certainly highly publicized. A foreign diplomat, especially one from a high-profile country with an always delicate relationship with the U.S., being murdered is big news. But I’m pretty sure neither his goddaughter nor the connection to Solokov was mentioned in the press. Which makes me wonder how you knew about it.”
Luke took a slow, deep breath. And so it began. He’d been prepared for this moment, but had hoped to be able to avoid it. If only Jensen had been able to prove Viktor’s story a lie, or that what Karina Fedorova faced was not so dire. But here they were.
“I’m involved with her.” A lie, the first of many, laying the necessary groundwork if he actually went through with this.
For a moment, Jensen didn’t seem to understand, his brow furrowing. “Fedorov’s wife?” Luke nodded. “How involved?”
“Very.”
Jensen released a low whistle. “You might want to rethink that.”
A whisper of a smile played against Luke’s mouth. “I might. But some things aren’t quite so easy to say no to.”
Jensen frowned and gave a little shake of his head. “You know, in all the years I’ve known you, I don’t remember you ever being ‘very involved’ with a woman.”
That was because he hadn’t been, not as long as Jensen had known him. “What can I say? I was waiting for the right one. Karina’s something special.”
“Can’t argue with you there. I saw a few pictures. She’s quite attractive. But no woman is worth the kind of trouble this one brings with her.”
“Is there any evidence Solokov is coming after her, any proof Yevchenko’s death is connected to all of this?”
The look Jensen gave him was clearly pitying. “It’s not likely to be a coincidence.”
“And yet, they happen sometimes.”
“Not in this case, they don’t. A high-ranking Russian diplomat falling victim to a drive-by shooting is not something that simply happens. No, he was taken out. It takes a lot of hubris to pull something like that, and from what I hear, that’s one thing Solokov isn’t lacking.”
“So what will happen to her?”
“The way I hear it, she’s due to be sent back to Russia ASAP.”
“Which is what Solokov wants.”
“I imagine. He wouldn’t have gone to this much trouble if he didn’t. He must think she was involved with her husband’s theft, and either has the money or knows where it is. It makes sense, considering she knew to run.”
Or she was there when Solokov’s men came for her husband and barely managed to escape herself, Luke thought. But of course, there was no way for Jensen or anyone else to know that.
“Is there any chance she’ll be able to protect herself from Solokov if she’s sent back?”
A hint of sympathy flashed across Jensen’s face. “Doesn’t look like it. She may be a thief like her husband, but we’re not talking about someone with the background or the connections to go head-to-head with Solokov. She’s an interior decorator. She finds pretty things to fill the homes of rich people. Some of those rich people might be able to help her, but even if they could, what happened to her godfather would probably give them second thoughts.”
“There’s no chance our government will grant her some kind of asylum?”
“On what grounds? She’s not a target of political persecution, at least not in any way that would qualify. Besides, a Russian diplomat was murdered on American soil. The U.S. government is not about to interfere with anything the Russians want at the moment, and right now, they want her shipped back to Moscow.”
“Where she’ll be completely at Solokov’s mercy.”
Jensen’s eyes grew shrewd. “No doubt. Something I’m sure she knows, too. Which may be why she became involved with you. Maybe she’s looking for someone to marry her so she can stay in the country.”
“She’s not like that,” Luke said automatically, somehow managing to keep the irony out of his tone.
“She’s not, huh? Then why do I get the feeling you knew most of this before I told you? Was it because she told you? Maybe she already asked you to marry her to save her. Or is that an idea you came up with on your own because you want to save her since you’re so ‘very involved’?”
With practiced ease, Luke let the words bounce off him, not letting a single muscle twitch or blink of the eye give the slightest indication Jensen’s comments had hit home. Odd to think that Jensen was right, and yet hadn’t even managed to come up with the real way this had all come about. That was how outlandish it was.
Luke shot the man a wry smile. “Does that sound like something I would do?”
He waited to see how the man would respond, a test run of how someone who knew him would react to the idea.
For a long moment, Jensen simply
