Fearless Pursuit - Barbara Freethy Page 0,6

tech group and her father Daniel Bragin; Edward Coleman, a retired former attorney general of California, and Louisa Dimitrova, wife of Constantine Dimitrov, the original owner of the Russia House.

Jagger Media was of special interest to him, because Yuri had been repped by the agency. While that might not mean anything since Jagger Media represented hundreds of actors, it was a connection that Jax didn't want to overlook. There was certainly no denying the multiple links between the club and the dealership, but he needed to know how the cars were being used and for what purpose. Unfortunately, he was not getting too far, being stuck behind the bar. So far, the only scandalous conversations he'd been able to overhear had involved someone sleeping with someone else's husband or wife.

He told himself to be patient. Cases often took months to put together, but he didn't want to wait months. He wanted answers now. Yuri had died in his car, and he felt somewhat responsible for that. At least, Yuri had given him the clue to the club. After seeing the clientele, he thought it was a good bet the operation was being run out of this venue. He just needed to get downstairs. Hopefully, the plan he'd put into motion earlier would get him reassigned.

As he wiped down the bar, his gaze swept the room, and he bit back a smile as he saw one of his fellow agents make her way into the room. Caitlyn Carlson was dressed to kill in a black minidress and very high strappy heels, her reddish-brown hair falling loosely about her shoulders, her brown eyes sparkling. Caitlyn was as smart as she was beautiful, and he'd always liked her bold ideas and relentless energy. She was not one to sit back and wait, which didn't make her the greatest at undercover work, but if he needed someone to fire up a creative, outside-of-the-box idea, she was one of the first people he'd go to.

She slid onto the stool in front of him. "I'd like a vodka martini, please."

"A martini? How about a shot? You should drink vodka the Russian way."

She shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

He poured her a shot of Stoli and then reached into the refrigerator for a pickled cucumber, which he placed on a small plate, and set it next to her shot glass.

"What is that?" she asked doubtfully.

"The perfect accompaniment. Trust me."

She threw her shot down with a little shiver and then stabbed the cucumber with a small fork and took a bite. "Actually, that's not bad."

"Told you. And you can't stop with just one shot. Always two."

He poured her another glass. "How's your night going?"

"Better now," she said with a laugh. "What about you?"

"It's busy. There's a chess tournament going on in the library all weekend. First round is tonight."

He kept his tone conversational as he kept an eye out for the staff. While he'd easily made friends with most of the bar employees, the club manager, Sylvia Graham still regarded him with suspicious eyes. Apparently, Ray Shalinksi, the bar manager, was supposed to run new hires through her first, but he had not done that with Jax, and Jax was now in the middle of a territorial war—a war he could have done without.

"Will you be able to check the tournament out?" Caitlyn asked.

"It's possible. The other bartender might have car trouble."

"That would be unfortunate for him." She smiled and threw back her second shot. "I had a good day today. The weather was lovely. After I shopped on Rodeo Drive, I went to Malibu and walked on the beach. The houses along the bluff are amazing. You can see right into them. Some people probably should have closed their curtains. I took some pictures on my walk. They were surprisingly good. I sent them to you."

Considering he'd asked Caitlyn to dig into the lives of Victoria and Alexander, he was more than interested in checking those photos out.

"You said you needed a wedge," she continued, as she munched on her cucumber. "I think you might have one."

And he knew just where to stick that wedge. While he'd been avoiding Sylvia's sharp eyes, he'd been trying to build a friendship with her twenty-three-year-old son, David Graham, who worked as a parking valet. David had access to the cars and was lazy, with a bad attitude. He didn't like working at the club. He didn't seem to care much for his mother, and he liked to gamble. All that made him

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