The HiT Series

by Margaret McHeyzer

  I look over to Ophelia, and she lowers her gaze to the floor, refusing to meet my eyes.

  But when she finally does look at me, I see it. My own eyes looking back at me.

  She can’t turn me in any more than I can kill her.

  “I won’t run the Bratva either,” she finally says.

  “And so it’s settled.” I stand and Ben moves from the end of the coffee table where he was sitting. “Goodbye, sister. Take care of yourself.” I take a step toward the front door and Ophelia puts a hand on my shoulder.

  The move is gentle and loving, a sister’s warm touch.

  “I’ll tell Dmitri I won’t run his illegal business.”

  “No need. I’ll take care of this one.”

  I go to move away from her, but her hand remains on my shoulder for a moment longer, preventing me from moving forward.

  There must be an internal struggle within her. I’d love to be inside her head at this moment to understand what she’s thinking. Has she got a hand on my shoulder because she wants to hug me? Or does she want to slap my wrists together and handcuff me?

  Either way I don’t give her the chance to do either, I swing around and embrace her, letting her know I’ll always look after her without saying a damned word.

  “Goodbye, Ophelia.”

  “Goodbye…” She seems to want to say more, but doesn’t.

  Really, what can she say?

  Ben and I leave, and as we walk out to the car, I link our hands together.

  This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, leaving my sister behind.

  But we’re polar opposites, and I can’t let my twilight dim her sun. She would never survive in the dark.

  “Are you alright?” Ben asks as he lets go of my hand and puts his arm around my shoulder, drawing me into his warmth.

  “Not yet, but I will be. We need to see Dmitri.”

  Anna

  “Dmitri,” I greet him as we walk into what I presume is his office at the back of a laundromat, kissing him on both cheeks.

  “Anna, so pleased you could come today. I assume you’re here to talk to me about my offer for you to run things back in Russia.”

  “I am,” I say as he indicates for Ben and me to sit opposite him. An old oak desk separates us.

  Henchman stands in the corner, partially concealed by the darkness of the dim room. A single light bulb hangs down over the desk. It really is a stereotypical mobster’s office, something you would see in a movie about a dodgy mafia don.

  Well, he is dodgy.

  “Coffee, da?”

  “No, I’m fine thank you. Ben?” I ask as I turn to look at him.

  “I’m fine too, thank you,” Ben replies politely.

  “Tell me, when should we fly out to get you started?”

  He’s certainly eager. But he’s not going to like my answer.

  “I’m sorry, Dmitri, but I won’t be taking over. And Ophelia won’t either.”

  “You talked to Ophelia?” he asks, sitting up straighter on the other side of the desk.

  “No I didn’t, but you will not approach her.”

  “This is really not your business, Anna.”

  “It is her business because Ophelia is her family,” Ben answers, angry and agitated.

  “I am both girls’ family too, and I will talk to Ophelia if I choose to.”

  “And tell her what?”

  “I will explain it is in her best interest to find you and convince you that you will both head up the family.” He pounds a fist on the desk, and one of the pens that was lying there begins to roll toward the edge of the desk.

  “Or what?” I say bluntly, my assassin demeanor overtaking my saner self.

  “Or I kill you both,” he says in his thick Russian accent.

  “Really?” I ask as a chuckles rips through me.

  “I tell him to kill you and he will,” he points to Ophelia’s father. Henchman doesn’t move a muscle or twitch an eyebrow. He stands enveloped by the darkness, as any good foot soldier would.

  “You would kill me?”

  “Of course. You are highly trained and would be an asset to Bratva. I need you, but I won’t hesitate to kill you if you defy me.”

  “Then why would you kill Ophelia?”

  “To teach you lesson.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Henchman’s upper lip twitch, a small tremor would’ve gone unnoticed if I hadn’t been looking for his reaction.

  And it’s exactly as I assumed.

  “Well good luck with that. Ben and I have somewhere to be. Goodbye, Dmitri.”

  “You leave, I kill her.”

  “Do what you must,” I say, shrugging, as both Ben and I stand to leave.

  “I will torture her slowly,” he yells after me, hoping to make me angry enough to stay.

  “Gentlemen,” I say as I turn and give them both a bow.

  Henchman

  “Bring Ophelia to me,” Dmitri spits angrily. He stands and slams his fists on the desk. “Bring her to me by tomorrow. I’ll get Anna back here to watch her fucking sister get her throat sliced open.” He sweeps his arm across the desk and everything goes flying across the room.

  “I understand,” I say as I take a step out from the corner.

  “If she wants to play hardball with me, then I’ll fucking play. I’ll kill that fucking cop sister of hers and then I’ll slice her boyfriend’s throat open. She will run this family, if she likes it or not.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “The ungrateful little whore! I saved her from that brothel, I saved her from being caught by FBI and she refuses me? Who the hell does she think she is?”

  “15,” I say with a touch of humor in my voice.

  “You think this is funny? If she doesn’t run it, the Bratva will definitely die. There will be no one to save what generations have worked so hard for.”

  “No, I don’t think it’s funny. That’s been her training, and I doubt you’ll convince her to change her mind.”

