Cloaked, book four of the Blind Series, is with my editor in Germany! During this “break”, I’ve started on the free write for book five. I thought you might like a little teaser. Right now, this is considered the opening scene–but that might change. Enjoy!
Book Five of the Blind Series
Paris, France – Beaumont’s Apartment
Pierre Beaumont opened the door allowing Dmitry Leznikov to enter the small apartment. Leznikov walked to the small table in the kitchenette and placed an attaché on it. Leznikov turned his head when his eye caught the movement of Beaumont’s mistress. The light shining through the window revealed her naked body and her robe was not tied. She did not attempt to cover herself as she moved toward Leznikov. She crossed in front of him, her satin robe swished with her walk, caressing Leznikov’s hips and upper thighs. Beaumont did not usher the woman from their presence. When Leznikov turned his gaze to Beaumont, the French DST agent simply smiled. The woman continued to the stove. She tiptoed to reach a teacup that sat on a high shelf. Her first attempt to secure the cup failed. When she arched up on the second attempt, her body froze in a most provocative gesture. She turned her head to look at Leznikov with her mouth slightly open and her eyes dancing with suggestion.
There was no mistaking what Beaumont was offering Leznikov. The KGB agent smiled, but his interest was with the woman whose bed he had just left. Leznikov met his mistress in Montreal, where their affair started. When the KGB recalled Leznikov to Moscow, she moved to Paris for him. Oddly, neither put expectations on each other and their relationship grew stronger with each visit. His mistress knew Leznikov could never leave his wife or Moscow, and she had no desire to live in the Soviet Union. Leznikov compared the two women. After some thought, he turned to Beaumont and said, “This one could give you trouble.”
Beaumont raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say such a thing?”
“She is too eager. She enjoys being kept,” Leznikov spat out. “She needs too much attention.”
Beaumont looked down in an attempt to hide the smile that was crossing his lips. Leznikov couldn’t be more accurate. The woman huffed at Leznikov’s words as she secured her robe around her body. She began to berate Beaumont in French, unaware that Leznikov could speak her language. When she called the KGB agent a fat Soviet pig, Leznikov couldn’t help but laugh gleefully. Beaumont began to usher her out of the room and toward the bedroom. He shut the door as his mistress continued to scold him. Beaumont returned to the table. He sat down. He motioned to the chair across from him. Leznikov took a seat. “You have just cost me a very expensive dinner out tonight.” He eyed Leznikov. “I merely thought that you would like to enjoy her as I do.”
“There is such a thing as too many mistresses.”
“No,” Beaumont replied. “There is no such thing.”
Leznikov waved his hand. “I don’t like complications, and that one would complicate things for both of us. I have a woman here in Paris, and I enjoy the arrangement we have. This,” he pointed to the bedroom. “This woman would put too much at risk. I have no interest in her.”
“She is very good,” Beaumont tempted. “You should try her first before you make up your mind.”
Leznikov examined Beaumont. Only one question entered his mind, and he decided to ask it. “Why is it so important to you that I fuck your mistress? I risk my life every time I leave my office with important documents like the ones in here.” Leznikov tapped the attaché. “Is this not enough for you? Do you think in some weak moment while fucking her that I will give you something more? There is no more. What I deliver to you is a big enough risk.”
“It was just an offer of pleasure. Why do you not trust me?”
Leznikov gave Beaumont his best sneer. “I could ask you the same question.” Leznikov let the words hang in the air for a moment. “I continue to give you helpful information, no?”
“I assume so,” Beaumont replied. “I have heard no complaints.”