Predator: A Crossbow Novel by Wilbur Smith & Tom Cain

Author:Wilbur Smith & Tom Cain [Smith, Wilbur & Cain, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, War & Military, Genre Fiction, War, Thrillers & Suspense, Military, Suspense, Thriller, Thrillers
ISBN: 9780062276537
Amazon: B0111ZUYTE
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2016-03-22T05:00:00+00:00

Ten days had passed since the Caracas operation. Cross and O’Quinn were back in London and preparations for the offshore assignment at the Magna Grande field were in full swing when Nastiya’s phone started ringing and she saw Yevgenia’s name pop up on the screen.

“I just had a call from da Cunha,” her younger sister said.

“Did you give him the numbers that Papa got for us?” Nastiya asked.

Yevgenia giggled. “He didn’t seem awfully interested in them. He was much more interested in your private number.”

“I hope you didn’t give it to him—the real one.”

“No, I told him I’d get in touch with you and let you know he’d called.”

“Good.”

“So are you going to call him?”

Nastiya knew that her sister was smiling in a conspiratorial, gossipy sort of way as she asked the question. She replied in what she hoped was a flat, businesslike fashion: “Why? I found out what I needed to know. There’s nothing to be gained by talking to him again.”

“He sounded very sexy,” Yevgenia wheedled. “You know, with his French accent . . .”

“To some people, maybe.”

“Well, I thought he was very charming.”

“Yes, he’s got charm all right . . .”

“Oh, so you do like him!” Yevgenia exclaimed, delighted to have caught Nastiya in her trap.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Come on, admit it, you think he’s sexy.”

Nastiya decided it was time to show who was in control. “Let me remind you, little sister, that I am a married woman and I love my husband, so even if I can see how other women might think a man was attractive, that doesn’t mean that I find him attractive myself.”

“Well, then, tell me what another women would see when she looked at Mateus da Cunha?”

“Hmm . . .” Nastiya wondered whether to end the conversation right here and now. But Yevgenia was her long-lost sister and one of the things sisters did—or so Nastiya assumed—was swap tittle-tattle about men, so she went along with Yevgenia’s question. “Well, another woman would see a man who’s about one meter eighty-five tall . . .”

“Ooh, I like that! It means that even in my highest heels I still have to tilt my head up to kiss him. Does he have a good body?”

“I think it’s clear that he takes regular exercise, yes.”

“And is he black? I’ve never had a black boyfriend. Papa would go crazy!”

“He’s mixed race: his mother is French. So his skin is paler than a full-blooded West African and his facial features are more Caucasian: narrower nose, thinner lips.”

“What about, you know . . . down there? Is that African? I hope so!”

Almost certainly, Nastiya thought, but what she said was, “How should I know?”

“Oh, don’t play the innocent with me, big sister! I bet you know exactly how big he is!”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“Then I’ll just have to find out for myself!”

Now Nastiya really was concerned. Yevgenia wasn’t nearly ready to take on a man like da Cunha. “No, Yevgenia, don’t do that,” she said. “Listen to me, this

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