I wave to a passerby, who happens to be part of a Mexican crew. Turning on the machine, I wonder why we’ve stayed compliant with the drug runners across the street. It makes sense, I suppose. They run the easy stuff like marijuana, whereas we’re much too sophisticated for such a drug. I’m glad we haven’t joined forces. An alliance would mean a meeting. It’d be a deadly event if our groups ever stayed under one roof.
I fasten my helmet and turn onto the pavement. Riding is a small escape for me. Before I know it, I’m sitting outside a townhouse complex. I shouldn’t be here. My eyes catch movement to the left. Eddie lives here. It’s a stop I make every now and then since I heard he came back from deployment.
I come here for normalcy. Stalking my ex-boyfriend isn’t the best definition of the word, but it works for me. Being able to see Eddie on a regular basis without his knowledge appeases my inner demons. I ignore his calls, texts, and yes, even emails for his safety. Watching him from afar is as close to therapy as I’ll ever get. Having a stalker is a form of compliment in my line of work. Nothing says love like observing someone’s every move.
I’m not sure what soothes me about him. Perhaps, it’s the way his light hair sticks up in the morning or the aggravating way he folds t-shirts. Whatever the cause, it’s my first stop any day I’m nearby. Sure, I could shatter the distance and talk to him like a regular human, but my heart can’t afford it. Becoming anything of value to Eddie would involve more than I can offer.
He walks out of his townhouse, coffee in one hand while he stares at his phone. His truck is parked two spots from mine, but he won’t spot me. That would include taking his baby blues off whatever urgent notice his cell displays.
Once he gets into his vehicle and pulls out of sight, I stare at his house. It’s nothing fabulous with green shutters and tan vinyl. Once upon a time, I thought we’d share a place such as this. Our slobbery dog would trounce around the small patch of grass while we watch. I shake my head at the imagery. It’s idiotic. I lean forward and smirk at the busted mailbox. Eddie’s a dream I can never attain. He’s my heaven among the hell I thrive within.
Nodding to the old lady who’s been peeking at me from her blinds, I rev my engine and peel down the street. On to business. No time for thinking of what could be. I need to focus on the present. Which reminds me, I have one for a back-stabbing Russian defector.
Chapter Two
Knocking back the remnants of the beer, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. This is how I spend nights after work. I think most people do. I sailed through the day and a few people too. Nickolas will be here any minute to go over my second job’s duties. I better not have to fill out paperwork with this government entity. I’m horrible at writing details. Now, showing how I stabbed a dumbass, that I excel at.
I survey the bar, seeing repeat offenders swigging pale ales and munching on salty peanuts. This isn’t my preferred place, but far enough off the beaten trail. It’s safe, and I’m quite fond of my security.
The door swings open, snatching my attention away from my drink. Fuck my life! In walks my love, my heart, my soul: Eddie. He searches the room with those eyes I want to lose myself in. At last, he catches my gaze, gluing my ass to the barstool while setting his feet in action. I can’t escape if I try.
“Rory,” he states rather than greets.
“Eddie,” I say with equal emotion. We’re at an impasse. Both glaring at the other with no end in sight.
He sits in the chair beside me, overwhelming my personal bubble with his broad back. Dear God, why does he smell like sex?
“Why didn’t you return my messages?” he asks, flicking two fingers toward the barkeep.
I take the last sip of beer and set the glass down with a clink. “Because, Eddie.”
Swiveling my seat in his direction, Eddie discreetly grabs my hips and pulls me toward him. My eyes clash with his. I feel a bit bad for the confusion and worry laced in the blue orbs. If I would’ve severed all ties, we wouldn’t be here.
“Rory, I need an honest answer.” He slides his eyebrows together. “I left for the Air Force and thought we were fine, but within a year, you were gone. No letters, emails or phone calls.” His voice trails off when drinks are delivered.
I gulp the beer with greedy lips, hoping to deter the conversation further. If he chips away my resolve, who knows what I’ll do.
“We were engaged for God’s sake!” The tone in his voice sends a chill over my back.
