Page 4 of Assassin: Part 1

Ilya Romanov is tall, dark, handsome, and dangerous. But standing here, I’m realizing that those pictures I’ve seen of him don’t do him justice.

This man is the devil himself, and with the confidence in which he carries himself, my panties are soaked and my clit is throbbing. What can I say? I love a bad boy, and he is the hottest one I’ve seen in a long time. If only things were different.

Oh well, that’s what fantasies and vibrators are for.

I lean against the hood of my car as the girl races toward her uncle. His men glare at me, with their guns at the ready. Really, all that firepower for me? I’m flattered.

I know which one I’d kill before taking out the head of the snake, as they say.

He murmurs something in Russian to his niece, holding her close. She responds as she pulls away, but I’m not close enough to make it out. Pointing at me then at herself, she shakes her head. Her face turns into a scowl when he snaps at her. The angry string of curses she shoots back at him in Russian has me grinning. She’s giving him what for.

A man like him taking it? Priceless.

Finally, when the girl goes quiet, her hands on her hips, the devil looks over at me. I hold his stare, refusing to bend to the iron will in his blue eyes. They’re untrusting, cold, deadly. I make sure to show the exact same in my eyes as he continues to glare. Surprise flitters through them briefly; he’s obviously not used to a woman, or anyone for that matter, not bending the knee.

He has no idea how much danger he’s in. It thrills me and does nothing to dull the lust bubbling inside me.

“Get in the car, sweetheart,” he tells his niece. “I’m going to speak to your rescuer myself.”

“Uncle,” the girl warns, “if you piss her off, I’m going to look the other way when she guts you like she did that pig.” When she walks to the SUV, three of the men follow her then stand guard on each side and the rear of the vehicle.

I mentally adjust my plan to take them out if things go south. It’s going to make it a little more challenging, but not impossible.

Ilya walks my way, and I keep my casual stance. When he’s only about five feet from me, he stops. I want to roll my eyes at his mistake. His arrogance is going to get him killed. He studies me, stopping on the knife in the sheath at my side before moving back up to my face. “Search her,” he orders the man behind him.

Yeah, no. Looks like this is going to shit.

I lunge before either him or his bodyguards can anticipate my moves.

I get past his bodyguard and wrap my arm around Ilya’s neck, swinging myself up onto his back and putting the knife to his throat before any of them can blink. Guns cock, and orders are screamed at me to let him go and put the knife down, or they’ll kill me. Ilya doesn’t even flinch. “Tell them to lower the guns, or I slice your throat, Pakhan.”

He should be grateful I’m not ending this now. I must be more tired than normal because any other time, I’d have killed them all and driven off without a care in the world.

Damn, he smells good. The scent of his cologne is one of my favorites, and his hair has a woodsy scent to it that almost distracts me. No, focus!

“Do you really think you’re going to make it out of here alive?” he asks, ever calm.

“Mmm, I think I will.” I counter when he tenses, tightening my legs around him and letting the blade press deep enough into his throat to draw blood. He stills again. “You think I won’t kill you, but you couldn’t be more wrong. And I have to tell you how insulting it is that I found your niece, rescued her, killed the fucker who took her in the first place, and instead of a thank you, you treat me like I’m some sort of criminal. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners, Romanov? Cool name, by the way. Always did love the Anastasia movie growing up. The cartoon one, not the other shit. Now, the guns, please.”

All a bunch of bullshit, considering my upbringing, but it serves a purpose for now.

“Lower them,” he barks. They follow orders slowly, and the tension increases. They’re ready to whip them up and fire at any second.

“Thank you. What a good boy you are,” I praise, patting his head for good measure.

Am I insane? Yes. Do I care? No.

Ilya tenses. “Did you just pat me on the head like a dog?”

“I believe in giving praise where it’s due. Besides, someone obviously didn’t give you enough compliments as a child if this is how you treat people. All suspicious-like. Now, here is what we’re going to do. I’m going to take my knife away and hop down. Then you are going to walk forward, join your men, and you are going to be a good little boy and not do anything stupid like try to kill me. We can talk like adults, or I’ll embarrass you again, and this time, I’ll make sure you never speak again.” I whisper, “And the knife is a little dull from so much use tonight, so it will make it especially painful.” I dig the knife a bit deeper to punctuate my statement. “And I would hate to mess up that sexy voice of yours. I bet it would sound really nice wrapped up in some nice sheets. Maybe in another life, hmmm?”

He cocks his head, gazing at me out of the corner of his eye. Damn, at this angle, with his face this close, he’s a work of art. Hard jawline, a slightly crooked nose, and lips made to trace a woman’s body. The eyes are the kicker for me. A bright, piercing blue filled with a darkness that calls on my own.

The man is a killer and enjoys it. Like knows like.

Finally, he says, “Then I hope you’ll enjoy it being the last you’ll ever hear if you don’t release me.”

“Gonna kill me with words, are you?” I smirk and spin the knife, pressing the sharp point against the main artery in his neck then trace it slowly. His body tenses even more. “And what exactly will those final words be, Pakhan? Something dark and sexy? Do tell me. Let’s see just how wet you can make me.” I move the knife up to just below his chin. “And maybe, if you impress me, I’ll let you go. But try anything funny …” I glide the knife down and press right at his voice box. “And you won’t be speaking again.”