Assassin by Day

by Tessa Robertson

  Assassin by Day

  Tessa Robertson

  Copyright © 2017 by Tessa Robertson

  Image: Adobe Stock © XtravaganT

  Design: soqoqo

  Editor: Maureen Vincent-Northam

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Crooked Cat Books except for brief quotations used for promotion or in reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously.

  First Black Line Edition, Crooked Cat Books. 2017

  Discover us online:

  www.crookedcatbooks.com

  Join us on facebook:

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  and something nice will happen.

  For the soulmates we cross,

  but never know;

  To the heartbreaks we feel,

  but never show;

  Acknowledgements

  First off, I’d like to thank my incredible publisher, Crooked Cat, editor, and cover designer for without them, a writer is lost.

  Secondly, many thanks to my fellow writer friends for keeping me motivated during difficult editing and re-writes.

  Lastly, my deepest thanks to Zach aka Cloud McDaniel. You show me daily that dreams are only fulfilled when you throw your entire soul in them. Without your encouraging aura, I’d be knee-deep in Starbucks and blank pages.

  About the Author

  Tessa Robertson has been landlocked in the heart of Iowa, USA for the better portion of her life. She grew up on sci-fi and action movies, but isn’t nearly a ninja...yet. Since childhood, writing stories and reading have been a constant. Moonlighting in a law firm, she takes on her favorite cases: criminal. Her stories push the limits of standard characters and explore the thriller facets of romance and action.

  In her spare time, Tessa attempts to teach her Australian Shepherd and Golden Retriever new tricks; spends copious time with family; catches up on her favorite shows; and listens to country music.

  Assassin by Day

  Chapter One

  Blood trails down my ivory fingers and slides onto the freshly buffed hospital floor. The constant drips splatter into a puddle, the sound lulling my havoc riddled mind. This wasn’t an accident, though it’s an unfortunate turn of events. I merely wanted to talk to the weathered brain surgeon about my mother.

  Flashing red lights erupt from the corners of every hallway as I stand over the collapsed doctor. The accompanying siren pierces my ears, informing me the old man somehow called for help without my knowledge.

  “Mishka, please, don’t do this,” he begs as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

  If I hurry, I could save him, but I won’t. My sea blue eyes scan the battered body before me. Tilting my head, I wish I had taken my time. I would’ve gleaned more information. Oh, well. I’ve done all that I can.

  After wiping my hands on my dark jeans, I slip my dagger into the small of my back. The jingling of security guard’s keys echoes down the empty halls, so I slink backwards until I reach the stairwell. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the grotesque scene if I tried, but the underpaid and out of shape cop-wanna-be arrived at last.

  With as much quiet as possible, I open the door to the stairs and take one last glimpse of the one man who could give me answers without the need of violence. Ha. Evidentially, that didn’t work out as planned.

  My heeled boots click down the steps as thundering footfalls advance on my recent disaster. I shouldn’t care about the rotting corpse now three flights up. Death is inevitable in my line of work.

  Reaching the bottom flight, I peer up at the weaving stairwell. Though the doctor was my mother’s secret lover, I feel no regret in opening his veins. He should’ve told me more when I asked him yesterday as I feigned a brain tumor. Don’t ask how, but I managed to get my grimy fingers on a few extremely convincing CT scans.

  I flick my chestnut braid over my shoulder and it rests between my bony shoulder blades. Mom taught me how to braid my hair like a legend. It’s one of the few things I miss about her. That and her borscht. No matter my mother’s faults, I’m determined to uncover the person responsible for her ill-timed disappearance. Her paramour was but one name on a long list of potential killers.

  Nudging the door to the outside world with my shoulder, I let out a satisfied breath. I’ve successfully got away with murder. Again. The police won’t find my fingerprints or even a sliver of my presence at the hospital. I scrubbed the surveillance cameras and properly discarded my link to the prestigious surgeon. This ordeal isn’t my first.

