ALICE Ch 386

Irina Orlova has her core team of six bodyguards, the amazons, as well as her expanded security detail that comes into play whenever she’s on the move.

A couple of amazons are usually near her. Another one or two tend to be near her vehicle. Annette sees only two amazons at the party, one floating and one hovering, never more than ten paces from Irina. It seems likely that the others are in the garage and near the street, ensuring that Irina has an escape route. Not that there’s any reason that she would need one, that’s just standard for high-value targets. Annette’s had occasion to be protected by bodyguards a handful of times; nothing as elaborate as Irina’s oligarch setup, but she gets the picture.

Two amazons accounted for. Four who could theoretically be anywhere. Annette can’t think of a single reason that an amazon would just be lurking in Irina’s suite, but that can’t be ruled out.

“We should be thanking our lucky stars,” Glynda murmurs.

“What?” Annette asks distractedly.

“When Irina gave us a pit crew, she gave us mercenaries. Don’t want to think about what she might’ve been planning. I’m just glad she changed her mind.”

“Yeah.” Annette tears her eyes away from Irina and finds Alice, who looks downright bizarre in a yukata. It works for her, oddly—there’s just something vaguely unreal about it. But she smiles and signs autographs while a nervous Faye sits at a table nearby, clutching a drink and looking afraid of her own shadow. Annette knows the feeling.

FF1

The amazon stands near the steps, looking quietly formidable in her unofficial uniform of a black top and dark jeans. The clothes are snug to make sure no one will fail to notice the scale of her muscles. Her hair is up in a businesslike bun, and in Japan, she cannot carry a gun. Her position offers a good view of the party, her principal, and all of the exits.

“Hey.”

She looks down to see a lovely redhead in sultry little black dress. The blushing woman comes close, running her eyes up and down the amazon in a way that she is accustomed to, although not from beauties of this caliber. From her sparkling eyes to her perky chest, tiny waist, and mouthwatering hips, this woman exudes untouchable perfection. But she is touchable; she’s making that clear as she presses herself against the amazon, gazing up at her hopefully.

The amazon clears her throat and employs her rudimentary English. “Yes.”

“I have a little wardrobe malfunction,” the redhead says, shimmying slightly and tugging at the hem of her dress. “See, I got this,” she says, holding up a condom. “But I don’t have any pockets, and if I tuck it somewhere, it pokes me. I mean, there’s worse stuff than getting poked, but you know what I mean,” she says, trailing a fingertip down the amazon’s abdomen.

The amazon didn’t understand a single word of that, but she gets the message.

“Maybe you can help me out?” the redhead asks.