I should’ve returned the ring. My bad. Hindsight is perfection after all. “Sorry,” I reply, keeping my eyes tuned to the television above the bar. A Cheers repeat. How quaint.
Eddie grasps my chin and forces my face to his. “I came home to work through whatever bullshit you got yourself into.” He nods to my outfit, all black and skin tight. “Because this isn’t you.”
My eye twitches at the sad irony. “But this is me, Eddie. I’ve always been this person. You just never saw her.”
“No.” He drops his hold and perches on the edge of the stool. “Whatever happened since I left, we can get through it. Together. I love you and that’s not changing.”
In silent awe, I marvel at the man before me. He wouldn’t love me if he knew the things I’ve done these last years. He would shrivel up and die.
“Eddie,” I begin, forcing my voice to take on a hint of bitchiness. “We’re done. I’m engaged to someone else. I have no room in my life for you. Go away.”
The usual cheer to his eyes darkens and the bastard laughs. Damn, did I screw up my breakup montage?
He drinks long and deep until the mug is empty before he addresses me. “I’ll be around. Let me know when you’re acting sane.” With that, he slaps money on the bar and stands.
I watch him leave. How can I not? A cop’s life for him is well-suited. I can’t envision any other occupation for the man who both transformed and buried the emotion I once knew as love. This isn’t over. It’s never over when it comes to Eddie Harper. I know it. He knows it. The problem arises when everyone else knows it.
***
I should clear up a few things. Noticeably, I’m a horrible person. I lie, cheat, and murder all before ten in the morning. I don’t like it, but I wasn’t raised to be the girl next door. I was crafted into a fighting machine. Turning emotion off was taught at a tender age of four during summer camp in Promyshlennyi.
My engagement to Alexei is purely for familial strength. All right, fine there’s also a dash of nympho involved, but it’s for Eddie’s sake. If my sexy ex is to stay alive, I must marry my Petrovich master to unify Russian alliances, but Eddie must never know.
I stare at my not so doting fiancé in name alone. He’s hosting a dinner party at our apartment today.
He looks dapper with a body I can’t complain about. Alexei offers me a quick wink then returns to his wine. Merlot, if I recall, imported from his Italy vineyard.
I admit, I care for him. It’s easy to do when you’re forced to live with someone. I dab my mouth with a napkin and scrape my chair backwards. The monotonous dinner conversations about trade routes and politics is tiring. I’ve never been the best hostess.
“Mishka, please wait,” a voice calls when I attain the threshold.
I hate the way my name rolls off his tongue. It’s like a sultry curse word I want to get high off. Turning, I see Alexei advance on my position. The dark blue suit is designer if I had to bet. The color accents the blue hues in his short dark hair.
“Yes?” I touch the doorframe to steady my nerves. Even after knowing him all these years, I don’t trust him. There’s a side of him which spurs the devil himself.
His green eyes slide over my satin black dress, flowing to the floor. My red high-heels are the last thing on his mind, though. I sense it in his gaze.
“Are we on for tomorrow?”
I let out the breath I was holding. Tomorrow. Ah, yes. We go to the driving range each Saturday. A distorted bonding amid gunshots. “Of course.”
Alex
ei checks over his shoulder and takes a step closer. “Good. You’ve been distant of late. Anything bothering you?”
Now there’s a loaded question. He may seem like the ideal man, but hold your horses. There’s more.
“It isn’t the gag and chains last night, was it?” he coos, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Because I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
My eyes scan the room. It’s filled with well-protected members of our organization. There’s no way I could throttle Alexei and live to see the funeral.
“Yes, I’m quite aware.”
His lips curl in an approving smile despite my dry sarcasm. “There’s my good little assassin.” He reaches over and pinches my ass before walking back to his role of host.
Alexei’s bedroom charms make Mr. Grey appear juvenile. Last night was like the rest, except worse. You wish I’d go into detail, don’t deny it. I’m not big into BDSM, but my deadly occupation turns my fiancé into a florescent light bulb.
I stay in the doorway for a moment longer, caressing the scene seemingly innocent to a bystander. I wish I could enjoy the festivities. I crave the option to be oblivious to the sex trade deals and lines of cocaine the men engage in after dessert.
