She was too young for hot flashes. She resisted the urge to fan herself—or strip. “Do you know much about them?” Elena asked, once more turning Carey’s attention to the grave situation and away from the odd and alarming reaction at shaking Dmitry’s hand. “I have some info on the local D.C. branch.” Carey shrugged, her body fatigued. “The boss’s name is Mikhail. I didn’t catch a last name,” she said, pulling her phone from her jeans pocket. She found the photo of the other man and showed it to them. “This is Thug Number One. I had to call him something,” she added, noticing their odd expressions. “Don’t recognize him,” Elena said just as the baby started crying. “Excuse me.” She froze as Elena left the room, leaving her with Dmitry. She was completely unprepared to deal with this situation, and she sensed his presence nearby, heard him breathing and could smell his spicy scent that made her want to lean close and run her tongue over his skin to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
