Like a drug addict craving his next hit, my itch to consume Zariah kicks into overdrive when the flame in her eyes dulls as I button up my shirt. She was enjoying eyeballing me as much as I’ve enjoyed watching her sleep the past month. I didn’t get close enough for her to ever know I was in her room, but close enough I could smell the cinnamon toothpaste she brushes her teeth with every morning and night. I did the same when we were kids. I snuck into her room every time I slept there. Not once did she unearth my secret.
Some of the spark in Zariah’s eyes reappears when I hand her my tie, wordlessly requesting she dress me like I did her. I must have consciously picked this tie to match Zariah because the pencil-thin stripe is the same color as her dress. I take a mental note to order her more classy shoes when she rises to her feet without the slightest wobble. The height of her heels makes the slit in her dress even more risqué, and it intensifies my struggle to set aside my desire for revenge for another night. I wish I could, but it’s already been thirteen long months. It’s time for the men responsible to meet their maker.
I lose some of my grit when Zariah leans in close to guide my tie around my neck. She had a crumb stuck on the corner of her mouth—a crumb I had to remove with my tongue. I could have used my hands, but they’re stuffed in my pockets, ensuring they remain off parts of her body I’m more than ready to explore.
“Mmm, nearly as delicious as you taste.”
Zariah acts as if I didn’t speak. I don’t need to hear her words, though. Her shuddering thighs are indication enough.
Once she has my tie fixed into place, I secure her hand in mine and make my way outside. Lenin scheduled my driver nearly an hour ago, so he’ll be waiting for me. If he isn’t, I hope he is enjoying his final breaths.
Forever on hand for anything her “girls” need, Velika slips a thick fur coat over Zariah’s shoulders while Lenin hands me my wool trench coat. It’s fucking freezing outside, but my body barely pays any attention. My veins are too thick with need and adrenaline to let a little bit of snow dampen my eagerness.
* * *
Twenty minutes into our trip, I stop peering at a starless sky when a small voice at my side pipes up, “Where are we going?”
Zariah sounds nervous, but she has no reason to be. She may be sitting next to a mass-murderer, but she’s the safest she’s ever been. I’ll never let anything happen to her. I’ve learned from the mistakes of my past, and I won’t make them again. If anything, every man in the room tonight should be more on edge.
The men who took down Dominique assumed she was my weakness. They believed her death would have me so cut up, I would step away from the role I was born to play. In some ways, it did. It just wasn’t as they anticipated. My six months abroad wasn’t for reflection. I was scheming. Plotting their demise. Preparing to take over the world.
They won’t see that side of me tonight, though. They’ll see a man willing to do everything in his power to prevent the same thing happening, one who’ll stop at nothing to protect the woman he pledged to safeguard years ago when she was still a girl.
I don’t need to hide Zariah away like her father did to keep her safe. I merely need to show my enemies they had their eyes on the wrong target the entire time.
* * *
Forty minutes later, my car pulls to the curb at the front of a building I’ve owned the past eight years. Security would have swept the area long before my arrival, but since I am entering with an unexpected guest, I instruct them to scan the premises again. I don’t want any uninvited guests approaching Zariah without my permission, especially ones with the same last name as hers.
When Lenin gives me the nod of approval, I fling open my door and glide out of my SUV before offering Zariah my hand. She’s shocked by my act of chivalry. She’s not the only one. Gallantry isn’t one of my strong points. Usually, I bark out orders, and everyone follows them. I can’t put it more simply than that.
When the driver’s gaze drops to the dangerous slit in Zariah’s dress, I realize he is the same one who collected me from the airport last month. His prolonged gawk at the glistening skin high on Zariah’s thigh fills me with so much fury, my hand not clutching Zariah’s slithers to my hip where my gun is cradled. If Matvei didn’t step in front of him to have a quiet word, not only blocking Zariah from his impish glare but placing himself in the line of fire, he would have had a bullet hole between his brows by now.
Matvei is already taking out the trash, but a little guidance never hurt anyone. “Take care of it.”
The four words I just spoke shouldn’t make any man afraid, but they rain terror down on the one Matvei is guiding away from the car he just drove. In our industry, they only mean one thing: he’s about to die.
When Zariah leans into my side, I assume she’s using my body as a shelter from the brutal winds whipping around us. I have no inkling she’s taking up a different type of protection. “Do you really think that’s necessary?” Her warm breaths tickle my cheek. “He barely looked my way. . .”
Her words trail off when the pop of a bullet dislodging from a gun breaks the silence teaming between us. I’m not shocked by how quickly Matvei followed through with my request—he’s not my number two for no reason—but Zariah’s knowledge of my inner workings is a surprise. I thought she would have lost the ability the instant she hit womanhood. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve never been one to hide my anger, but I thought I had a handle on idiosyncrasies I shouldn’t be having.
After an inconspicuous glare directed toward me, Zariah pulls away from me just before we enter the nightclub/gaming room. Although I’d rather she stay at my side, it will be better this way. No one saw us arrive together, so they won’t look at her as if she is the key to my kingdom.
Furthermore, Lenin is on her tail before she makes it even halfway to the bar. He’s well aware the orders I gave him before I became a man didn’t expire when my and Zariah’s families became mortal enemies. No matter how many years pass, he will follow my demand to the T:protect Zariah from everyone but me.
After handing my coat to the attendant at the door, I scan the room. As suspected, not an eye is on me. They’re all too busy tracking Zariah as she makes her way to the bar to pay me any attention. Her dress accentuates her curves to perfection, and its red coloring adds a touch of sexiness to her ecstasy-bloomed cheeks. She looks so ravishing, it’s taking everything I have to remember what tonight is supposed to be about. I will make Zariah mine, just not until after I close the door Dominique’s death opened.
The deeper I merge into the room, the more attention I gain. The space is brimming with anyone and everyone associated with the Russian cartel. Leaders, hired goons, and the fuckers who palm off sub-par drugs to their competitors too weak to test their quality themselves.
Then you have the men like me, the ones who make all this possible. Andros Smirnov is in the middle of the room, conversing with his silent partners. He’s an investor to nearly every man in this room. It’s profited him well the past decade. Rumors are he’s closing in on a thirty billion dollar fortune.
Maliki Roust is on my left. He handles the distribution of drugs, guns, and whores for most of our allies on the East Coast of America. And Tiny Tim is heading my way now. Don’t let his name fool you. He’s a huge bastard and a weaponry master. If you want it, he can get it, no matter how illegal it is. I once heard he stole a nuclear-powered submarine. It’s never been proven, so he gets no credit from me, because without proof, you have nothing. It’s why I keep trophies of my kills.
As Tiny Tim paces through the room brimming with over four hundred guests, eager to introduce me to some new blood hoping to get a start in our industry, I work out my game plan. Tonight’s festivities are supposed to be about unifying old ties and sparking new ones, but I’m more interested in the business transactions occurring outside of this realm. Every man in this room is my enemy in some way, but only one of them is more so than the rest. His day before the court has finally arrived. There’s just one difference:
I’m no longer the ghost hiding in the shadows waiting for him.
I’m the hunter.
