Beauty and the Assassin

by Nadia Lee

  Tolyan doesn’t bother to deny it.

  “Did you have that flasher show up at the jogging trail, too?” I demand. My hands curl into tight fists, and my nails dig into my palms.

  “No. He had nothing to do with me.”

  It doesn’t make me feel better. I can’t decide if I want to scream or sob. How stupid was I to be grateful and happy? I thought I was in love. I thought he cared. Thank God I never told him I loved him. That would’ve been the cherry on this cake of humiliation.

  My sleep-deprived head throbs with the tsunami of awful revelations. But my heart is bleeding. I want to cling to the only thing I have left—my pride—and walk out. But that’s the stupidest thing I could do. I didn’t suffer all this time, be made into a fool for weeks, just to walk out into the city and get killed by Roy or his henchmen.

  “Do you have anything to say?” I ask, half desperate. I don’t know exactly what I want him to say, but I need to hear him say something.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asks as though he’s willing to tell me what I need to hear to calm down.

  I realize I want him to explain himself. Or apologize, at least. I want to know that even if he started out with the intent to use me, his feelings have changed…

  I want to know he cares about me.

  But he just stands there looking at me. I realize he isn’t going to explain or apologize or tell me he cares.

  And I’m an idiot for expecting things to be different.

  “Okay, I can’t do this. I gotta go.”

  “It’s too dangerous outside,” he says flatly.

  “I meant to my room.” I’m not dumb enough to risk my safety, no matter how furious I am. “Alone. To get some sleep.” I shoot him a resentful look over a shoulder. “You don’t think we’re going to just act like everything’s fine, do you?”

  And with that, I go to my room and slam the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Tolyan

  Four days have passed since Angelika’s discovery. The little fawn is still in a snit. She does what she must to keep herself safe, which is good—some women act like emotional idiots and jeopardize their own well-being. But that’s about where her reasonableness ends. She gazes out the window as we go to the foundation, she doesn’t say anything to me when we’re in the office and she’s mulishly silent on the way home.

  Cutely childish, but her options for expressing her anger are limited. She can’t leave, she can’t throw things at me, she can’t strangle me or stab me. Since I cook, she can’t even spit in my food.

  So I get the cold, silent treatment.

  The little fawn wants me to say I’m sorry. But I don’t want to lie. To be truly sorry, I must also believe that not only was I wrong, but if I could turn back time, I wouldn’t do it again.

  But I haven’t done anything wrong. And if I could go back in time, I would simply be more careful so she didn’t find out.

  However, that isn’t what she wants to hear. So I keep it to myself, and we maintain our odd sort of detente.

  I go over to Dominic’s office. Antoine and I meet every two months to discuss security details. We alternate locations; this one happens to be on Antoine’s turf.

  Antoine’s a dark-haired man in his late twenties, raised in the States but educated in England, which is where his ridiculous accent came from. He refused to lose it because it helps him “get more chicks.” Now that he’s married, he doesn’t need to keep up the pretense, but his wife likes the accent, so he keeps on as though he’s a Londoner.

  We meet in his office. It’s sizable, but not overly so. He doesn’t keep much in the space, which is smart. But he has a framed photo of himself and his wife. She’s smiling by his side in the picture, like she has everything she could ever dream of.

  I’m not a big fan of his wife. She’s Dominic’s baby sister, and I don’t believe anybody who shares his blood can really be good…except Thomas, because Lizochka’s goodness and brilliance can overpower the stupidity in his DNA.

  The woman’s expression in the picture stirs something uncomfortable. I tamp it down before it can swell up and distract me.

  Antoine hands me the security plan for Lizochka, Thomas and Dominic. I scan it. It’s good enough for most circumstances, but not right now.

  “Double the security,” I say. “For Lizochka and Thomas at least.”

  Antoine quirks an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “It’s only until I say otherwise.”

  He narrows his eyes, then lets out an exasperated sigh. “What the hell is going on, man? You know you can trust me enough to share.”

