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“Who hasn’t? Let’s just say he’s weak for choosing helpless victims.”
“I’m in.” The voice reaches me before a man saunters in from the balcony. I figured someone was out there, but I thought it could be one of Tristan’s endless security folk.
The man standing in front of me has a sophisticated aura about him. He’s wearing a designer shirt and trousers. No jacket or tie — which means he’s not a businessman but likes elegance. His hair is styled, and his features are sharp but not in a criminal kind of way, more like how models look. He’s certainly not what I expected from what Tristan said about him.
According to the duke, this man was a key player in the Russian mafia in New York. What I found impressive about his background is the fact that he killed for a living for a long time and his speciality is tracking and finding.
His face is definitely not what I had in mind. I thought I would find a buff man with mean, angular features.
He’s certainly not that. Moreover, he appears to be younger than Tristan, barely in his early thirties. The only thing that hints at his true nature is the sparkling in his light blue eyes. Mentioning Maxim’s name is a deal sealer for him.
Killers and their need to outsmart each other is a translation of their egos. They like knowing they’re the smartest and strongest alive.
It’s something I’ll use to my complete advantage.
“Jonathan, this is Kyle.” Tristan motions at him. “An old associate of mine.”
“Associate?” Kyle scoffs. His accent is standard English, but there’s something in its undertone that I can’t quite pinpoint. It’s like he learnt to speak that way but had to shed another accent. A northerner, perhaps? Scottish? Irish? “Stop the nonsense and tell him we used to kill together.”
“Kyle.” Tristan glares at him.
“What?” Kyle sits beside him and snatches his drink. “I didn’t know it was a secret.”
“It’s safe with me,” I say. Not that I didn’t suspect it. The Rhodes family has always given off vibes, especially Tristan’s cousin, Aaron.
“It better be.” Kyle takes his time to savour his drink. “Or else we’ll have to…you know…shut you up with other methods.”
“You’re not allowed to threaten my guests, Kyle.”
“I’m just putting it out there.” Kyle is the type who speaks with complete nonchalance, appearing almost bored, but he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Not that he rattles me. No one does.
Or more accurately, no one aside from the woman who’s locked in her room because she was trying to escape.
I can’t believe she attempted to fucking jump right after she was attacked. My chest constricts whenever I think of what could’ve happened if Moses and I had been even a few seconds too late.
Or if I hadn’t been there to catch her.
The fact that she changed so suddenly has been sending my mind into overdrive. I barely slept last night. Every time I closed my eyes, her vulnerable fainted state came to mind.
It doesn’t help that my bed feels empty without her. It shouldn’t, but it fucking does.
Pushing that thought out of my head, I focus on Kyle. “Can you find who I’m looking for?”
“I can find anyone.”
“Tristan will forward you all the information we have.” I take a drink. “I want him alive.”
Both Tristan and Kyle smile at that. But the sadism that shines in Kyle’s eyes is nothing like I’ve seen before. It’s almost as if he finds a sick pleasure in it. “I love it when they’re alive…at first.”
“What’s the time frame?” I ask.
“As long as it takes. I’ll be in touch when I find your guy, or girl, you never know.”
“Name your price and I’ll pay.”
“I don’t need money.” He stands. “Once the mission is complete, I’ll take payment in the form of a favour.”
