"What risks? Killing Alexsandr?" Sergei spits again, only this time some of the liquid hangs on the side of his mouth. He looks unkempt, like a beggar pulled from the streets.
The mention of Alexsandr kills my humor at Sergei's situation. I begin to pace, knowing that I shouldn't show my agitation to Sergei but doing so anyway. "You knew that Harry was diseased and that your transplant source was selling organs from alcoholics and drug addicts and HIV patients. You knew you were supplying bad krokodil to your own people and killing them. These are the acts of a stupid man, unfit to lead."
"Is that what they tell you? Alexsandr thinks the Bratva business too dirty for us. Perhaps, he says, we should not do some of these things anymore. Alexsandr shows me he is too weak to be the enforcer of the Bratva," Sergei tries to sneer, but the lax control over his muscles make him look as if he is seizing.
"You have no sense of brotherhood," I scoff. "Alexsandr would not more betray the Bratva than he would cut off his own cock, but you kill him because he talks reason that you do not want to hear. Then you endanger everyone by taking Daisy." I stoop in front of him and point the empty gun in his face. "Daisy needs to see you die so that in the night, when it is dark, she can know that she does not need to be afraid."
"Where will you be?"
"Beside her." Holding her hand and helping her pull the trigger, I think.
"And you are not enough man to take her virginity, let alone her fear."
Sergei has no taunts that can touch me, but I tape his mouth shut because I am tired of hearing his drivel. I pull up my tracking program and wait.
DAISY
I WATCH DANIEL WITH WARINESS as he pulls into the parking lot of the hotel. It's quiet, and there's no one around, but I don't trust this man. How can I trust anyone ever again? Everyone has lied to me.
Even Nick. It's his lie that hurts the most, honestly. It feels like I never really knew him, after all this.
When the car stops, I don't move. I wait with bated breath to see what this new man will do. He tells me he's working with Nikolai to bring down the Bratva leader, but I don't know that I can trust him or what he tells me.
After all, Nick was Nick Anders to me. He is not Nikolai, Bratva hitman.
Daniel comes to the side door of the car and opens it to let me out. I leave the car, every muscle in my body screaming caution. He sees my tension and leans in. "I'm taking you to Nikolai, little girl. It's not in your best interest to run. You have nowhere to go."
He's right, but it doesn't stop the thought from crossing my mind and lingering there. I don't respond to this, only raise my tied wrists.
He pulls out a knife, and I wait…
But he only slices through my bonds. "Come on," he says. "Stay behind me and keep quiet. We're going in the back way."
Daniel takes me to a service elevator in the parking garage and then into a back door. We cut through a kitchen, an empty hallway, and then through what looks like a laundry room as we make our way inside. We pass people in staff uniforms, but they deliberately avoid making eye contact with us. It's like they see my bruised face and the dangerous man I am with, and they want to pretend we do not exist. It's probably easier that way; I don't blame them.
Then, we are in another elevator, a staff one. Daniel pushes a button and waits at my side, his stance wary. I cannot help but look at the perfect hang of his jacket, wondering where the gun is. I wonder if I can grab it before he breaks my wrist.
And then what?
Fight my way into the hotel? Tell the manager that I have been kidnapped?
And…then what? Will they take me back to the States, or will they call the authorities? What if the men I am running from are the authorities?
I'm so confused, so cornered. I clench my hands and wait for instinct to kick in. Instinct will tell me what to do.
The elevator dings, announcing that we've arrived at our floor. "Come on," Daniel says, and he puts a hand to my shoulder.
I flinch away, skittering backward a step. "Don't touch me."
"Sorry," he says, and he raises his hands in the air to show me he means no harm. "Let's go, before Nikolai decides we're taking too long and kills Vasily."
My heart goes cold at his casually tossed off words. Let's go before Nikolai kills Vasily. Like he would do it in a fit of spite. My Nick.
Daniel walks two steps behind me—probably so he can watch my movements in case I bolt—and he shepherds me down the hall to a hotel room door. 786. It's the last one down the hall, and it offers a modicum of privacy from the other rooms. Once at the door, Daniel knocks once, then three times rapidly, then once again.
It's a pattern I'm familiar with. Didn't my father and I have our own system of knocks and acknowledgments to let the other know it was safe? The door opens immediately on the other side, and there is Nick, who gathers me into his arms. I catch a glimpse of him. He looks tired, stiff…furious. His arms are trembling around me as if he can barely hold on to his control and an animalistic sound escapes his throat. I sag into him, feeling safe even though I know it's ridiculous to feel safe here in the arms of a man who kills people for a living.
Some semblance of sense creeps in, and I push out of Nick's arms.
He grabs me before I can retreat from his anger, and his hands capture my face. His eyes are wild as he surveys my swollen nose and my bruised eyes, but his fingers are careful as he traces over my injuries. After a long, tense moment, he lifts my hand and examines it carefully. He pauses at the bruises circling my wrists, but he seems satisfied that I have all my fingers.