Instead, I focus on my task. I can handle life without strings. It’s the ropes that tangle me. Nickolas squeezes by me. Ropes like him and Eddie.
He presses a polite kiss to my cheek. “Mishka, you look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I study his black jeans and dark blue button-up shirt. “As do you.”
We stand in silent serenity and watch the party unfold before our eyes. The chocolate mousse is gone and the real reason for the gathering will soon begin.
Tastefully, Nickolas slips his arm around my waist. It’s a perfect fit. Alexei glances to us and nods once. He isn’t blind to my relationship with Nickolas. We have an odd agreement. Call it an open-relationship, polyamorous, swinging, or plain twenty-first century shit, but our engagement isn’t based on love. It’s based on duty; thus we’re allowed certain freedoms.
Alexei kisses one of the women who’s clearing off dessert trays. He gets his kicks, sometimes quite literally, with other woman and I get to enjoy time with Nickolas. He gets any, I get one. Not sure how fair it is, but I prefer breathing over everything else.
“Let’s go before he starts something neither of us wants to witness,” suggests the kinder of my two Russian lovers.
I blow a kiss to Alexei and he catches it with a seductive smile. Yep, we’re fucked up, but it works. Somehow.
“Sounds good. Your place?” I pass through the door and weave around the throng of bodyguards. The stiff men are everywhere.
“I thought we’d switch it up.” Nickolas hits the button for the elevator. “Feel like checking out the roof?”
We move in unison, not unlike our interludes, and I check my phone. It seems Eddie has forgotten my warning from earlier. I delete the message then stuff the useless artifact in my cleavage. I’ll let Nickolas dig it out.
***
The next day, I step outside and hail a taxi. I stopped by a pop-up location for the agency to receive instructions as to my role. Total snooze-fest. As an initiation, they want me to prove my loyalty. Shouldn’t be too hard.
I give the driver an address. It’s a hub for mob runners and one member pisses me the hell off. The skhodka does many vile things, but I’m not a fan of the industry this guy orchestrates.
The driver picks up speed and the city passes quickly. My father would be ashamed of me, but he’s long gone. I don’t have his kindred spirit to keep me on the path of righteousness anymore.
“Stop here,” I command, and the cab screeches to a halt. I toss the driver the amount owed and escape the smoke-riddled car. I thought they passed a law about that shit.
I cross the street, splashing in puddles of thawed ice as I make my way to the abandoned warehouse off the river. Low-lives litter the street, but they won’t fuck with me. They know better than to do anything remotely violent to a person walking into a den of lions. Taking a deep breath, I smell fish guts and cocaine. Yep, I’m in the right place.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Too bad that’s not somewhere else. I chuckle at myself then check the screen. “Dammit, Eddie. You’ll have to wait until another day.” I grab the small gun out of the small of my back.
The idiots at the agency didn’t even check to see if I was packing. Well, a good spy always has something on her. Currently, I have five somethings.
Fully loaded, I step inside the warehouse and stale air hits my face. The day crew is on their third lunch by now. “Probably passed out.”
I snort when the scent of vodka reaches my nose then stroll around the neatly stacked maze of contraband. The stamp on the boxes says they’re full of auto supplies. Right.
Finally, I spot a beam of light in the office up the stairs. Climbing it quietly, I cock my gun then swing open the door. Silence meets my entrance. Rolling my eyes, I recognize the workers on the couch. They reek of booze and the white residue on their noses definitely isn’t powdered donuts from the bakery up the road. I don’t spot my victim, so I leave them to their high and bound down the steps.
Laughter meets my ears, so I head in the direction it emanates. My heels tick on the hard floor. I should’ve worn boots. The recognizable cigarette smoke from menthol reaches me as I pull open the rusty door. It screeches as I move it, but not as much as the man who spots me.
“Mishka, what are you doing here?” A rotund man in his early fifties asks.
I watch him take a drag of his cigarette. “That damn thing is going to kill you,” I respond, studying the object between his fingers. His henchman is nearby, but judging from the way he staggers, he won’t be difficult.