  “But do I want to?”

  “I think you do, since it will help me do my job better.”

  True enough. Besides, Antoine is discreet. Comes with the job description. And I don’t have to tell him everything. Just some crumbs. “Keep it to yourself.”

  He nods.

  “There’s an unfinished task I need to check off.”

  He arches an eyebrow. “An unfinished task?”

  “There’s a criminal who is known as the Dealer. He’s in L.A. and he’s targeting one of the foundation’s employees.” I don’t say “intern” because then Antoine’s going to know exactly who. He doesn’t need to know that, not right now. I’m a firm believer in giving as little info as possible without compromising the objective. People who know too much think they’re in charge and tend to ruin good plans.

  “Shouldn’t we beef up security at the foundation, then? We don’t want anything happening to the workers there.”

  “He has a nasty habit of running over people his target is close to. He might just decide to run over Lizochka and Thomas.” But the little shit will never succeed so long as I’m alive.

  “What about Dominic?”

  Of course Antoine is worried about him. They’re best friends and in-laws. “This employee has never met him, so the risk is negligible.”

  “Still. I’ll increase security for him, too.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “You going after this Dealer guy yourself?” Antoine asks, after making some notes on his plan.

  “Yes.” Not just him, but his hired thugs too. He might have vowed to kill Angelika himself, but he is too arrogant to grab her himself. He seems to think he’s too good for certain criminal tasks.

  “Have you told the employee about the threat?”

  “She’s aware, but not the fact that he’s in town. I prefer to keep it that way.” No need to freak her out, have her behave erratically or try to run and tip Roy Wilks off. Plus, if she ever asks me why I failed to inform her, I’ll point out that she quit talking to me. It’ll be petty, but satisfying.

  “How come? She’s going to be exposed.”

  I give him an “are you kidding me?” look. “I have it under control. No broken bones. No blood. I promise.” I don’t want her hurt. I want her protected and safe, and healthy enough to continue being mad at me, although ideally, she’ll be grateful and let me know in the best way possible. “And she’ll be thrilled once I take care of the threat for her.”

  Antoine scrutinizes me. He isn’t an idiot. He probably knows how I take care of threats, even if he wants to pretend what I do is call 911 and wait for the police to apprehend the bad guys. I do that as well, but the police department has too many cases to handle, too many lowlife criminals to process. Regardless of the number of TV shows that would have you believe crimes can be solved with the wrongdoer apprehended in a matter of days, the reality is exhausting, confusing and not as cut and dried.

  I, on the other hand, have only a few such problems to solve. It’s only right I get off my ass once in a while and take some of the burden off law enforcement.

  “Hope she appreciates that,” Antoine says finally.

  My eyebrows pinch. Appreciate… She might’ve done that before.

  I realize that once Roy’s gone, she’s going to leave. She has no reason to stay with me and is already uncomfortable—even angry—wit
h my methods.

  Normally, I’d shrug and go about my life. I had my fun, and I got a man off my kill list. The woman isn’t clinging or harboring helplessly romantic notions about me. It will be a clean break—something I always prefer.

  But I don’t want the little fawn to vanish. I want her to stay. I want to hang on to her with the desperation of a man fighting an apocalyptic battle while clutching the last sword left in the world.

  No… That’s too ugly an analogy. She’s like a bright light in my life. The only person who makes me laugh and want to let my guard down a little. Many people think that I’m in love with Lizochka, but what she has is my loyalty.

  It’s Angelika who has my heart. It’s a sad, damaged organ, incapable of much of what makes most people human. But what little humanity it’s capable of is hers.

  If I eliminate Roy in the most efficient way possible, nobody’ll find his body after tonight. But I’m going to lose Angelika. So I’ll have to use a less efficient method, something more convoluted and time-consuming.

  “You’re scaring me.” Antoine’s worried words break my train of thoughts.

  I frown. “Why?”

  He makes a circle around my face. “Your expression.”

