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The bastard who killed my father.
I stomp over to my hotel table-turned-strategy desk. Shuffling through all the papers, I find the bomb schematics Edvard had given me. My eyes roam over the details, over every single instruction, my vision growing blurry with the threat of tears. I don’t understand what went wrong. I did everything perfectly, yet…
There’s no telling when I’ll get an opportunity like this again. I’m so angry I want to kick my shins until they’re bruised. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. All those weeks keeping tabs on him, studying his daily routine, was for nothing.
Dimitri Antonov was supposed to leave the butcher’s shop at around seven, going around to pick up his monthly protection fee. From my observations, I’ve noticed he’s an incredibly punctual man. So when he showed up at five, I knew things were going to go my way. At least, I thought they were.
I worked quickly, approaching his car from the sidewalk, keeping low to stay out of sight. All I had to do was crawl under his vehicle, attach the bomb to the car’s underside, set the timer for fifteen minutes, and walk away. It should have been more than enough time for me to leave the area unseen.
But Dimitri Antonov came out of the butcher’s shop early. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal. The bomb would simply go off while he was on the road. But the thought of others being caught in the blast, people caught in early-morning traffic made my stomach clench. I don’t want anybody innocent to get hurt. I may be vengeful, but I’m not heartless. The only one I want dead is the right-hand man of the Antonov Bratva.
And then the bomb went off before he made it to the damn car.
I can still feel the heat of it on my skin. It’s a miracle I wasn’t hit by any of the shrapnel, though I did sustain a few minor burns and a nasty bump on the head. The last thing I expected to see when I came to washim, holding me in his arms with such concern and care I almost couldn’t believe it. Seeing him up close and personal for the first time made me feel…
Strange. Adrift. Lost in his dark brown eyes and the sharp line of his jaw.
I had to get out of there, but he wouldn’t let me.
Instead, he helped me to a seat and checked me for injuries. He even gave me his damn jacket like some sort of gentleman. My whole body shook as I breathed him in, his cologne deep and rich like a pine forest. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t stop staring at him. I told myself it was the shock. The shock of having him take care of me with the very hands that snuffed out my father’s life.
My phone rings. It’s a cheap burner phone I picked up at some random gas station. A hardy Nokia flip phone that blessedly survived the impact of the explosion. There’s only one person who knows to call me on this number.
“Edvard!” I snap, shouting into the receiver the second I pick up the call. “Edvard, the schematics you gave me were shit!”
He chuckles, not a hint of seriousness to be found. “I take it things didn’t go well?”
“Gee, what tipped you off?”
“I need you to relax, Natalya. The schematics were fine. They’ve been used for decades by the Russian Army.”
“Yeah? As in the modern-day army? Or was this something you dug up from before the Cold War?”
“Mistakes happen, Nat. Maybe you put a wire in the wrong place?”
“I don’t make mistakes,” I snap bitterly. “Not when the stakes are this high. Now the Antonov’s are going to be on high alert. Who knows when I’ll get another chance?”
“Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry?” I echo, incredulous. “How can you be so calm about this?”
“Because I already have a backup plan,” he explains. “I was hoping you could keep your distance. You said yourself you don’t like seeing people get hurt—”
“I don’t,” I say quickly, my guts tying themselves up in knots. On the surface, I know it sounds like a ridiculous notion. Here I am trying to kill a man, but I don’t have what it takes to see him in pain. This whole scheme has filled me with conflict from the very beginning.
I was supposed to be a doctor. Before my father was mercilessly gunned down in the streets, I went to medical school tosavelives, not end them. I’ve always wanted to help people, to ease their suffering. I was in my final year of residency when I got the call and had to drop everything I was doing. Believe me when I say the irony makes me sick.
Things are different now.
Until I exact my revenge, until Dimitri is six feet underground, I will not rest.
“I’m afraid you have no other choice,” Edvard says gently. “I have it on good authority that the Antonov household is looking to hire a maid.”
I sit down on the edge of the bed, mind spinning. “A maid?”
“It would put you within arm’s reach of the target.”
“No, I know, but…” I try to swallow the sticky lump lodged in the back of my throat. I can barely breathe, still reeling from this morning’s mishap. The thought of being close enough to kill him with my bare hands… I’m not looking forward to it, but it has to be done. “How reliable is your source?” I ask. “As reliable as your shitty bomb schematics?”