“Nonsense. Nothing can kill me,” he scoffs with a laugh.
I offer him a disbelieving glance then casually lift my Glock. “Oh, really? How interesting because I’m about to.”
A skeptical expression crosses his face followed by a humorous one. Before he can open his mouth, I pull the trigger. His goon reaches for his sidearm, but I put two through his skull. They both collapse to the ground, and I hover above my target.
Reaching down, I flick the cigarette from his grip. “See, I told you it’d kill you.”
“Why?” he sputters, life draining from the bullet hole in his chest.
I lean over and stick my weapon to his cheek. “Because you could’ve stopped them from killing Alena Vald and you didn’t.” I toss him a smug grin. “Plus, you’re a scurvy sex slave owner.”
The man’s eyes bug at my words. “They had to kill her.”
“Who did?” I pull him close. If I’m going to get down to the root of my despair, I need to track down the bastard who ended my semi-happy childhood.
The Russian mobster cackles and shakes his head. “I’m as good as dead, so why not?” Blood dribbles down his chin. “The Petrovich family ordered the hit.”
Shaking my head, I disregard his words. “No. Alexei would’ve told me.”
“Fine, don’t believe me, but it’s true.” His eyes roll back into his head. “You have your information, now either kill me or leave me to die.”
He’s smarter than I expect. No doubt, his innards are decomposing as we huddle together. “I’ll be sure to send more of your friends along. Leave room in hell for them.” My finger triggers the gun and blood splatters the ground behind him.
Rocking back on my heels, I notice a speck of blood on my coat. “Dammit. Do you see what you did? Now I have to change.”
***
Instead of spoiling my day, I stop by my dry cleaners. The woman wearing her hair in a tight bun grunts when I hand over my coat. She doesn’t ask questions, simply barks orders in Russian and carries on with her day. Blood, among other bodily fluids, is her life. If she mentioned each time I came in with brain matter or blood sprayed on my clothes, I’d kill her myself. I’m not proud of the endless bodies I’ve dropped, but it’s my job. I remind myself tha
t fact every time I receive termination orders. I was born into this world, so I may as well flourish.
I nod to the woman then escape the hole in the wall laundromat. In the skhodka, it’s shoot or be shot. I prefer to keep my boobs perky, so I strive to be their best asset. Until recently, of course, when I became their worst nightmare disguised as their prized child.
My cousin waves to me from his United States Postal Service truck as I continue down the street. His lucrative job is one of many that keeps our band in business. It’s smart to deal drugs while delivering mail. Our organization is in nearly every facet of the government. I frown as the wind picks up. Though, we struggle with politics. Shit, who doesn’t? It’s a clusterfuck.
I wave to him as I reach my apartment. Alexei’s car isn’t out front, but it doesn’t mean he’s not home. He likes to keep me guessing. It’s a nasty habit. I shut down my burner phones as I climb in the elevator. I should take the stairs, but I’m not feeling it. I’ll work out later.
Tapping my foot, I touch the small incision on my hip. The agency insists on tracking me, which could lead to my demise, but whatever. As long as Alexei doesn’t notice it, I’m golden. He’ll hack me up if he finds out the naughty things I’ve done in the last four hours.
I dismount the elevator and notice clothes strewn across the floor. Sighing, I cross my arms and wait. A woman staggers from the bedroom and I wrinkle my nose. I should kill her. It would make me smile, an act I avoid most days.
“I see the man-whore is at it,” I garble, studying the blonde’s naked torso. Not bad, but not my type. I prefer my women bustier if I’m forced to endure a lesbian affair while Alexei watches from the corner.
Grabbing a puffy pillow from the sofa, I chuck it at the bitch. It smacks her in the face and sends her off kilter. I chuckle when she topples over like Bambi on ice. Damn, I love fucking with Alexei’s sluts. I’d rather strangle her, but it wouldn’t bode well. Raising my eyebrow, I imagine how easy her neck would snap like a twig. She’s drunk. It’d be effortless.
Assassin by Day Page 2
