you doubting my skill?”
I glanced up at the teasing note in his voice. A smile played about Parker’s lips.
“Of course not,” I said, smiling a little myself. “It was just a question.”
“I’d imagine they’re trying to avoid scrutiny from the feds,” he said. “There was a case a few years back, a Russian bank owned by the mafia laundering millions through a New York firm. Chicago is slightly less high-profile.”
“Was Hinton working on this?” I asked.
Parker nodded. “He’d been putting this together for months. I’m stepping in at the last minute to close them.”
The waiter reappeared and took our empty plates, leaving the bill for Parker.
“So you’re sure they’re legit, then?” I asked. “Even with what happened Friday?”
Parker was busy signing the check and didn’t look up as he replied. “The deal book looks good to me. Investors will be made aware it’s a partially government-owned bank. Those with that kind of money are fully cognizant of the risks associated with investing in Russia.”
And it seemed the subject was closed. Parker hadn’t specifically answered my question, but he didn’t seem worried about it.
He stood, politely waiting for me to precede him out of the restaurant as I digested this. I trusted Parker, but I was anxious. “Former FSB aka former KGB” didn’t sound altogether reassuring to me. While I didn’t think naiveté was something Parker was prone to, I wondered if the money to be made from this deal would make him want to look the other way.
And if I were absolutely honest with myself, I was a little hurt that Parker had so quickly dismissed the way I’d been threatened Friday. It didn’t make sense. He’d seemed so angry that night, but now he’d just kind of shrugged it off. I was confused, but didn’t say anything.
The elevator ride back up to the hotel room was quiet, as was the walk down the hallway. When Parker reached around me to slide the key card into the slot, I had to push aside the strangeness I again felt as my thoughts went from Bank ZNT back to sharing a room with Parker.
Once inside, he discarded his jacket and sat at the desk, logging back in to his laptop and pulling folders from his briefcase. Copying him, I retrieved my laptop and booted it up. Looked like it was time to get to work, so we did.
Chapter Seven
A knock at the hotel room door startled me, and I glanced up from my laptop.
“I’ll get it,” Parker said, already on his way to the door.
I heard him talking and leaned over on the bed where I was sitting cross-legged with my laptop. A man stood there and I caught a glimpse of him past Parker. Shorter, with dark hair and glasses. They were talking kind of low, so I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Parker stepped inside and I hurriedly sat back so it wouldn’t be quite so obvious that I’d been eavesdropping.
“Who was that?” I asked as the door swung shut.
“Wrong room,” he replied, heading back to the desk.
I went back to work, flipping the page on the legal pad filled with Parker’s scrawl, which I was transcribing.
“Your laptop is going to overheat if you keep it on that pillow,” Parker said, glancing at me.
I looked down. I’d put the pillow on my lap so I could sit comfortably on my bed and still work on the computer without flashing Parker a crotch shot, not that he’d notice. He’d been working nonstop since we’d gotten back from lunch four hours ago.
“Well, I don’t have anywhere else to sit,” I said with a shrug.
Parker glanced at his watch. “I think I’m going to go work out before dinner. You can use the desk.”
“Okay. What time is dinner?”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Where are we going?”
“They’re sending a car,” he replied, unzipping his suitcase and taking out some clothes. He disappeared into the bathroom.
Sending a car, eh? Fancy.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and I reflexively looked up. My jaw dropped open and I quickly snapped it shut.
Parker was gorgeous in a suit and I’d rarely seen him in anything more casual. And I’d never seen him in workout clothes because—holy hell—I would’ve remembered.
He was wearing black athletic shorts and a dark gray tank that molded itself to his chest. His arms were bare and, boy, was I ever grateful for that. Muscles that his suits had only hinted at were now on full display; his biceps and shoulders were so well defined he