Leopard's Wrath (A Leopard Novel) by Feehan Christine

Author:Feehan, Christine [Feehan, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2019-11-04T16:00:00+00:00

11

“I DON’T know why men think women are the gossips,” Evangeline said, sliding into the chair across from Ania. “They’re all in the back where my husband has his office, if you can call it that—mostly he eats my pastries—and they’re talking about things I’m not supposed to overhear.”

Ania couldn’t help smiling. “Do you want to know what they’re saying?”

“Absolutely not. I like baking my pastries and selling them to happy customers. The bakery is really popular, I think thanks to the fact that I’m married to Fyodor. This is the cops’ favorite place, and there seem to be a lot of cops around.”

“I think it’s more likely your bakery is popular because your pastries are the absolute best.” Ania leaned her chin into the heel of her hand. “How’s the work coming on the coffee shop? I know the wall was torn down and building had started, but I don’t hear any hammers.”

“It’s so frustrating,” Evangeline said, wiping her hand across her forehead. “Not that I want anyone to come to work sick, but the actual work was only supposed to take a few weeks. I think it’s more like a few months. Everyone seems to have gotten the flu. The foreman said he was going to hire a few new workers. Timur wasn’t thrilled with the idea, and they went round and round.”

“Timur is like Sevastyan, isn’t he?” Ania observed. “I’m getting to know everyone a little bit better.” She frowned as she watched Evangeline press her hand to her mouth. Her hand was trembling. “Are you still sick? I thought that went away after the first few weeks.”

“I think it usually does,” Evangeline conceded. “Unfortunately, remember I told you I have hyperemesis gravidarum? It just means I get very sick and sometimes need fluids. Mine doesn’t seem to be going away. The worst is, it can reoccur with other pregnancies, which doesn’t have me looking forward to more children.”

“That’s terrible, Evangeline,” Ania sympathized. “I’d hate that.” She looked around the beautiful bakery. Clearly, Evangeline had put her heart and soul into her business. “You love this place, don’t you?”

While she carried on the conversation, she practiced watching people on the sidewalk passing by. What were they wearing? What did they look like? Height. Weight. Hair color. Could she identify them again? Sevastyan talked a lot about gait. How someone walked. They might disguise appearance, but few changed the way they walked. Cars on the street. Packages. Really pay attention to packages. Anyone walking close to the bakery. Anyone coming into the bakery. Did they have a package? When they walked out, were they still carrying the package?

She needed a lot of work on observation. On the other hand, no one could match her driving skills. No one could match going over a car looking for bombs or anything at all out of the ordinary. Cars were her thing. She could name every make, model, color, engine; she could practically tell Sevastyan what kind of wipers were on a car.

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