Then, before I can say anything, he whips out a gun and points it at Daniel's forehead.
Everyone in the room freezes.
"Nikolai," Daniel says warningly. His expression hasn't changed. "You know we're in this together."
"You let them hurt her," Nick growls. "You let them touch my Daisy."
"What were we supposed to do? Cuddle her in front of Sergei and Yury?" Daniel's voice is flat, unafraid. It's almost like he's daring Nick to shoot him. "Use your brain, dipshit. She has all her fingers. She was not raped. She is fine."
Nick is breathing hard, and his face is flushed with rage. The hand holding the gun aloft trembles, and I realize he's struggling to keep control.
Daniel's gaze flicks to me, and I realize he wants me to speak up and say something.
"Nick, you're scaring me." I don't have to fake the tremble in my voice; I'm utterly terrified at this moment.
It's my voice that breaks through his mindless rage. The gun lowers and goes back into the holster in his jacket.
And then Nick turns to me and his hands cup my face again. "Daisy," he groans, and he leans in to kiss me. It's a gentle kiss, mindful of my split lip. "My sweet Daisy."
I can't relax in his grip this time, even when he pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me. All I can think is that this man is an assassin and that he nearly killed a man just now. All because he thought Daniel hurt me. He would kill over bruises and a split lip.
I wonder what else Nick has killed over.
He seems to sense that I am not returning his hug, that I am shrinking away from his touch. He takes a step backward, and those intense eyes study me, full of hope and longing and relief.
"You are not hurt?"
I shake my head. I'm not hurt, not really. I'm bruised, I'm terrified, and I'm feeling so betrayed, but I'm not hurt. "Where's Regan?"
"No one knows. We find her, but later. Other things are more important right now." His hand reaches out as if he wants to touch me again, but he drops it just as quickly.
"I hate to break up this sweet little reunion," Daniel says in that droll, utterly American voice. "But where's Sergei?"
"In other room."
"Still alive," Daniel says, and I can tell by the way he says it that he's not pleased.
"Da. Revenge is for Daisy alone. This, I give to her." Out comes Nick's gun again, and he offers it to me, handle first. "It is only for her."
&nbs
p; Daniel mutters a very American curse.
Nick shoots him a furious look.
I stare at the gun being offered to me and then at Nick. Nick, who I thought I knew. "You…want me to go in there and kill someone?"
"Is not someone," Nick says, and his accent grows thicker, a sure sign he is agitated. He takes my hand and puts it on the gun, forcing it into my grasp. "It is the fucker who took you from me. Who has stolen Regan. I give you revenge so you can sleep at night."
"Nick," I cry, wanting to release the gun, but his fingers are wrapped around mine. "I'm not going to murder someone."
"Let her go, man," Daniel says in a low voice. "She's not like us. Look at her. She's terrified of you."
It's as if Nick is seeing me for the first time when Daniel says that. It's like it's just now occurred to him that I won't like the idea of killing Sergei. It's like he's just now realized there's more to my reluctance than fear from being kidnapped.
I watch the light in Nick's eyes die slowly as he sees the way I hold myself back, the way I regard him with fear. I watch the hope in them—the terrible, awful love in them—wither away. Now, there is nothing but sadness as he regards me. Sadness and yearning.
"So," he says, and his voice is so cold, so even, so calm. "Sergei has told you who I am, da? And now you are afraid of me."
"You're a hitman," I say. "You all murder for money." The words taste vile in my mouth. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"And what would I say to you, little Daisy?" There is so much pain in his voice. So much self-loathing. "That I want to kiss you and make love to you even though I am not worthy of your smallest attentions? Far better to say nothing. It is easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission."
I shake my head. This is a nightmare. This is all a nightmare. I want to go home and wake up in my bed, curled up against Nick's side, Regan asleep in the other room. I want things to be like they were when my eyes weren't opened to the truth.
But I can't go back to that. And now that I know the reality of who—and what—Nick is, I want to laugh at myself for not seeing it before. There's a predatory grace in every motion that he makes. His eyes are cold at times, calculating. He handles guns like he was born to them. He's covered in strange, dangerous-looking tattoos. He grew up in a family of coworkers who are 'not good' by his own admission. He's wealthy and pays for things with cash. He rents cars and lives in apartments across the street so he can watch people.
And he watches me. He's always showing up at the right moment.
It's so obvious, so chokingly obvious, that I feel stupid.
Nick's hand drops away from mine so quickly that I have no choice but to clutch at the gun he's left in my grasp. It's like his eyes are begging me to see him on the inside, past the trappings, but my mind is too bruised and unhappy at the moment to see anything but the fact that Nick is not who I thought he was.
His hand reaches up to brush my cheek, and when I flinch away, he flinches in return. "I knew I could not keep you," he says. His voice is hoarse with emotion. "Such a beautiful, innocent soul. I just wanted you for as long as I could have you. I knew it was wrong, and I did not care. Someday, I hope you forgive me."