  Police cars arrive as I confidentially walk to my Triumph Thunderbird and fish my keys out of my pants’ pocket. No, I’m only beginning my rendezvous with the truth. I may not have found it tonight, but I have enough intel to get me there soon. Very soon.

  “Rory?” a voice calls as I straddle the black bike. “Rory Vald?”

  Craning my neck, I hold in my disappointment when I see the officer advancing. I don’t remember the last time I saw him. Well, I do, but I choose to push it from my mind. He’s the singular person who uses my middle name. He always has. Then again, it’s probably because he doesn’t know my given first name and I prefer to keep it that way. It’s sad he doesn’t know the truth, but it’s safer this way.

  I don’t bother correcting him as I wait until the epically tall cop is beside me. “Hey, Eddie.”

  Edward Harper, police officer to the great city of Richmond, looks more confused than the doctor I left. “What’re you doing here?”

  Toying with my helmet, I openly gawk at his form. His body is more defined than last I saw him, if that’s even possible. The ex-Air Force airman turned cop bodes well for him. He didn’t chub up with donuts like his buddies. His body is lean with muscles for days.

  Ignoring my obvious attraction, I offer him a sly smirk. “I didn’t know you were back.”

  “I’ve been back for a year,” he informs, squinting his blue eyes. “I tried to call you.”

  I purse my lips in thought. “Hmm, yeah, I didn’t get a voicemail.”

  “You changed your number.” With his hands on his hips, Eddie is quite the sight. “Are you really going to ignore our relationship?”

  Straightening my back, I focus on the hospital overrun with police. I don’t want to talk any more. I’ve had enough for one night and hashing out a breakup with my ex-boyfriend isn’t in the cards.

  “Sorry, Eddie, I need to go. Good luck with your investigation.”

  “How did you—?” Eddie adjusts his belt and flicks his gaze to the hospital. “What did you do?”

  Pulling on my helmet, I flash him a wink. “Nothing new.”

  I flip on the ignition and nod at him before rolling by his puzzled demeanor. It’s a cat and mouse game for us. He’s on one side of the law, and I’m most assuredly on the opposite. He isn’t aware of who I am, not entirely. He suspects, but has never confronted me when I happen to show up at fresh crime scenes.

  He yells something after me, but I open the engine. The bike screams through the empty parking lot. Ultimately, the finest officer of Richmond’s police department will come for me, though he’ll never haul me away in cuffs. I make sure of it just as I ensure any time we cross paths, I have a reason.

  ***

  In silence, I return to my apartment of five years. I take the stairs this time, though the elevator was tempting. Everything is quiet as I turn my key into the deadbolt lock, and for that I’m thankful. The last thing I need is a distraction.

  I pass a kitchen full of thugs playing poker and meander to a bedroom. The darkness
is a welcomed force, and one I cling to. Carefully, I slip into my room and slide the latch in place.

  Though this is my apartment, it isn’t completely mine. I share it with my pre-arranged fiancé, Alexei Petrovich. With our sharing nature comes his horde of followers, and they’re not the friendliest bunch.

  A shout of glee drifts down the hall and to my ears. “Looks like someone won the pot.”

  Chucking my trench coat to my dresser, I cross to my French doors. Opening the doors, I let the cool night breeze blow in from the tiny balcony. I lean my forearms on the thin railing and gaze at the bustling city. Richmond is busy despite the midnight hour. If I could enjoy the hustle without repercussions, I would in a heartbeat.

  I close my eyes and mull over the recent events. I drained tidbits of information from my mother’s former liaison, but it’s not enough. The whisperings that the skhodka was part of her demise have me on edge. If Alena Vald was a traitor, she deserved her fate.

  Glancing to the cigarette burn on my hand, I resolve that I don’t miss her. A mother figure, yes, but not someone who set up her daughter to become Russia’s most deadly assassin.

