Page 100 of Assassin: Part 1

“They might have information we⁠—”

“They have shit. Every single man that’s coming in for the next ten minutes will have nothing knowledgeable. You took care of the ones already that needed to pay. The rest of them are foot soldiers and do as they’re told. I don’t know why you want to meet with each and every one of them anyway. It’s boring when we have other shit to worry about.”

His glare deepens. “I’m not fucking talking about that shit again. I’m already pissed that you took out a bunch of damn walls without talking to me.”

I roll my eyes. “I already told you I needed to see what we were working with. And you already said you’re going to demo this place and rebuild, so what do you care?” My smile turns taunting. “Or are you sentimental about this shit? Did you hide love notes in the wall to your wife? Secretly pining for her?”

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t shut the hell up. I think that since you took my damn money for this shit, I should have a fucking say in what’s done in my own house.”

“Yeah, yeah, you already said that. And I’m not completely heartless. I already told you, you can pick some of the security features.”

“The same ones that you already fucking ordered because you said you didn’t like what I picked?” He shakes his head, exasperation clear.

“Precisely.” I mean, why lie? The man is an excellent assassin, but he has no taste for the finer things that make our jobs easier.

He mutters something, but I’m already turning my attention to the men who come in and yank the body out. I’ve done my research on them, and Mishka handpicked them when he realized where this was going to end. They’re the ones he says he will trust—as much as he can, anyway—to be his right-hand men.

I’ve done my own research, and I’ve reluctantly agreed with his decision. It’s not like he has many choices. None that won’t try to stab him in the back or shoot him in the head, anyway.

“Pakhan, you want the next one?” one of them, Sasha, asks when they finally come back in. He shoots me a wary glance. Smart boy. I grin at him, locking another bullet in the chamber.

“No.” He side-eyes me. “She’ll probably just add to the pile as it is. I want you and Damir to ensure the men understand there will be no uprising. They either accept me as their Pakhan, or they can leave.”

Sasha nods. His serious expression shows off the sharpness of his clean-shaven jaw and his nose. His hair is cut almost military short, with shaved sides, and he’s missing a small chunk of cartilage at the top of his ear from a bullet, but it doesn’t detract from his appeal. Something tells me women throw themselves at him.

It’s just one more reason not to trust him. If he’s like most men, his cock is going to get him in trouble. I’ll be keeping an eye on him.

His dark eyes move back to me, but then he heads out, Damir close behind him.

Damir is the quiet one of the two. He’s happy to take orders and seems to defer to Sasha. Except I know better. Damir is a master manipulator; his words are smooth and easy when he speaks them. He knows exactly what and how to say things to get the answers he wants.

If I didn’t know he respects Mishka more than anyone and they had been friends before he was taken to the school, I’d have already killed him. Though the jury is out if it stays that way. He doesn’t look at me with fear or wariness. I’m a threat, and he’s waiting for the moment to take me out.

I respect it. Perhaps he’ll be useful.

He glances back at me in the doorway, and I give him a cool smile. The one that lets him know I know exactly what he’s thinking and invite him to do his worst. His blue eyes, a couple of shades darker than Ilya’s, narrow, but nothing else changes. His head is shaved, only a dark shadow showing, no facial hair, and a scar runs from the top right of his forehead, down over his left eye to the bridge of his nose.

Handsome, sure, but this one isn’t going to let his cock rule him. If anything, he’s more likely to send a woman packing for looking at him wrong or speaking after sex.

The door shuts behind him, and I look at Mishka. “You know, I’m starting to think I’m not wanted around here.” I put away my gun, and grin. “And they don’t even know what I am.”

“They know you’re a crazy bitch who comes in and starts destroying walls, and killing people you don’t like. Hell, you killed the fucking maid as soon as we got here.”

“She wasn’t a maid, I already told you. Are you already forgetting your training, Belov? Or did you miss the gun she was already pulling? Oh, wait, yes, you did. So did the men you trusted.”

My words hit him hard, and he scowls. I can see how much he’s pissed at himself for getting distracted. I’ll give him a pass because this entire situation is a fucking mess, but that’s my one and only. I’m not his babysitter. He gets his stupid ass killed being lazy, that’s on him.

“You know they think you’re my wife.” He says it so casually, I almost don’t compute it for a second.

“Maybe I should attempt to slash your throat and dissuade them of that notion.” I pull my knife, flashing the newly sharpened blade.

“They’d probably think it’s some kind of weird-ass foreplay. And no, I’ve told them you’re a giant pain in the ass interior decorator that’s a little nuts.”

Insulted, I glare. “Interior decorator? And they bought that shit?”

“Of course not. But I did tell them you wouldn’t be around very long, and they’ve agreed to tolerate you until then.”

Tolerate me? I know he’s pushing my buttons, but I toss the knife at him anyway. He dodges, smirking when it lodges into the wall on the other side of the room. Right into the center of an expensive but ugly painting.