Beauty and the Assassin

by Nadia Lee

  I shrug. I’m not saying shit when he could be recording my answer. Antoine is loyal to Dominic, and he knows how much I hate his guts.

  “You mocked Dominic constantly for taking a bullet to get Elizabeth, and you did something similar.”

  Unlike Dominic, I was fighting three on my own. What can I do when the idiots couldn’t shoot, except to settle? Besides, the stab wound aches a little, even if it isn’t fatal. My plan was to take it in a non-vital area, but make sure I was covered in blood—not all of it mine. God only knows what plague those morons carry in their blood, but I figure with modern medical technology, they can cure me.

  It’s an acceptable risk to keep the little fawn with me. No woman can dump a man who literally bled for her.

  But before I could execute my plan, I heard Angelika’s breathing hitch, like she was about to hyperventilate but trying hard to be brave and control herself. And for some reason, that distracted me for a fraction of a second. Normally, my head is ice cold and steady when I fight. No exceptions. But that moment, something hot and feral raged in my mind, and I took the knife in the wrong spot—albeit not fatal and nothing too dangerous.

  Still, I deviated from the plan. Got distracted.

  Not good.

  It’s the kind of thing that could get me killed. And the fact that she’s the only one who can split my attention means she’s…

  Well. She holds my heart in her hands. More firmly, more permanently than I ever suspected possible.

  I let myself smile, a little bit bemused, a little bit stunned.

  Of course, what happened today will not happen again. Nobody will ever take my little fawn.

  I study my upper body more closely. The medical staff did an impressive job of bandaging me. Plus my torso is black and blue. Not because the trio of hired imbeciles actually managed to connect with anything, but because I did it to myself after I took care of Roy and before I barged into the warehouse with the other three. My little fawn would find it odd if I were in pristine condition except for a knife wound. Details matter.

  I know I did a good job because the nurse who came by earlier asked me if I was sure about not taking the pain meds. I told her I was certain. I want to be able to drive if Angelika wants to leave tonight.

  “You’re sad,” Antoine says.

  I ignore him. He knows how non-damaging the stab was. He also suspects I could’ve moved out of the way with time to spare. I will confirm nothing. I’ll be damned if I tell him I got distracted during a fight and received an unplanned version of the injury I was hoping to have.

  The door opens, and…

  Finally. I smile at the sight of Angelika walking in. Then I remember I’m supposed to be injured and wipe the grin off my face. Antoine raises an eyebrow, which I ignore.

  She looks well, considering. A little pale. Her soft lips tremble. The blood has been wiped from her legs, but her shoes are still bloody. Those wide whiskey eyes are swollen and bloodshot from crying. Her wrists are bruised and chafed from resisting the cuffs. Seeing that makes me think I should’ve tortured the three a bit before killing them.

  Well. There’s always Roy Wilks.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice is raw and pained, like she’s the one who was stabbed.

  More than okay. I’m feeling fantastic. But—must stick to the plan. “I’m not dead.”

  She clasps her hands over her mouth, tears filling her eyes.

  “Come.” I open my arms, then wince. I’m not faking that. The third moron stabbed me in the side, and it throbs when I spread my arms.

  “Oh my God.” She rushes over like she’s about to throw herself on me.

  I brace to catch her, but she stops right in front of me, then hesitates. “Oh my God,” she says again. “Look what happened to you…”

  Some bruises and the little stab wound? I’ve been hurt worse, and I didn’t have anybody to shed pretty tears, either.

  I’m tired of waiting for Angelika to wrap her arms around me. So I hug her. Her head on my shoulder, she bursts into tears.

  Antoine’s jaw has sagged open with shock as he stands behind her and watches us. He slowly shakes his head.

  I shoot him a small smile. But my eyes are giving him a death threat. If he screws this up for me, I’m going to make sure he never gets to meet his unborn child. And no one will ever find his body.

  He understands the message. He gives me a final disbelieving smirk and leaves.

  “Shh… It’s okay. If you cry too much, you’re going to look like a goldfish,” I say, patting her back.

