“Thanks, then.”
“No problem.”
A split second later, she gave a little shrug, dropping her hands to her sides. “But what would I care?”
It was a good question. He wasn’t sure why he thought she’d care about the opinions of strangers. He did know pretending to be chivalrous was a whole lot better than explaining to her that he’d been checking out Quentin’s computer.
“Who are they?” she asked, still keeping her voice low.
“Security guards. Quentin has a lot of them. Every one brawny, ill-humored and uncommunicative.”
“What did they mean that Quentin had better be persuaded?”
The question surprised Brody. No, not surprised. It shocked the heck out of him. “You speak Russian?”
“No. But they were speaking Ukrainian.”
That was another surprise. All along, he’d thought the guys were Russian.
He gave her a beat to elaborate.
She didn’t.
“Same question,” he prompted.
“Only a little. I understand it better than I speak it.” She moved away from the wall, peeping out the open door.
“And?” he asked, struggling to keep the impatience from his tone. “That’s because?”
“Oh. My best friend Nadia is Ukrainian. She grew up with her grandmother who lived across the hall from our apartment. Mrs. Ivanova was a crotchety old thing, and she didn’t speak much English. She wore baggy stockings and embroidered cloth shoes, but I liked her because she baked incredible honey cookies and Kiev cake.”
“And she taught you Ukrainian?”
Kate seemed to have a peculiar way of getting around to a point.
“Nadia and I tried to teach her English,” said Kate. “Turns out, we weren’t very good teachers.”
“But you were a good student?”
She made a tipping motion with her hand. “I was okay. Nadia’s fluent. I dabble.”
“You understood those two.”
“Only part of it.”
“What else?” Brody didn’t want to drag an unsuspecting Kate into his web of intrigue. But what she’d overheard could be important.
There were rumors Quentin had originally been financed by an Eastern European criminal organization. Assuming the rumors were true, Brody had wondered if the bodyguards might be connected to the financier. If they were, maybe they were into other kinds of crime, like corporate espionage.
One thing was sure: given the snippet of conversation Kate had interpreted, there was a real chance those men were more than just bodyguards.
“I didn’t understand most of it,” she said. “And I might be getting it wrong.”
He tried not to sound too earnest. “What exactly did you hear?”
“That Quentin could be or maybe had to be persuaded. Something about him accepting or maybe embracing Ceci.”
“Ceci?”
“That’s what I heard.”
Who was Ceci? “Did they mention a last name?”
“No.”
“Accepting her as what?”
“A girlfriend, maybe?”
“They said that?”
“I’m tossing out random guesses,” she said.
“What about the context?”
“I’m not that good.”
“But—”
“Brody, it was a tiny snippet of conversation in a foreign language from a distance. What do you want from me?”
He immediately regretted grilling her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“I don’t.” He ordered himself to take a beat and relax. “You had me curious is all. I’ve listened to those guys talk amongst themselves for weeks now and never knew what they were saying.”
She peered at him for a moment, seeming to assess his expression. Once again, she appeared smarter than he would have guessed. But then she blinked, and the expression was gone.
“Maybe that’s why he broke up with Francie,” she speculated aloud. “To be with this Ceci person.”
“I’ve never seen him with a steady girlfriend.” Then again, Brody hadn’t ever come across Francie, either. There could be any number of people in Quentin’s life that Brody didn’t know about.
“Do you suppose he has another child?” asked Kate. “Maybe those guys want him to marry Ceci because they have a baby.”
That seemed like a long shot to Brody, and not at all helpful to his investigation. He wanted the bodyguards and the mysterious Ceci to be clues to Beast Blue Designs’ theft from Shetland. Though he acknowledged that was a long shot, as well.
The thought did remind him of why he was here and what he was doing. He needed to get back at it.
“No sign of my watch in here,” he said to Kate. “Did you happen to check the dining room?”
She nodded. “I did.”
“What about the kitchen?” He wanted to get her out of the office so that he could turn off Quentin’s computer.
“Would you like me to check there?”
“That would help. I was in there a few times last night.”
“I’m surprised I didn’t see you at the party.”
“I spent most of the evening in the garden.” Lying was becoming easier and easier for him. He wasn’t sure how he should feel about that.
He hadn’t even been at last night’s party, never mind lost his watch. It was a ruse he’d concocted as an excuse to snoop around the mansion. It wasn’t the most complicated plan in the world, but he’d decided simpler was better.
She seemed to expect him to elaborate on his statement.
“With a woman,” he lied again. “Somebody I just met.”
A bit of the friendliness vanished from her expression. “Right.”
He wanted to tell her he was lying. He wasn’t like Quentin and the rest of the partiers. He didn’t have sex in the garden with random women. But telling her the truth was dangerous. Like everybody else in this world, she needed to believe he was Brody Herrington, a freewheeling concert promoter living the rock-and-roll lifestyle.
If one surprisingly interesting woman thought he was some kind of a player, then that was the price he’d pay.
“I’ll check the kitchen,” she said, turning away.
“Kate?”
She stopped without turning back. “Yes?”
He knew he was selfish to ask for her cooperation, but his family was at stake. “Don’t let on.”
She twisted her head to look at him.
“Don’t let on that you understand Ukrainian.”
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement.
“I don’t trust those guys.” That much was definitely true. “It’s probably better if you just listen.” He wished he could ask her to report back to him on what she heard,