Page 55 of Assassin: Part 1

“Fine. Forty-eight hours, Miguel. And if there is one more attempt on my life or to trick me in any way, there will be no more chances.” And just to add a little more fuel to the already blazing fire, I say, “And if I’m hearing the rumor mill correctly, there’s already another replacement ramping up to take your place should you fail.”

“Who?”

I chuckle and hang up, leaving him in suspense. I’m not about to give the man any more chances. Either he cleans house and gets a hold on his operation, or someone else will do it for him.

“That’s a clusterfuck we don’t need to be dealing with right now on top of everything else,” Zakhar huffs, slouching against the wall and scowling at his feet. “We’ve got rogue cartel members, an idiot trying to overthrow his father, a crazy stalker who’s starting to turn homicidal, and now a missing fucking plane. Could this night get any worse?”

“Shut the fuck up and stop trying to jinx us,” Oleg snaps. Then he looks back at me. “And speaking of your stalker, she’s gone. The cameras got her going down the hall, and then nothing. She fucking disappeared.”

I’m not surprised. I yank out the SIM in my phone, toss it in the drawer, and grab a new one. I’m not taking any chances. “At this point, I can’t focus on her. Until we figure out what the hell is going on with the plane, Simeon, and the cartel, she is the least of my problems.”

“She tried to fucking kill you, Ilya!” Zakhar roars, a rare burst of temper blasting my way. “How many fucking times do I need to tell you to stop thinking with your cock when it comes to her?”

“Watch it, Zakhar.”

“No, I fucking won’t. Do you not fucking understand, Ilya? She’s not fucking sane, and every time she’s around, the only thing the two of you do is fuck, and then she disappears after putting you in fucking danger. She’s shot you, drugged you, and now tried to burn you alive.”

“She wasn’t⁠—”

“I don’t want to hear you talking about that insane bullshit of her being jealous because you egged her on about some random woman in your bed. It’s goddamn nuts and you know it. You’re fucking lucky I stationed men outside your door at night or else you’d have been burned alive before anyone realized.”

“I’d have gotten out.”

“You had it barely halfway undone. And even if you had, you’d still have had severe burns. Jesus Christ, I get it, you like the chick, but she’s … she’s dangerous, Ilya.” His gaze bores into mine, almost pleading. “You’ve never allowed a woman to get this close to you before or under your skin the way she has. It’s going to get you killed.”

Oleg nods, lips thinned.

I understand what they’re trying to tell me, but I’m already rejecting it. This woman, she’s dangerous, sure, and definitely insane, but I don’t feel like I’m ever truly in danger with her. Actually, the opposite.

Even now, with how angry I am that she did all that to me, I still want to find her, tan her ass, and lock her away to keep as my own. Make her pay for everything she’s done, and find out what it is about her that has me obsessed with her whenever she’s near.

Still, the sane part of me knows this is a fucking problem. No one can have this much power over me. Especially not a woman. And definitely not this woman.

“She’s not a concern right now,” I say, ignoring the flash of anger on his face. “She’s gone, and if she comes back, then we’ll deal with her. Until then, I want my fucking plane found.” I look at Oleg. “And get Simeon on the damn phone. I want to know where we stand with his contact with the assassin. We haven’t heard shit if they’re going to assist, and I don’t fucking like it.”

Oleg nods, putting his phone to his ear as he walks out.

Zakhar opens his mouth to argue with me again, but then he shakes his head and storms out, slamming the door so hard the frame shakes and rattles.

I turn to look at the window, embracing the silence. I need to think. There are too many things moving, too many problems to handle.

Any Pakhan worth their salt would attribute it to a deliberate attack, but I can’t help feeling there’s more to it.

My stalker’s words echo loudly in my head. Your men are lazy, and I wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Are you that blind to what’s right in front of your face?

I really fucking hate that she might be right. But how the fuck does she know so much? Why is she involving herself in my business? A piece is missing here, and I can’t figure out what it is. I can’t pinpoint what has her looking at me so closely. Obsession, sure, but this hasn’t been a waning obsession. Or even one I would consider normal stalking behavior.

She’s shown up a couple times, sometimes years apart. Not a peep from her. Not a sighting. Either she’s that good, or her serial killing is catching up with her and she’s on the run.

I frown. Is that it? The cops are on her tail, and now she’s having to run. If that’s the case, why hasn’t she come to me for help?

Because you’ve already told her that you’re going to make her pay for everything she’s done.

That might be part of it, but there’s something else. Something I’m missing.

I scrub a hand over my face. Damn it, Zakhar is right. I can’t let this woman distract me. Whatever her issue is with me, I have to set it aside until the deal with the cartel and the plan with Simeon are finished. They need to be my entire focus.

The door slams open, and Oleg and Zakhar stalk forward. Oleg’s face is flushed with anger. “He won’t speak with me. I’m not worth his time,” he spits.