Page 29 of Lethal Obsession

I’m leaving behind an organization that is more than able to stand on its own, particularly under Dima’s leadership. And God knows I have enough money to run for the rest of my life, if I wanted to. My shares in Andersson Technologies alone are enough to keep me in the utmost luxury and then some.

Only a few hours ago, I was dumping a body in the Everglades and reminding myself that the swamp is the life I chose. That any ambition of living a different life is nothing more than a pipe dream.

Yet here I am, heading to the airport with a lone bag and a one-way ticket to a country I’ve never even visited before.

And for some strange reason, I suddenly can’t fucking wait to get there.

Oh, some reason, huh?

Ofelia Borovsky’s face passes in front of my eyes, swiftly followed by the crippling sense of shame I feel whenever I allow myself to remember the last time we met. The recollection of her tears, the way she crumpled in on herself as I brutally rejected her, has sent me to the vodka bottle on countless occasions.

It’s the coward’s path, I know. I deserve to make myself remember every moment of Ofelia’s humiliation in stark detail, not shy away from it.

But oddly, although I can force myself to face the memory of my knife on her flesh, her tears are another thing entirely.

Those I can’t bear to remember for even a second.

But now you’re flying halfway around the world to be in the same country as her. And in less than a few days, you’ll be face-to-face with her again.

I’d be lying if that didn’t make my entire body suddenly burn with an excitement no amount of power or money can ever come close to rivaling.

“So am I right?” Dima asks, looking curiously at me across the rear seat of the limo. “Are you planning to stay away for a while?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” But even I can hear the unaccustomed lightness in my voice. “Lars is in Finland, doing that deal with the cyber betting company. I’ll call him from France, have him send the Quantum Drift over to pick me up.”

I fitted out a superyacht last year, registering it under one of the shell companies so it couldn’t be tracked back to me. We use it as a corporate perk for employees, but I also fitted it with a secure comms room, the same as the one Lars and I both have on our private yachts.

Maybe, somewhere in the back of my mind, I always knew it might come to this.

“I’ll have a temporary identity set up too, just to be safe,” I tell Dima. “From there, I’ll see where things are at. If I know anything about the FBI, none of this will happen quickly, so yes, it could be a while, I guess.”

He nods slowly, still watching me. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” he says soberly.

I raise my eyebrows. “You looking to get rid of me for good, asshole?”

Dima, for once, doesn’t laugh. “Maybe it’s you who needs to get rid of us, Lex.”

I frown at him as the limo takes the airport exit. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He shrugs. “You’re better than all this bullshit, Alexei. You always were. Maybe this is your chance to find another way.”

I stare at him, taken aback. “You sound like a fucking New Age therapist.”

“Say that again, and I’ll open every one of your chakras, motherfucker.”

We’re still laughing when the limo pulls up in the drop-off lane.

“Stay safe, brother.” Dima hugs me briefly. “I’ve got your back.”

“I know you do.” I return his hard embrace. “We’ll talk when I land.”

I walk away without turning back.

I’m seated in the first-class lounge, savoring a glass of Scotch before my flight, when a stranger pulls out the chair on the other side of the low table and sits without being asked. His suit has the banal gray look of bureaucracy but is expensive enough that he’s likely a lobbyist rather than on the public purse.

Either way, I’m not fucking interested. “Seat’s taken.”

“I won’t take more than a minute of your time.”