  She lifts her head and glares at me. “Who cares about my eyes when you’re hurt? I didn’t realize… I mean, I know you could be hurt, but I never imagined…”

  “Seeing it is worse than just thinking about it.” Which is why I did it the way I did. My original plan was that she would never see a thing. “But you’re safe now.”

  “You should’ve waited for the police!” She tries to yell, but fails because she starts crying again.

  I wipe her tears with my thumbs. “They would have been too late.”

  “You could’ve died.”

  The little fawn must think I’m a fool to think those subpar idiots could touch me. Regardless, it makes it easier to milk her sympathy and love. “Could have. Didn’t.”

  She looks at the bandage over the stab wound. She shakes her head like she still can’t believe it. “It might leave a scar.”

  It will leave a scar. I’ll make sure of it, so she never forgets that I took a knife for her. If Dominic can sport a bullet scar, I can have one from a knife fight. “If you kiss it, maybe it won’t,” I say.

  Her jaw slackens, then she lets out a laugh. “You can’t be that hurt.”

  “Not a joke. I’m serious. I’m a man. I have to try.”

  She gazes at me, her swollen eyes still wet with tears. She couldn’t look more beautiful.

  She leans over and presses a soft kiss on my mouth, then my forehead. I grunt a little at the G-rated kisses, but it’s a vast improvement over how she’s been over the past seven days.

  “Roy’s missing,” she says after a moment.

  “I know.” The police will never find him.

  “I want to talk to you about it,” she whispers. “I want honesty. I can’t bear it if you hide things from me.” Her voice breaks toward the end. She’s in so much pain, and my heart aches for her. I start to rub the spot over my heart at the unfamiliar sensation.

  “Okay,” I say finally.

  “Can we go home?”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Angelika

  The hospital’s full of cops as we leave. But it isn’t their presence that comforts me. Although the police couldn’t find Roy at the warehouse, I know he didn’t escape. Tolyan wouldn’t have let him.

  It’s dark by the time we walk out into the parking lot to his car. We’ve been in the hospital for hours talking to the police. I couldn’t say much because I didn’t know much. But I told them about Roy and how evil he is. The officer I spoke to took notes, but I don’t know if she’s going to be able to do anything with the information I gave her. Local law enforcement agencies haven’t been able to do much over the years, and I don’t know if L.A. is going to be any different.

  Tolyan and I don’t talk during the drive. I’m too shaky, and Tolyan’s focused on driving. Just thinking about the bruises on his body makes me want to hurl. I don’t know how he’s moving like he’s okay. He’s being brave for me. He’s aware that if he lets me know just how much pain he’s in, I’m going to break down, sobbing again.

  God, I’m such a helpless fool! Tears don’t solve anything and they aren’t going to help anybody. But here I am, unable to stop them. I can’t not think about what happened to him. The knife plunging into his flesh. His shirt going red and wet.

  It was far more traumatizing than witnessing any of Roy’s hit-and-runs. I care too much about Tolyan.

  Do you think care is enough
to do justice to how you really feel about him?

  It’s not. But I’m too scared to dig deeper. Tolyan might not feel anything for me.

  He risked his life to protect you.

  Because he promised. He’s a man of his word. He doesn’t make many promises, but when he does, he keeps them. No matter what.

  When we reach the penthouse, the Dobermans come over. They whine and sniff us, their stubby tails wagging uncertainly. They know we smell different. Do they know we smell like a hospital?

  Tchaikovsky lets out a bark. He’s the oldest and the leader of the pack. He must’ve sensed that Tolyan is injured.

  “Shh…” Tolyan rubs his head. “It’s all good.” He goes to the pantry and grabs some treats for the animals.

  I watch him take care of them, his hands gentle as he pats them. They narrow their eyes in bliss, and lick his face. Their trust in and love for him are absolute.

  He lets the dogs out into the pool area and returns. I pat his favorite armchair.

  “You should sit down,” I say.