  Through the silent night, the sound of my phone buzzing forces my eyelids open. I recognize the vibrations as Morse code and pad to where the phone sits on the bedside table. Flipping on the screen, I read the combination of symbols and letters. This way of communication was learned at a young age and in the most desolate Russian wasteland.

  Slamming the phone to the oak table, I inhale slowly. The people I work for are relentless and unyielding. They aren’t pleased their mob surgeon is dead. Stripping off my shirt, I determine to address the conundrum in the morning. I want to sleep, not think.

  A shadow flickers across the lone lamp glowing in my room. At the whiff of a tangy cologne, I pause my movement. The Dolce and Gabbana classic scent hits my nostrils as a comforting wave.

  “Nickolas Volkov,” I breathe as the cedar and amber hues assault me.

  “Miss me?” His quiet question fills the room nearly as much as his form.

  Turning my head to a dark corner, a smile plays my lips. “Now, why would I?”

  Nickolas advances on me, his apparel impeccable as usual. He spares no cost to dress in the best designers the world offers. “Because you love me.”

  If I had a dollar for every time he mumbled those words, I’d live on my own private island. “Me and a hundred other women.”

  His compelling blue eyes are the epitome of Russia. I swear they’re the crowned jewels of the Icelandic tundra. Not bothering to slip a shirt on, I march to him and poke his Armani encrusted chest.

  “You’ve been gone a while. What makes you think I care at all?”

  A conniving smirk covers his face, displaying a faint dimple on the left cheek. “Because we’re the same, my love,” his tepid accent coos.

  “I highly doubt it.” I retreat to the balcony. “Alexei will be pissed if he finds out you were in my room.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he would if he knew.” His footsteps are closer, but I don’t dare turn around. A moment of silence ensues as we gaze out into the darkness. “I heard what you did tonight.”

  I shrug. “Then you know how dedicated I am to this cause.”

  “Maybe you need help.”

  “From who? You?” I twirl around, my eyebrows raised in question.

  Nodding, he meets my eyes. “I think we could benefit from a union.”

  I snort and roll my eyes.

  “Not that kind of union,” his gaze flutters down my rosecolored bra. “Yet.”

  If I knew how to blush, I wouldn’t. We have history. The kind containing a ménage a trios and saccharine sweat. “I’m glad to see my Promyshlennyi teammate thrives on flirting fifteen years later.”

  Untangling my hair from its braid, Nickolas runs his hands through the thick length. He nuzzles my ear with his nose and inhales my scent.

  “I’d rather thrive on you alone,” he admits, his lips dancing along my neck.

  I shove at him, but he catches my hands. “And I see you haven’t changed much either.” The moon splashes across his smooth jaw, demanding my attention. “Now, do you want my help?”

  Eying him suspiciously, I remain in his solid embrace. The black suit fits him like a seductive glove and exasperates his muscular physique. “And how will you help me?”

  His index finger traces my lips. “It’s devious, but I think you’ll like my friends.”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

  His soft chuckle sends wicked tremors down my torso. He’s always had this effect on me. “If it means you find your mother’s killer, what does it matter if you like how it sounds?”

  “And your involvement?” I quip back, apprehensive of his end game. He isn’t one to become entangled unless it furthers his agenda.

  A clever smile completely displays his dimple and I wish it didn’t thrill me. “I get the satisfaction of helping out a fellow skhodka member.”

  “And?”

  “And I get to spend quality time with you.”

  My options are limited as I review his proposal. On my own, I’ve failed to find justice for my mother. With Nickolas and his alleged network, I could succeed. Or it could be a trap.

  “It’s no trap, I promise,” he includes when he notices my lip caught between my teeth.

  “Oh, please, Nick, you know better than to make a promise you can’t keep.” My eyes drift down the front of him. He looks as tantalizing as I recall, though it’s been several years.The Russian warlord snaps my bra strap, the sound singeing the air between us. “Then, I won’t.” He lowers his voice. “I’ll show you how serious I am.”