  “And you call yourself a man. You’re a disgrace.” As I stand up, my gaze falls on the framed photo on Antoine’s desk.

  Events must be carefully engineered, so that even after Roy’s gone, Angelika will want to stay by my side. And be happy, like Antoine’s wife in the picture.

  For that, I’m willing to bleed.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Angelika

  Seven days since I discovered Tolyan’s duplicity. If it weren’t for Roy, I’d leave the penthouse. Since Tolyan has refused to let me chip in for utilities or food, all the money I’ve been making at the foundation’s been sitting in my bank account. With the amount I’ve saved, I have over ten thousand dollars, enough to get an apartment and move out.

  But Roy is still at large. And Courtney is his spy. When I discovered that Tolyan’s been hacking into my phone and pretending to be me, I was furious. Couldn’t even decide if I could trust anybody ever again. But within a day or two, I was able to calm down and realize Tolyan’s the only one I can rely on to keep me safe at the moment. It’s obvious he has a score to settle with Roy. Otherwise he wouldn’t have tried to use me to lure Roy to L.A. Although it galls me to be the cheese in Tolyan’s mousetrap, I don’t think Tolyan will let Roy hurt me.

  Still, I let Tolyan know I’m upset over the fact that he wouldn’t talk to me like an adult worthy of respect. He has to know why I’m mad. He knows I want him to apologize for using me. But he won’t do it. It’s as if he’s convinced he did nothing wrong.

  If he’d just told me what he was planning to do, I would’ve cooperated. Can’t he see that? I’ve done as he’s asked, even when I didn’t like it, because he’s the expert. That should’ve earned me at least a bit of respect.

  But it’s clear that he’s never respected me. The birthday song was just that—him being nice because he feels sorry for me that I got something ugly and nasty from Roy.

  So I ignore him just like the way he ignores me. But that doesn’t mean my body doesn’t go liquid warm at the sight of him. Or that my skin has quit prickling with excitement every time he’s near.

  And the fact that I can’t quell my attraction to him pisses me off more.

  On Friday, Rhonda and I go out to lunch. I’ve been spending more time with her, mainly to avoid Tolyan. Plus, there’s a gossip advantage: she tells me everything about the foundation, what projects are coming up, which committees are looking for extra help and where I should keep my eyes peeled for additional opportunities.

  Today is no different. She brings me up to speed on two different projects that may have a need for more full-time staff. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without your help,” I say.

  She gives me her trademark sunny smile. “You’re welcome. I hope you get to come on permanently. It’s been great working with you.”

  I flush at the compliment. Rhonda’s too nice to say anything mean, but she also isn’t the type to give empty compliments, either. I’m hoping this means I’m going to get a good evaluation at the end of my internship. Since I work closely with Rhonda most of the time, she’s the one who’ll sign off on it.

  After we finish our sandwiches at a deli three blocks from the office, we walk back. I make sure to keep Rhonda on the side closest to the buildings. I look over my shoulder at the pedestrians. Which one of them works with Tolyan? He said I was “bait,” which means that he’s watching so the second Roy appears, he can pounce. Tolyan seems convinced that this time Roy himself will be coming for me. Won’t it be ironic if Roy tries to grab me and gets hit by Tolyan’s car? Not that I think Tolyan would use that sort of method. He’d pick something a bit more elegant and sneaky. Like how he “suicided” that man.

  Or maybe he’d throw some cream of corn at Roy.

  The light turns red just as we reach the first intersection. Rhonda’s phone rings, and she pulls it out. “Excuse me. It’s my daughter.” She pulls back a couple of steps to chat with her, a hand over the other ear to block out the traffic noise.

  I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of the SoCal sun. An almost violent jerk on my arm shatters the peace. Yanking my arm free, I open my eyes. Eric is standing in front of me, fuming.

  What the hell is he doing here? This isn’t Coffee Heaven’s intersection. And unless his mother redid his schedule, he should working right now.

  He grabs my arm again. I try to jerk free, but this time he keeps hold. “Let me go, Eric.”

