across her nose. But it was the expression in her gaze that really caught his attention. He was used to people masking their emotions, but everything she was feeling was revealed in her eyes—uncertainty, worry, determination. She was up to something; he just didn't know what. And that made him nervous.
Chapter Three
"Do you work here?" the woman asked.
"Yes. I'm a bartender—Jax Kenin."
"Maya Ashton," she said, flashing him a wary smile.
"Why were you taking pictures of the photographs on the wall?" he asked curiously.
"You saw me?"
"I did."
"Oh. Well, my grandmother was in some of them. She was a famous movie star in the seventies and eighties. She was actually one of the original members of this place when it was the Russia House. She dated the owner, Constantine Dimitrov, for several years. Her name was Natasha Petrova. Have you heard of her?"
"It sounds familiar. She died young, right?"
"Yes, she passed away a day before her thirty-sixth birthday. I'm making a movie about her life and her death, which is why I'm here. I need to speak to Wallace Jagger. He's playing chess tonight. Do you know him?"
He was surprised to hear that name come off her lips. "I know he's a member. Why do you need to speak to him?"
"He was my grandmother's second husband. I've been trying to reach him for a while. Instead of waiting for him to call me back, I've decided to take a more proactive approach."
"You're going to ambush him."
"I wouldn't call it an ambush," Maya said defensively. "We're just going to have a conversation. And I can't imagine why he wouldn't want to talk to Natasha's granddaughter. I know he loved her at some point." She gave him a pleading smile. "Please don't kick me out. I'm not going to bother anyone."
"Except Mr. Jagger. Do you really think he'll talk to you in the middle of a chess match?"
She glanced at her watch. "I have thirty minutes before it starts. And I believe he'll want to speak to me when he realizes that I'm going to prove Natasha's death was not an accident."
Alarm bells went off in his head. "Wait a second. You're trying to prove your grandmother was murdered?"
"Possibly."
"Are you sure he's not the one who killed her?"
Maya's eyes widened. "No, Wallace wasn't the murderer. Nothing points to him. But I think he might have clues he doesn't realize he has."
"It still sounds a little dangerous."
"I'll be fine. Can I go in?"
He was torn. He didn't want to say no, but he also didn't need Wallace Jagger getting upset. That would prohibit him from striking up a conversation with the older man later in the evening.
Before he could say anything, Sylvia Graham came around the corner, giving them both a sharp look.
"The ladies' room is upstairs," he told Maya quickly. "Turn left at the top of the stairs. This area is for members only."
She started but then went along with him. "Okay, thanks. I got turned around."
As Maya moved down the hall toward the stairs, he gave Sylvia a brief smile. "Hello, Ms. Graham. How are you tonight?"
"Fine. Who was that?" she asked sharply.
He shrugged. "I don't know. She was looking for the ladies' room."
Her gaze raked his face. "You always seem to be wandering around. Why is that?"
"I don't know what you mean. Ray asked me to work the chess tournament. I was on my way when that woman asked me where the restroom was."
Sylvia stared back at him. "Ray told me you're from Shlisselburg."
"My parents were from there. I was born in Virginia, but I grew up speaking Russian." He paused. "Have I offended you in some way?"
She appeared taken aback by his direct question. "Why would you ask me that?"
"I feel like we've gotten off on the wrong foot, and I'd like to change that. I like this job, and I intend to do it well, so if there's anything I need to improve on, please let me know." It was a risk to be blunt, but sometimes being bold was the right play. If he didn't look like he had anything to hide, maybe she'd believe that.
Sylvia gave him a thoughtful look, then said, "I'll let you know, but if you want to keep your job, you should go do it."
"I'm on it." He opened the door to the library and stepped inside. As his gaze swept the large room, he was impressed by the rich, luxurious décor. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled with Russian and English books. Dark-green love