Page 18 of Darkest Deeds
“You followed me outside?” he pants, each word broken by groans and gulps of air. “Who are you? Her fucking bodyguard?”
I smile, enjoying this more than I should. “Like I said, I thought I’d made myself clear.”
“Fine, I got it,” he sputters, pain overtaking his earlier confidence. “She’s your favorite. It—it won’t happen again.”
I lean forward, the tight smile fading from my lips. “Wrong again, Zach. You’re not very good at this, are you? I don’t pay for pussy. I told you, I don’t like repeating myself.”
An agonized cry rips from Zachary’s throat, and my pulse races at the sound of it.
“You’re right about one thing though,” I offer, grabbing his chin and turning his eyes toward mine.
“I am?”
“Yeah. It won’t happen again.”
Three seconds is all it takes to jerk the knife from his ball sack and drive it into his carotid artery. The only acknowledgement Zachary gives that his life is over is a twitch.
One twitch and then nothing.
Retrieving my jacket, I pull a crushed orange blossom from the inside pocket, toss it on the floor, and see myself out.
* * *
After a scalding hot shower,I dress in my usual black jeans, a black T-shirt, and black leather jacket. I’m not particularly obsessed with the color, it’s just practical for slipping in and out of places undetected. Plus, it matches my mood.
Once I’ve downed a heavy breakfast, I spend the rest of the next day memorizing guard positions and distance versus timing then burn everything in a dumpster outside the hotel. Leaving evidence around is a rookie mistake, and I’m not about to jeopardize a damn thing. This job means more to me than five years of Bratva training and six years of contract work combined.
Which is why this last hour has crawled by so slowly. I’m constantly checking to see if my watch is broken. I’m pacing the floor, bouncing on my toes, reloading my supply bag—anything I can do to pass the time and calm the storm raging inside my mind. It’s a losing battle. My thoughts wander exactly where I don’t want them to go.
Our fingers brush as Ava takes the stem. “An orange blossom?”
I point to the white petals. “Count them.”
Thick red hair falls over one eye as she carefully bounces a finger off each one. “Five.”
“Right. Five petals—one for each year we’ve been friends.”
“Friends.” She repeats the word slowly, her bright grin fading. Twirling the stem in her fingers, she cautiously glances up through her long lashes. “But what if we need more petals?”
Hooking my finger under her chin, I lift it, the tears in her eyes driving a knife through my heart. “Then I’ll get more flowers.”
More petals. More flowers. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give her. Nothing I wouldn’t do for her. No one I wouldn’t kill for her.
“What do I have to do to keep this one?”
“Nothing, pchelka,” I assure her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Presents are free.”
She sighs as a single tear escapes, tracing my lips. “Nothing is ever free, Niko. There’s always a price.”
There’s always a price.
The words echo inside my head as I exit the parking garage. Turn after turn, adrenaline surges through my veins mixed with a potent shot of justice.
She was right. There is always a price, and I paid it.
In another life, Ava’s father, Sergei, was my mentor. I trained by his side and hung on his every word. The man ruled without consequence. He took what he wanted, killed who he wanted, and ruined whoever got in his way.
I spilled blood for him. I pledged my loyalty to him. Then I was led to slaughter.