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A cool wind hisses around me, delivering a chill that’s broken only briefly when the wind catches on the open car trunk before me. Archer stands to my left, clicking the ammo into his assault rifle and pulling back the safety. We’re parked outside a small, dark apartment building in the lower district. The streets are quiet, and the swish of the wind is disrupted only by the occasional blast of a distant truck horn. There will be no quiet entrance here. The plan is to go in loud with the intent to kill. I’m going to make as much noise as I need to in order to send a message to anyone who eventhinksabout coming for us again. We are not a family to be messed with. Witnesses won’t be a problem, and the police will be too busy if any neighbors call in the gunshots.
Grigoriy Lenkov has skated by without consequence for far too long. He threatened me at my favorite coffee shop, turned Cara’s own detail into defectors, orchestrated her kidnapping,andhad me run off the road. There’s no fucking way he’s walking away from this alive.
Archer finishes loading up and turns to me, his body shifting in my peripheral as I run through checking my own handgun.
“I’m positive he’s here,” Archer says calmly. “Yelena, one of the girls we rescued from the brothel Cara was held at, was a regular of hers. Sick bastard with what he gets up to. I convinced her to lure him here, and received confirmation that he entered the building an hour ago and hasn’t left.”
“How do we know she’s telling the truth?” I finish my checks and slam the trunk closed as the wind whips around me again like an icy shard spearing through my leather jacket.
“She’s got nothing to gain from lying,” Archer explains, “and we promised her an out of this business. If her information results in Grigoriy’s death, then we agreed to train her as a barmaid in the clubs. If it doesn’t, we told her Sienna would take care of her.”
Of course.
No woman shall befall harm at my hand. But in cases of female discourse, Sienna is always willing to step in and take care of it. It’s the easiest way to deal with the women roped into doing the dirty work.
My fingers itch as they close around my weapon, and I stalk towards the building with Archer by my side and three men taking up the rear. I look forward to finding Grigoriy and beating the ever-lovingshitout of him and whoever else gets in my way.
“Exits covered?”
“Yes,” Archer nods, raising his rifle and tucking the butt against his shoulder. “We have four men stationed at the back and side, with two on the roof in case he slips past.”
“Any civilians?”
“Just two. Yelena and her driver, but he won’t be a problem.”
“Russians?”
“Unclear, a minimum of five, but we haven’t seen anyone else enter, so that should be the max.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it?”
“What?” I drag my gaze away from the building to meet Archer’s. He’s watching me with his brow tilted up slightly and his tongue darts out to swipe slowly over his lower lip.
“What do you mean?”
“Usually, you are tearing into me about every detail to make sure everything is perfect,” Archer replies, “don’t tell me you’ve started to trust me.”
I scoff slightly.I don’t do that, do I? Am I that much of a hardass? Maybe he’s right.
“I trust you to do your job,” I reply steadily, and yet Archer’s brow quirks up further. “Do youwantme to tear into you?” My pulse quickens and I clench my jaw.What exactly is his problem?
“No,” Archer replies easily, “I’m just surprised, that’s all. You’re just… a little different. Lighter, I suppose.”
“Lighter?” I taunt harshly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
I’m still the same. He’s talking nonsense.
I glance at the men behind us, catching the eye of one. “Do you think I’m different?”
Archer laughs loudly then. “He’d tell you the sky was green if you told him it was. It’s not a bad thing, Killian. It happens. A near-death experience will do that to you.”
I turn back to Archer. The corners of his eyes are creased slightly, and he looks so amused. It irks me slightly and I spin back to the building.
“I guess my near-death experience did change my perspective on life,” I mutter. Though as the words leave me, it’s not the car crash that pops into my mind. It’s Cara. Her long hair, that sweet smile, and that pretty red mouth that dances the line between innocence and sin.
I take the steps upwards two at a time, trying to distance myself from the painful squeeze of my heart that lingers whenever I think of her. I miss her, and at the same time, the thorns of hurt still embed with every beat.
