Free More Than Life by Garrett Leigh

Chapter One
     
     
    Cheap tobacco smoke gathered like an ominous cloud in the dingy Serbian bar. Mikail sat in a secluded corner at the very back. He twirled the half empty glass in front of him and shifted in his seat, impatient. A grainy, torn photograph burned a hole in his pocket, his only clue to the mysterious man he was waiting to meet, a man who claimed to be his family’s newest ally in their secret war to survive.
    Ally or foe?
    Mik couldn’t be sure, but over the past few days, he’d memorized the man’s blurred features, and with a subtle, practiced motion, he studied each face in the hazy bar and took careful, mental notes, listing his fellow patrons—the couple enthralled in each other by the front window, and the boisterous group of men at the table opposite. In the far corner, an affluent man sat alone, drinking vodka and reading a newspaper. Mik watched him for a while…wondering, but the man was too fat to be his intended companion.
    Mik looked away and forced himself to relax, outwardly, at least. He’d learned long ago to hide his careful scrutiny, and of late, his life had come to depend on it. Now, with his attention split between the bar’s entrance and its shabby interior, he saw everything .
    The shadow of a man darkened the doorway. Mik tensed, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Mik saw he was tall—well over six feet—with hard eyes and dark hair, half hidden by a grubby baseball cap. He moved to the bar and ordered his drink, then he turned and scanned the bar. Mik watched his cool gaze sweep the smoky room and he took advantage of the brief window to analyze him. Years ago, the man wouldn’t have caught his attention, at least not for the reasons he noticed him now. To the untrained eye, the guy was everything he appeared to be—respectable and Russian . But Mik knew better. The man was American, and while that meant without a doubt that he was the contact Mik had been waiting for, it also made him a symbol of everything he had ever wanted. Peace, freedom… a future.
    Those things alone made Mik hate him on sight.
    Still, when the man turned back Mik felt as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. The description scrawled on the back of his photograph did the stranger little justice. His dark hair was obviously dyed, and with his blue eyes and golden skin, he was the stuff of Mik’s sweetest dreams.
    Perhaps sensing eyes on him, the stranger found Mik’s gaze. They stared at each other, before the man lifted his chin in recognition. He moved across the crowded space. Mik watched him, feeling a deep-rooted anticipation take hold in his belly. The flutter of attraction. He dampened it down, reminding himself of the gravity of their meeting, but that didn’t slow his stampeding heart as the guy fist-bumped his shoulder, beginning their charade of old friends meeting up for a quick beer after work.
    The man stooped for a fraternal, backslapping embrace. He put his lips close to Mik’s ear. “Mikhail?”
    He spoke quietly and the low rumble traveled through Mik. “Yes.”
    The word sounded choked. Mik pulled back and found himself lost in the stranger’s eyes. They were crystal clear, like the hidden lake in the mountains behind Pristina, and Mik had never seen eyes like that before. Back home, everyone’s eyes were brown, like his own, so deep and dark they were almost black.
    The man sat down, his elbows on the table, smooth and casual. “I kinda figured you’d be older.”
    Mik bristled, though he felt the weight of the man’s inspection all over him. He wasn’t a rookie, and however attractive the American appeared to be, Mik had a job to do, and he couldn’t fail. The lives of people he loved depended on the outcome of this meet, and there was no room for fuck-ups. “I’m old enough.”
    The man smirked, and Mik inhaled a subtle, calming breath. He’d been just a boy when his father took him to his first underground meeting, but he was a seasoned