  “No.” His eyes are wild and his nostrils flaring, like a bull taunted beyond its limit and ready to charge. “You’re going to make the bad press go away first.”

  “What?”

  “The last time you were at the café, you made the videos go viral.”

  It takes a moment, but I realize what he’s referring to—his losing his temper about the Pryce Family Foundation internship. “Are you nuts? I didn’t put them online. Go talk to the people who did, not me.”

  “Whatever! I know you had something to do with it!”

  We begin to attract a crowd. Instead of trying to break up the confrontation, many are pulling out their phones to record it. Great. More videos to hit the social media feeds. At least I’m not the instigator. The fact that the videos prove that Eric’s the aggressor is the only good thing about everyone being a cameraman.

  Rhonda rushes over. “What’s going on?” she demands, her hands on her hips like an angry mother hen.

  “Stay out of it, lady. This doesn’t concern you.” His grip on me tightens.

  “Ow, Eric. You’re hurting me,” I say, partly because it really does hurt and partly because I want everyone to know he’s being a violent jerk. If he thought our first confrontation was bad, wait until this goes viral. It’s amazing how he never thinks things through before going off on his own to make things worse.

  Rhonda’s eyes flash. “Let her go!”

  “Mind your own business!” He lets me go and shoves at her.

  The crowd goes, “Oooooh,” but nobody jumps forward to help. Gasping, I reach for her and grab her arm, so she doesn’t fall on the hard concrete.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “I’m fine. I’m going to call for help,” she says.

  “You aren’t calling nobody! Not until she fixes everything!” Eric glares at me. “Because of you, I can’t get an internship anywhere! You’re going to tell everyone it was a misunderstanding and get me a position at the Pryce Family Foundation.”

  Ha! I don’t think so! “No! There was no misunderstanding. You’re just a jerk! You wouldn’t fit in at the foundation.”

  His face turns red with rage. He starts toward me.

  “Okay, that’s enough.” A couple of men in tank tops step between me and Eric, forcing him to back off. Maybe chivalry isn’t dead. “You heard the
lady. She’s got nothing to say to you, punk.” One of them shoves Eric in the chest, causing him to stumble back.

  Both men are huge, shoulders and biceps bulging. You can hardly see their necks, and their upper bodies are covered in tattoos. One has a couple of thick gold rings on his right hand.

  “Thank you,” I say quickly, putting a hand on the one closest to me. Eric’s made enough of a scene, plus he probably doesn’t want to face two huge guys on his own. But I don’t want a physical altercation. It could get these men into trouble.

  “You okay?” the one without the rings asks.

  “Yes, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “Cool.” The man grabs me by the upper arm as his partner opens the door to a car that’s sitting at the curb. No Rings pushes me roughly inside. I try to grab on to the doorframe or something, but my hands slip off the metal. I try to go out the other side, but No Rings keeps hold of me, and before I can jump out, Rings has come around and gotten in. Now they’re on either side of me.

  Trapped!

  “No! Stop!” I switch directions and try to climb over No Rings to escape. But Rings yanks me back into the center of the seat, his hand carelessly rough.

  They slam the doors, the light changes to green and the vehicle takes off, throwing me into the seatback.

  “What are you doing?” Terror and confusion thrum in my veins, my blood already chilling. How can these guys go from nice to bad so fast?

  “Just doin’ a job,” the driver says with a smile.

  “Who hired you?” I ask, praying it’s some inexplicably weird method Tolyan decided to use without telling me. But I already know deep inside that this kind of roughness isn’t his MO. He prefers to be more elegant and efficient—and he doesn’t leave witnesses.

  This kind of blatant kidnapping…

  It’s no hit-and-run, but that makes my situation even scarier. I have no clue what to expect, what Roy’s going to do to make me suffer before he kills me, but he isn’t kidnapping me to say hello. My mouth dries as a harsh denial surges in my gut. I curl my cold hands into fists. But they aren’t strong enough to hurt either of the men next to me.