Page 21 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
“This way.” I duck down a side street, so narrow, it’s impassable to traffic.
We pass under the archway of an old building and step into a cobbled courtyard framed on all sides by the building. I close my eyes, reaching with my senses. Birds call from a nearby tree, water trickles over a water fountain in the middle of the courtyard, and there’s the distant sound of a car engine, the echo of a boat horn bellowing into the wind far out at sea. I sense nothing sinister.
“Sasha.” Adeline’s staring at me when I open my eyes. “Why are we here?”
Ignoring her, I walk toward the front of the building. On the front steps, sits several plastic dishes filled with cat food, and a lone stray taking its fill. It’s covered in battle scars, and its white fur is dirty and bloodied.
“Hey.” Adeline makes kissing noises at the cat, reaching out.
I grab her wrist, tugging it away. “Please don’t get scratched by a filthy alley cat. Taking you to a doctor because you have an infected cut would be inconvenient.”
She jerks her hand away, and her jaw tenses with her glare. Adelina is easy to read, overly expressive. With minimal effort, I can tell what she’s thinking—it’s a weakness…of hers.
I type in the code I committed to memory three years ago. The door opens with a deflated buzz, and I step into a dated lobby. The marble that was once so grand is now dirty and tired. There’s a desk that sits abandoned, a stairwell, and an elevator. Adelina steps toward the elevator.
“This way.” I start toward the stairs. “Never put yourself in a metal box with no escape route unless you absolutely have to.”
She says nothing and follows me. Our footsteps echo off the stairwell until we reach the fourth floor. Digging in my pocket, I find the key and slide it into the lock. The door creaks open, hinges squealing in protest.
“Wow,” Adelina murmurs under her breath.
White dust sheets cover the furniture, and a thick layer of dust adorns every surface. I yank the sheet off the sofa, and it kicks a cloud into the air. She coughs and waves a hand in front of her face as tiny particles dance through a narrow shaft of sunlight cutting between the shutters. “Whose place is this?”
“Mine.”
“Uh, when were you last here?”
“Never.”
She raises a brow. “You just keep a random apartment halfway across the world for absolutely no reason?” I don’t answer, and she frowns. “Who are you?”
I tug another sheet from a chair. “I’m a soldier.”
“That man in the penthouse, he was a soldier. He was Russian. Like you. Did you know him?”
I release a long breath. “No more questions.”
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I mean, you’ve been so obliging in answering so many already.”
I ignore her attempt at humor and the way she rolls her eyes. “You do everything I say when I say it. Are we clear?”
“Technically, don’t you work for me?”
“No. I agreed to protect you. How I do that is my own business.”
“You do realize that you don’t have to be a complete dick, right?”
I lift a brow. “Your happiness means little to me.”
“I’m getting that.”
Ignoring her, I move through the apartment, methodically uncovering the furniture. I drop the ball for a fraction of a second, but it’s not until sunlight floods the room that I react. Turning, I drop the cloths and dive for Adelina where she stands in front of the now open window. I grunt as my back hits the cold tile floor. Adelina’s forced breath rushes over my face as she lands on top of me. Her nails dig through my shirt and into my chest as wide eyes meet mine.
I roll her over, forcing just enough space between our bodies to keep her from touching me. “Do not open the windows,” I say on a growl.
Her brows pull together. “It’s dusty.”
“You can survive dust, not a bullet.”
“They don’t want me dead.” Her words are nothing more than a whisper.
“For now. Use your brain. I can’t do all of your thinking for you.” I shove off her and walk away, annoyed. I wasn’t aware for a second, and a second is all it takes for a shooter to take out a mark. I should know. I’m rusty, that’s all. Months of sitting in the lap of luxury in that New York City penthouse have dulled my senses. I’ve lost my touch, and that cuts a lot deeper than it should. This is all I have. This is what I’m good at, and without it, I’m nothing.
That night, I sleep on the sofa, while Adelina takes the only bed in the apartment. My sleep is fitful, plagued with dreams.
Blinding pain ricochets around my skull, and I grit my teeth, trying to dissipate the ringing in my ears.