  “Not yet, but you can if you want.” He goes over to his liquor cabinet and pours himself a vodka. “Want something to drink?” he asks before reaching for a cigar.

  “No, thank you.” I eye the alcohol, then him. I’d feel better if he sat. Or better yet, lay down in bed. He looks a little pale. Understandable, since he’s been bleeding. I’m sure he’s in pain, too. The bruises looked bad at the hospital, and they’re going to get worse in the next day or two. Words bubble up, the things I need to say without sounding like I’m being bossy or overbearing.

  He lifts the glass to his lips.

  I rush over and put my palm on the rim, covering the drink. “Should you be drinking that? Won’t it make you bleed more?”

  “Drinking makes you bleed more?”

  “Doesn’t it thin your blood or something? And what about the medication you got? And I don’t know if you should smoke, either.” I can’t help babbling. “Cigars are okay when you’re healthy, but maybe not when you’re not.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You know what? Why don’t I just get you something else? Like some OJ. And a few carrot sticks.” I start toward the kitchen.

  He puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “I can’t smoke a carrot stick,” he says mildly. “The knife missed my lung. And vodka relaxes me. It’s good to be relaxed.”

  “But the medicine—”

  “I’m not taking any painkillers.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t like opiates.”

  Is he worried about becoming dependent? “The doctor only gave you a few. You aren’t going to get addicted.”

  “That’s not the issue. I don’t like the way they dull my senses.”

  He finally sinks into his plush armchair. I sit in a love seat and study him for any signs of discomfort or pain. I still think he shouldn’t be drinking or smoking, but I don’t know how to get him to listen.

  “I’m not going to die,” he says. “I promise. I didn’t dispatch those thugs just to die over a drink and a puff.” He lights his cigar. “As for Roy, you won’t have to worry about him ever again.”

  “What happened to him? The police said they couldn’t find him.” I have no idea what Tolyan did and am dying of curiosity. Letting him go isn’t something I can imagine Tolyan doing, but Roy is missing. Did he manage to distract Tolyan and run away anyway?

  “He went someplace far, far away, where he can never come back and hurt you.”

  Tolyan speaks tenderly, like he’s reciting a love poem. But my heart beats funny at the memory of him slipping into the house of the man who supposedly committed suicide.

  “Is he…dead?” I whisper.

  “No,” he says. “He isn’t.”

  I exhale, volatile emotions mixing inside me. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed or scared. Maybe it’s a little bit of everything. Even though the police couldn’t find the body, I thought Roy had been killed, just like the three men he hired.

  If he’s still alive, that means I assumed wrong and Tolyan let him go. Roy could’ve lied to Tolyan and promised he’d never bother me again. Pleaded for mercy and somehow got it.

  But that doesn’t mean my stepbrother’s going to keep his word. He can always come back to finish the job. And kill Tolyan, too, like he’s ranted and raved that he would. I bet he wouldn’t have been granted mercy if Tolyan had heard that particular speech.

  He leans over with a small grunt, then pats my hand. “It’s fine. I swear on the grave of my mother that he will never bother you again, little fawn. You’re safe.”

  I hold his gaze. Tolyan’s pale gray-blue eyes are steady, and there’s a monumental conviction and confidence to his tone. He wouldn’t be saying this if he had even the slightest doubt.

  My whole body collapses like melting wax as the tension dissipates. It feels strange to know Roy’s gone from my life, and I feel wrung out. Contrary to what I imagined, relief is only a tiny sliver of the emotions going through me. Rage over all the years lost. Sorrow for the people he hurt. A small bit of uncertainty over a future that won’t have a dark specter hanging over me. I used to think it was silly when some workaholic would come into a café I worked at and whine, “Can you believe I actually have a weekend off? What am I going to do with all that free time!”

  But now I understand exactly.

  All my hopes have been vague. Going to college is one of the things I wanted to do, but I never thought beyond that—nothing about which school, what to study. Hell, I don’t even have a valid SAT score to submit. And that isn’t the only fuzzy dream I’ve been harboring. I should give myself a few days—at least—to plan out my future, give it a more concrete shape.

