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He takes a beer from the fridge and twists off the cap. “When? You do realize after tomorrow, he may already be on the move again, or whoever took out the other guys may shoot him before we get to him.”
“That’s why I want you to go tomorrow first thing.” If he didn’t need his sleep, I would’ve sent him now.
He stills with the bottle tipped to his mouth. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
My stare tells him there’s no joke.
“What about Dimitrov?” he asks.
“We’ll manage. Any one of us can drive a car as well as you can.”
“What about keeping an eye on the street and exit?”
“I’ll get our hackers to tap into the city’s street cameras. They can send the feed to my smartwatch.”
“It’s a risk. Is avenging Mina really more important than not fucking up this job?”
“I’m not going to fuck up this job. We’ll take care of Dimitrov. And you’ll get your cut, don’t worry.”
He slams the bottle down on the counter. “It’s not just the money. It’s our reputation. If we blow this, who’s going to hire us in the future?”
“Everything will go as planned.”
Planting his hands on his hips, he regards me from under his brows. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Is she worth it?”
Is she worth it? Fucking yes. Ten times over. A thousand times over. Regret weighs heavy on my shoulders, guilt softening my voice as I tell him, “I don’t think Mina framed us.”
He’s quiet for a beat. “What?”
“I think her military trainer did the disguises.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? She admitted she’d done it.”
“To protect him.”
“Who?”
“The Chameleon. Ever heard of him?”
“Yeah. He’s legendary.” Anton’s eyes widen. “Wait. Are you saying he trained her?”
“That photo I showed you, that ordeal? He saved her.”
“So,” he says slowly, “she owes him her life.”
“Exactly.”
“Fuck. Have you confronted her?”
“Not yet.”
“How did you find out?”
“The hackers. They sent me the info on Gergo Nagy after Tóth mentioned him. That’s why Mina went to Budapest. To warn Gergo. I have the security tape of them meeting. He was disguised, but it didn’t take much to put two and two together.”
“Are you going to take him out?”
“Don’t know yet. He obviously means a lot to Mina. Apparently, they’re good friends.”
“I suppose we can’t really hold him accountable. The guy doesn’t know us. If what you say is true, he was just doing a job, same as us.”
I sigh deeply, feeling it in my bones. I still have an urge to take him out, but now I owe him for saving my woman. “This complicates matters.”
“You don’t say.”
“I still don’t know who’s killing Mina’s attackers. Or why.”
Anton cocks his head. “This Gergo guy, maybe?”
“If he wanted to kill them, he would’ve done so after Mina’s assault. There’s something else, something bigger, and I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“Fine. I’ll go to Switzerland and torture the bastard.”
I pat his shoulder. “I knew I could rely on you.”
“Just do me a fucking favor and don’t screw things up.”
I manage a crooked grin. “Not a habit of mine to screw up.”
He lifts an eyebrow, leaving the unsaid hanging between us. Yeah, I screwed up royally with Mina.
The water in the bathroom turns off.
It’s time to face my princess.
31
Yan
Anton discreetly leaves, claiming he’s in the mood for restaurant dining.
I give myself a minute to get my shit together before walking into my—our—room. Mina stands in front of the closet, a towel draped around her body. She’s lost weight. The curve of her shoulders is sharper, the bones more pronounced. I push the worry onto the pile the size of Kilimanjaro I already carry in my chest to focus on what needs to be said. She must see from my shaky demeanor that something is off, because wariness creeps into her gaze.
She looks like a doll—porcelain skin, huge blue eyes framed by long lashes, slender limbs, and silky silver-blond hair. She’s indefinably gorgeous. There are no words to describe her beauty or value to me.
Crossing the floor, I stop in front of her.
She stares up at me with a frown. “Yan?”
I’m acutely aware of the difference in our sizes, of her tiny frame and vulnerable bones—not that she’d hesitate to take me on if I were to offer her a fair fight. She’s not a princess who favors pink dresses, although with her, I want to play dress-up all the time. She’s a rebel in black. An angel in white. A soldier. A woman.
I cup her face. I’m overwhelmed with how small she seems, how my palm easily envelops her cheek and jaw. “Tell me who you met in Budapest.”
Every muscle in her body locks. She’s so rigid it’s a wonder she manages to step away from me. “No one.”
I drop my hand. “I know, Mina.”
The color drains from her face. “It’s not what you think.”