  “If I strip everything away from her, she’ll have no choice but to run the family. And I will, starting with Ophelia. She is female, she must have some stupid family love for her, so she dies first.”

  “I protected you in Russia for all those years, and then I picked up and moved here when you found Ophelia, to care for her as you wanted.”

  “And you did a fine job of it, my friend, but now is time to move this entire Bratva into today’s society. They will accept Anna, and she will lead them.”

  “No, my friend, she will not.” I emphasize the words he just threw at me, as I take the gun with the filed-off serial numbers out of my holster from beneath my jacket.

  Dmitri’s face pales, and he takes a step back as his hands come up in surrender. “What are you doing?” he asks me. His eyes narrow and his brows furrow together.

  “I brought Ophelia up like she’s my own. I will not hurt her. You will not hurt her. I love her. The Bratva is now finished,” I say as I shoot Dmitri straight between the eyes.

  The back of his head explodes and he collapses to the ground.

  No one touches my girl. No one.

  Anna

  “15, I haven’t seen you in years,” Agent says, astonished as I come though the office door with Ben.

  “No you haven’t.” I sit on a chair opposite all his high-tech computers and other equipment he has.

  “What can I help you with?” he asks nervously.

  “You sold me out, and I’m not pleased about that,” I say, my voice calm and even.

  “Dmitri told me he’d kill my sister if I didn’t help him.”

  “I’ll let her live, but you…” I shake my head.

  “But I never did anything wrong. I was only under his instructions to protect you.” He’s trying to plead with me.

  Really, Agent? After all these years, you think that’ll work?

  I lift my bland, black Glock and point it at Agent.

  “You deceived me, and I can no longer trust you.”r />
  I shoot to kill, and with one bullet he dies.

  Ben lifts the large soda bottle he was carrying and tips the contents all over Agent, the computers, and the desk. He takes a lighter out of his pocket, lights it, and throws it into the gasoline.

  The fire spreads rapidly, and Ben and I leave with an inferno burning through everything 15-related.

  Anna

  Sitting in my office at the station, I look around at my reminders of Ben Pearson.

  Two days ago, he and Anna barged into my parents’ house and told me everything I knew was a lie. I didn’t know what to do then, and truthfully, I still have no idea.

  I’m FBI. I swore to uphold the law and protect the people inside the borders of this country.

  I’m supposed to arrest criminals and see to it that they’re locked away, not to feel anything for them. It’s not my job to feel sorry for them or want to help them.

  But why is it different when I’m told I have a sister, who’s also the most sought-after assassin in the world? She’s 15, a damn legend. The biggest rock star of the underworld. Her very existence is considered to be a damned urban myth. Her crimes are the case studies we heard while training at the academy, then stories we heard while we trained at FBI headquarters. I honestly didn’t think the things ascribed to her were actually achievable. And now I find out not only are the stories true, 15 is really my sister.

  I take out the photo I have of my birth mother and lay it on my desk. I steeple my fingers and bring them to my mouth. Even my fantasy about Natalia was a lie. My entire life has been nothing but a fucking novel, a carefully worded book with a clear line between what I should and should not know, as decided by those around me.

  My adoptive parents were staged, right from the start. My uncle is my grandfather, who, as it turns out, is a bit of a pussy who can’t run his family mob business. He needs Anna and me to do it.

  Dmitri was found dead yesterday. Dad called me to tell me, but I suspect Anna killed him. When the police showed up, asking me when was the last time I saw him and did I know of anyone who wanted him dead, I could have sold her out.

  I should have sold her out. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  So now I’m faced with another dilemma.

  I have a meeting with Assistant Director Lomax tomorrow, and I have to decide which way I’m going to go.

  I know if I tell him about Anna and Ben, my entire family will be implicated and investigated. I’ll likely lose my job. It’ll ruin my career and my life forever.

  If I don’t tell him, then I’m allowing a serial killer to continue her work, giving her immunity from the law.

  I sit back in my chair and stare at Natalia’s photo. The three of us look so much alike, there’s absolutely no denying we’re family. I never really saw it until I studied Anna’s features the night she came to my parents’ house.

  I don’t know what to feel anymore. From what I’m told, Natalia was nothing short of a selfish bitch. A woman who took what she wanted and cared for no one but herself. She abandoned Anna in the hospital and left, turning to drugs and prostitution. She had me, I was born addicted to heroin and again, she left.

  In my mind, I had built her up as a victim. I thought she gave me up to do the right thing, because she couldn’t take care of me properly. But now, I look at the picture and don’t see a victim any longer; now I see a tornado. She destroyed the lives of everyone around her for her own selfish pleasure.

  How could I feel anything but hurt, betrayal, and disgust for this woman who bore me?

  How can I still want to send her killer to jail, to seek justice for her? Is the good in me becoming corrupt because I no longer want to prosecute her killer?

  I pick the photo up and stare at it for a moment longer. The anger in me burns away any affection I may ever have had for her. I tear the photo in half, and my heart skips a beat as I do it.

  Overlapping the two sections, I tear at it again.

  And again, until it’s not even a memory, a reminder of the mistake I’ve made.