  I finally sit back up. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He winces as he straightens and sinks back into the armchair.

  “I still wish you hadn’t been hurt.”

  “I’ve been hurt worse.” He tosses it out casually, like that makes everything better.

  “You just don’t get it, do you? The point isn’t how badly you’ve been injured before. It’s that you’re injured at all!” I start to hyperventilate. “It isn’t something to brag about.”

  He gives me a long stare. “Back at the hospital, you said you wanted honesty. I’m giving it to you.”

  I shake my head, trying not to be exasperated. He’s either purposely twisting what I said, or really is this obtuse. My money’s on the former. “What I want is for you to honestly accept that you should’ve never risked yourself like that. It was too dangerous.”

  He gives me a lazy look. “I was never in any danger.”

  “Really? Because it looks to me like you kinda got stabbed there. I’d call that danger.”

  He finishes half his vodka, then lets out a long sigh. “I will say it again. I wasn’t in any danger. And you weren’t, either. I knew the day Roy was in town.”

  “What?” Shock stiffens my back. “Why didn’t you say something?” Then I remember I avoided even looking in Tolyan’s direction once I discovered he’d hacked into my phone and pretended to be me. Was he in too much of a snit to tell me? Argh! “I mean, we were still sort of fighting, but I would’ve listened if it was about my stepbrother.”

  “You were upset about being bait. I didn’t want to make the situation worse. I was hoping to take care of him without involving you at first, but then…” He knocks back the rest of his drink. “I couldn’t.”

  From the inscrutable expression on his face, I don’t think his inability to carry out his original plan was due to Roy being particularly clever. If that were the case, Tolyan would’ve looked frustrated or annoyed. Maybe both. “I don’t understand.”

  “You were going to leave me once I took care of Roy. I didn’t want that.”

  That’s… I don’t know what to say to the admission. I was so furious that I was considering leaving, but I wouldn’t have just walked out without a word. Getting rid of Roy means s
o much. No more looking over my shoulder. No more freaking out every time I see a speeding car.

  “Then you should’ve made your case,” I say quietly. “You’ve been so quiet since the argument. I thought you didn’t care enough to make me understand.”

  “I’m not good at explaining myself. I don’t talk. I execute. And I make my point by executing.”

  My sixth sense tickles the back of my neck. It’s a warning: if I press, Tolyan’s going to say something I don’t want to hear. But I meant what I said about wanting honesty. I don’t want to be caught unaware and get angry with him. I’m tired of being angry, especially when he’s hurt. “What did you execute? What point were you trying to make?”

  “I wanted to show that I’d take a bullet for you—”

  I explode to my feet. “Oh my fucking God, what?”

  “—but that failed. So I settled for taking a knife instead.”

  “Oh my God!” I shriek. “You’re crazy!”

  The cigar makes a small arc in the air. “It’s a small price to pay to make a point.”

  His placid, matter-of-fact tone is like pouring gasoline on the proverbial fire. “What point? That you’re an idiot? That you don’t care about your well-being? Or that you have a death wish? If you’d gotten shot at that distance, you would’ve died!” Actually, never mind all that. If I’d known, I would’ve killed him myself first!

  “That’s why I said it failed, but really, it was the quality of the lowlifes involved.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’re irritated that the bad guys weren’t high-quality enough?”

  “They didn’t fire fast enough. My knife got the guy in the center before he could clear his gun.” Tolyan shrugs. It means, What am I supposed to do when the other guy is so awful?

  “You are insane.”

  “But things worked out well enough.” He points to the bandages on his torso.

  “Did you let him stab you on purpose?” I demand, needing to make sure.

  He tilts his hand back and forth. “Yes and no.”

  “No playing with words, Tolyan.”

  “I was thinking about it, but I got distracted, so he got me.”

  “I don’t believe you. You would never get distracted during a fight!” The man is laser-focused, highly capable. I’m certain he used to be some kind of high-level spy, who can never reveal his past because it’s still classified.