Page 15 of Assassin's Heart


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“What snag? What terms?” Irritation starts to color Vladimir’s voice. “I know you prefer more—gentle techniques with the women, Levin, but if your sensibilities start to get in the way of accomplishing your work—"

“She broke up with him this morning,” I say flatly, cutting him off. “Before I got to her. She’d discovered that he was married.”

“So she didn’t know?”

“Apparently not.” I rub a hand over my mouth, feeling more and more in need of that drink. “His wife showed up at his Moscow apartment while Lidiya was there. She reacted—poorly.”

“But she’s agreed to go back?”

“After some convincing, yes.”

“And you believe that she’ll stay the course?”

“Yes.” I let out a sigh. “I let her know we had the power to freeze her accounts, if she refused. She has a—”

“A sick grandmother. Yes, I know. This grandmother is the best way to keep her in line? Loyal?”

I instantly regret telling Vladimir, but it doesn’t much matter, in the end. He would have figured it out one way or another—there’s no information I have that he’s not privy to, for the most part. There’s a reason that Vladimir’s reputation is feared far beyond our own syndicate.

“Yes, but it’s a careful line to tread. She’s not a woman who is easily frightened. She’s tough, and she strikes a hard bargain—”

“Careful, Volkov. I’ll start to think you like this Lidiya. Too much, perhaps, for a job that you’re meant to handle with impartiality.”

“It’s not that.”

“What ‘bargain’ did you strike with her? I hadn’t authorized—”

Fuck. I’d known Vladimir would be less than happy with this part of the situation. “I agreed to transfer ten thousand to her account, for her cooperation. She wants to send it to her grandmother.”

“The girl bargained for ten thousand rubles? Maybe she’s less intelligent than you seem to think, Volkov—”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

There’s a long moment of silence on the other end that has even my heart doing a quick stutter in my chest. I’m fully aware of the power that my boss has. If he decides I’m handling this poorly, or that someone else would be better suited to it, he could pull me off of this mission in an instant. He could have me killed and replaced, or taken back to headquarters—which in some ways, could be the worse of the two options. I’ve seen what Vladimir’s enforcers can get up to, and there’s no universe in which I want their tools applied to me.

That odd, deep-seated need to protect Lidiya rears its head again, and reminds me of an entirely different reason to restrain my desire for her. If I lose sight of the big picture, allow any feelings I might have to cloud my judgement, I could be putting her in danger as well as myself. She’s best protected if I’m the one handling her. Anyone else isn’t likely to be as gentle, or as understanding. They certainly wouldn’t be so circumspect about their desire for her.

Men in my line of work tend to have certain feelings about women like Lidiya, women used to tempt and ensnare our marks. As far as most of my associates are concerned, they’re one step above whores. And to them, whores are meant to be used.

I respect Lidiya, more so now than ever. They might not.

“I hope you don’t come to regret that decision, Volkov.” Vladimir’s voice crackles over the line again, terse and cold. “You do good work for us. I’d hate to see that change, on account of one woman.”

The warning, while not said in so many words, is clear. And as the line hangs up abruptly, I’m reminded, just as abruptly, that my position is not without its own pitfalls and dangers.

I’m one of the best, but that doesn’t make me irreplaceable. It certainly doesn’t make me invincible.

If I mean to protect Lidiya from Vladimir when this is over, it may very well mean protecting her from myself, too.

I get to my feet a touch unsteadily, shoving my phone into my pocket and turning back towards the bar.

I need that fucking drink.

Lidiya

The moment Levin steps out of the room, I feel at least half the tension drain out of me. I flop backwards on the bed, pressing one hand over my eyes as I will my heart to stop racing. It feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest, and I hadn’t realized just how tense every single one of the muscles in my body was until he was gone, and I managed to relax.

I feel like I’ve fallen down a flight of stairs and run a marathon, all in one day. I’m fucking exhausted, and it’s all I can do to force myself out of the bed and into the bathroom to take that bath that I’d told him I was going to. Even as tired as I am, though, the allure of the hot water and luxurious bath is too much.

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