Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
I’ve always operated on the notion “the fewer witnesses the better,” so this morning’s endeavor will follow that concept.
“Fucking Christ,” Mikhail shouts when I fully open the throttle and pull up the collective before he’s buckled in. “You almost shook me out.”
“That was the point,” I mutter as I depress the left pedal to counteract the torque produced by the main rotor.
If my blood weren’t too hot to think rationally, I’d return to the helipad and force my brother’s removal from the cockpit with the same level of violence his confession flooded me with. But since the control I govern my life with has been completely obliterated, I continue en route, making a three-hour commute in barely thirty minutes.
Mikhail doesn’t speak a word the entire time. He knows how short my temper is and just how furious the inferno is when ignited. He doesn’t want to get burned.
One of Konstantine’s subordinates meets me on the helipad of a building in the middle of Myasnikov’s business district. It is approximately half a mile from Zoya’s apartment.
“Who was assigned watchman of the target last night?”
I stop walking toward Daniil when the familiar scent of the shadow I’ve struggled to lose for a single second after my mother’s disappearance wafts into my nostrils.
It still has that chocolate frosting scent from when he found me hiding in the closet I wish I had made it to before being found by Anoushka. Mikhail was only two, so he didn’t understand why I refused to eat the cake my mother had encouraged me to take a bite out of only hours earlier. He devoured his slice before bringing the second biggest piece to me.
He's done the same every birthday since. I just no longer hide in a closet in my room.
Underground fight clubs are more my scene.
After working my jaw to loosen its stiffness, I shift on my feet to face Mikhail. I could order his removal from the rooftop. Since that will steal time away from my objective, I threaten him instead.
“If you breathe a single iota of this to anyone, I will bury you. If it goes beyond this group of people”—I point to Konstantine’s lackey, Mikhail, and me—“I’ll bury you.” Jealousy talks on my behalf during my next warning. “And if I find out you said anything inappropriate to her during what I promise was a brief reintroduction into her life, I will bury you.”
Mikhail stares at me for several seconds longer than I’m happy about before a sly grin stretches across his face. “You know whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder is full of shit, right?” My gun already feels heavy on my hip. He doubles its weight by proving he still has a lot to learn about the woman still unknowingly plotting my demise. “I also don’t think she’s a girl who’ll wait around for you to get your shit together.”
“I don’t think she’ll wait for me, Mikhail. I know she will.”
He looks set to argue, but my patience is stretched too thin. I make a beeline for the steel emergency exit stairwell on the side of the building, grumbling under my breath that Zoya’s count will only ever travel one way.
After calling me a cocky fuck, Mikhail assists me in unearthing the identity of the fool who made an erroneous mistake last night. “Who was the watchman in charge of Zoya’s surveillance this morning?” He jogs to catch up to Daniil and me before he pulls out his phone and brings up a blurry image of a man who wouldn’t rank any higher than a low-ranking gangster. “And has anyone in your crew seen him before?”
“We were assigned this case two weeks ago, but we’ve not yet had the chance to introduce ourselves to the locals,” Daniil replies, his tone a mix of sarcastic and truthful. “I’ll run his image through a program to clean it up before completing facials.” He scans the image into a black tablet before tapping on the screen. “When do you need it by?”
“Yesterday,” I answer on Mikhail’s behalf, my voice tainted with guilt.
I fucked up by not personally overseeing the team in charge of Zoya’s surveillance, but I wasn’t lying when I said my entire plan was flipped on its head. I’ve been scrambling to make sense of everything since the press conference at the front of Mikhail’s building. It’s been one fucking thing after another, so I let what I thought would cause minor implications slip.
I won’t make the same mistake twice.
“I’ll have you a name in under an hour.” Daniil’s sly smirk matches mine when he says, “But until then, how about we go pay him a visit?”
He double taps the screen, bringing up the name of the man rostered to watch Zoya last night.
I hope Luka Traite kissed his family goodbye before accepting the security contract Konstantine offered him two weeks ago, because it would have been for the final time.