  My decision is all but made already so I catch his bottom lip between my teeth. His body’s reaction is as delicious as freshly fallen snow. “Then prove your words. If you’re as good as you say, my answer will be immediate.”

  ***

  The next morning, I stretch like a lazy cat. Nickolas won’t be in the spot beside me. It’s suicide to be caught in my bed. A blender whirrs from the kitchen, causing my lashes to waver in their rebellion. My breakfast, no doubt, awaits me.

  I sit up and inhale the mahogany scent from the furniture. It’s not my favorite, but I don’t care to find one that is. The blanket slips from my chest and my gaze dips for a second.

  “Damn Nickolas,” I mutter to the empty room. My playmate is fond of love bites. I don’t mind, in fact, I adore them. Still, it makes life difficult to explain when my overlord sees.

  After checking my phone, I see the illustrious Eddie Harper attempted contact. This time, he went to the pub we frequented in high school. I click through the message from the bartender. And he stayed there all night. “Poor Eddie. Ever the romantic.”

  Moving to the bathroom, I crank on the shower. Steam fills the stall before I return to the adjoining bedroom. I admire the man, but I won’t entertain him unless I must. My appearance at the hospital last night has him befuddled. He lacks proof, hence the obscure meeting request. If he had anything, I would be in police custody.

  I thumb through my dresser, grabbing necessities for my shower. It’s not that I don’t want to be under Eddie’s control. Dear Lord, it’d be incredible. But I won’t involve the ancient boyfriend in my less than kosher reason for visiting the good doctor.

  The shower beckons me and when I return to the bathroom, I’m not alone. Well, I am, but my phone requests a video chat with the man who snuck out of my window sometime before the sun rose. Not caring to cover up, I answer.

  “What do you want?” I set the phone on the tilted sink and meet his idyllic eyes as I pull back the shower curtain.

  “Oh, um, I didn’t think—” He pauses and removes his gaze from the frame. While his shoes are nice, I’m glad to see there’s a smidge of respect somewhere in his personality.

  “If you would’ve stayed past morning, you could join me.” I step into the cascading water, keeping the screen open. This time he doesn’
t hide the longing in his expression.

  “I wanted to, believe me.” He licks his lips as I lather my hair with shampoo. “But I needed to set up our meeting. You’re still up for this, aren’t you?”

  Rinsing my hands over the brown lengths, I shrug. “Sure, why not? If it benefits me, I’m all for it.”

  I grab the body wash and adore the hue his eyes take as my fingers slide over my dripping skin. Getting used to Nickolas’s steadfast attention would be too easy. I force my face into the waterfall. But I’ll make do with his lustful advances. They were especially satisfactory during our recent rendezvous.

  “Mishka, please stop before I come over there,” he advises in a rumbling tone.

  A smirk covers my face and I crane my neck to see him on the other end of the video. He looks as fresh as a daisy, but the worry lines on his brow make me remember our intermingled lives matter on more than one plane.

  I flip the knob for the shower, silencing the room. The steady drip from the faucet accompanies me as I wrap a towel around my torso. “Better?”

  Nickolas jerks his head as a response then moves the camera in the other direction. And just like that, I’m introduced to his so-called agency. I slick the hair out of my eyes and offer a wink to the recipients. Talk about a good first impression.

  ***

  With a deal that’ll most likely secure my fate in the underworld, I bound from the apartment and peruse the street. It’s not too busy yet. “The way I like it.”

  I step off the curb and onto my motorcycle. The weather isn’t ideal, but I’m more of a ride or die kind of bitch. I need to go to my powwow with Nickolas, yet I don’t want to yet. My new business partners better get used to it. My home life is dictated verbatim, so my professional life is as carefree as I can muster.

  My phone chimes. “Oh, except him. I can’t ignore him.” I straddle my bike and review the message: my skhodka obligation. Nickolas is my handler of sorts within my specialty. He coaches me when he’s in town and makes sure I get my jobs done in a proper manner. Obviously, we do more than work out.