  Wherever Natalia is right now is where she deserves to be.

  But this brings me back to Anna.

  What do I do?

  She could have killed me when she came to the house. I wasn’t stupid enough to think, even for a split second, I could take her on and win.

  Even ignoring the fact she was armed and I wasn’t, I’ve heard all the stories about her.

  I’m not egotistical enough to think I could have stood a chance. There’s no way in hell I would’ve survived it.

  So I sat, and I listened, and I took it all in.

  Now, I’m confused.

  Anna is intelligent, cunning, and very shrewd. If I was to turn her in, I’d have to coordinate a pretense of some sort to capture her.

  She called me sister, so she may want to build some sort of a relationship with me. And that could be my in.

  But I’m just not sure I can do it.

  She is my sister, and she was totally honest with me. Fact is, she was the only person in my life to care about telling me the truth. She had no reason to care. If I reacted badly, she could have eliminated me. Hell, she could’ve killed me just because, but she didn’t.

  But this isn’t a ‘you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’ situation. We are two people on complete opposite ends of the spectrum. I’m a cop and she’s a killer, we just happen to be sisters.

  I’ve got a difficult decision to make. One I can’t talk over with my father, because I suspect he’ll urge me not to say a word about any of it.

  There’s no right decision to make here. I just have to decide who to hurt.

  Do I remain quiet and allow Anna to continue her work?

  Or do I tell the FBI and ruin the lives of my family?

  Either choice is wrong.

  And either choice is right.

  I’ll make my decision when I walk into that meeting tomorrow.

  Five Years Later

  “Daddy, daddy, daddy, you promised to take me to the beach before we open Christmas presents,” Michael says as he bounces on our bed. The morning light streams through the French doors into our bedroom.

  I can hear the call of the ocean as I snuggle further under the thin blanket covering our bodies.

  “Come on, buddy. Let’s leave Mom to sleep in a bit. We’ll go down to the beach for a while before we come back for breakfast and Christmas presents,” Ben says as he flings the covers back and gets out of bed.

  Michael, our four-year-old son, is already running off to his room to get changed into his swimming trunks.

  “Morning, baby girl, Merry Christmas,” Ben says as he sits on the edge of the bed and leans down to kiss my forehead.

  “Good morning. Don’t take too long. I’ll get breakfast ready while you two have a swim.”

  “I love you.” He leans down again and kisses me once more before standing. He drops his pajama pants before pulling on his swim trunks.

  Hmmm, sexy, tight ass. Yum. Merry Christmas Anna!

  Ben and Michael leave through the side door of our quaint, beachside home. I watch them through the French doors. Ben grabs Michael and dunks him in the water.

  I get up and head into the kitchen to switch on the coffeemaker.

  Although I still can’t cook, I can make pancakes and toast. Not much else, so thank God Ben can throw together a mean meal, or we’d be living on take out.

  The last five years have been a huge change for us. As I expected, Henchman killed Dmitri because he threatened Ophelia.

  That was what I counted on when I saw how possessive and protective he was of her when Ben and I ambushed them.

  Ophelia’s and my relationship is still somewhat strained. Michael and I go to meet her a couple of times throughout the year, and she’s always fantastic with him. But I think she continues to struggle with who I am and the fact she’s still an FBI agent.

  We’ve never talked about Dmitri or how his death occurred. She’s never menti
oned it and I’ve steered clear of that conversation. Only because I know her father will do whatever he can to protect her, and I don’t want her to think badly of him. If she suspects I killed Dmitri, then I’m happy to keep that secret until the day I die.

  Ben and Emily still run their arms business, though Emily heads it up now with Thomas. Ben supports them. She’s taken the business and turned it into one of the largest worldwide.

  She also replaced Agent with someone new, a woman she found who’s a computer geek. I must admit, I was skeptical to start with, but she has proved to be a very worthy employee. Her name is…

  Well, names don’t really matter.

  What she’s done has saved Ben and me from getting arrested more than once.

  I have a dedicated number that if it rings, I know we have ten minutes to leave.

  She also knows I’ll come out of hiding and become 15 again for nothing less than five million. And I now only take on three, possibly four, hits a year. However, if Ben and Emily need me, well, they are family, after all.

  We never found Claire’s body after the explosion, but the five of us gave her a proper burial. Jeremy, her husband, told us she wanted to be laid to rest beside their parents. We paid big money to have a private, proper burial albeit with an empty casket, at twilight, and we all said our final goodbyes.

  For the last three years, we’ve been living on an island off the coast of Australia. The heat and humidity is unbearable, but the isolation is welcome. The locals are friendly, and we keep to ourselves, only going into town when we need supplies. We’ve simplified our lives, taken it right back to basics and make do with life at its least complicated.

  The culture here is laid back and unpretentious, the perfect way to live our humble life.

  I start pouring the batter onto the griddle and watch as bubbles come through the pancake mixture while I sip my morning coffee.

  I hear little giggles and big laughs outside as Ben and Michael happily play while they walk up toward the house.

  “I’m gonna eat twenty-five pancakes,” Michael says, rubbing his belly while walking through the back door.