Tears cloud my eyes, but I'm still trembling, still holding on to that gun.
"Sergei is yours to do with as you please," he tells me. "Whatever you choose, I understand. But I know something about monsters." Nick clears his throat and swallows. The Adam's apple is prominent in his throat, and I can't look away from it—from him.
"If you do not dispatch the monster that harms you, he will rise again and again in your dreams and you can never feel safe. Every day of your life, you will look around the corner and wonder if it is him. When you come home at night, you will fear the dark spaces of your rooms. Small things like your closet will become a place of terror. I save Sergei for you so that you can hold the metal in your hands and feel the power of the bullet and see the evidence firsthand of his death. That way you sleep at night and go out into the day without fear." He tips my chin up so we can stare into each other's eyes. "See the truth in my eyes and know I do this for you."
The truth of his words ring in my ears. He speaks of my father's life and maybe his own. I do know he does this for me even if I don't understand all of it; I know that Nick's statements to me are the truth. If he is capable of love, he loves me, and he doesn't want me to be afraid.
His hand cups my cheek and holds it tenderly. "But whatever you decide, kitten, I will support you."
Daniel makes a sound of protest in his throat, but Nick shoots him a furious look, and he goes silent. Nick turns back to me, and there is silent pleading for understanding in his eyes, but he nods. "It is your choice, Daisy. You hold his life in your hands, and I will honor your wishes."
"Even if I let him go?"
"Da, even that."
I wouldn't, though. I'd turn him over to the police so they can enact justice. That is the smart thing to do. But it's good to know that even now, I am in control. I nod at Nick.
He just watches me, heart in his eyes.
I swallow hard. I want him to take the gun back, but I suspect that if I offer it to him, it will be the end of everything. Nick will take it back and disappear out of my life as silently as he entered it.
And I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet. So I clutch the gun in my hand.
NIKOLAI
I HAVE FUCKED THIS UP.
Daisy is looking at me like I am no better than Moscow sewer rats. Like I am not better than Sergei. Daisy needs food and to rest, not to be forced into killing a man. Her body is trembling, and while her hand is clutched around the gun I've given her, she looks like a leaf could fell her.
I retrieve the gun from her hand. She resists at first, making a small sound of protest. Thankfully, she allows me to rest an arm around her shoulders. Carefully I direct her toward the sofa where she collapses.
"Rest for a moment Daisy. We talk later."
A soft, low sob escapes her, and it rips through me. Biting my cheek to corral my anger toward Sergei, I lay a blanket over her body. The warmth of the blanket and perhaps the enveloping comfort of the sofa allows Daisy to relax. Kneeling beside her, I stroke her brow and am relieved that she does not flinch from my hand. Whatever she has been through, she still allows me to touch her and she still takes comfort from me. It is enough. If this is all I have from her but she lives safe and happy for a long time, then it is enough.
"Nick, man," I hear Daniel settle into one of the chairs. "You gotta learn to be a little more subtle."
I flick a finger at him but say nothing so as not to bother Daisy. "I'm going to order us some food," I tell her.
"I'll take a steak. Rare." Daniel tosses his dirty boots onto the gold inlaid coffee table. "I like to hear the faint moos when the dome comes off the plate."
Daisy shudders at this statement. "Gross," she mumbles.
I take her participation as a positive sign. As long as she remains willingly with me, it is positive. Even if she no longer loves me, even if she hates me.
"You should leave, Daniel." I tell him, flipping through the room service menu.
"Can't. We've unfinished business." He nods his head toward the room with Sergei, but his wordless gesture is unnecessary. Daisy knows what we talk of.
"Sergei, you mean?" she asks.
"Da." I crouch next to her again. "But we need fuel. Blinis? Meat? Cabbage soup?"
DAISY
I STARE AT HIM IN a daze. Nick is offering me food like we're on vacation. Like it's normal to order room service while we have a kidnapped man sitting in the next room, waiting for me to execute him.
I can't process this. My hands curl and go to my forehead. "Nick…I…"
I don't know what I want to say. There's so much bubbling in my head. Nick wants me to go in the next room and shoot a man. A man who is our enemy. But that's what the bad guys do. They murder and kill.
I've always thought of myself as one of the good guys. But I look over at
Nick and realize that I've fallen for someone who can't be considered one of the 'good guys' by any stretch of the imagination.
He's a killer.
And it's awful, because I still want him. I want to curl up in his arms and have him stroke my hair and mutter Russian endearments to me like everything is going to be okay. His touch has always made things better in the past.
Does it make me bad for wanting him?
He doesn't seem to realize my distress. He's still crouching in front of me, his hands brushing over my shoulders, face looking up into mine.
It's still the same Nick as before, the same possessive touch.
And I suddenly feel…bad for accepting it. I've lusted after a killer all this time.
No, I correct myself. I've lusted after Nick. I knew his job wasn't legal, not exactly. I was fine with him being a computer hacker, but now that I know he's some sort of mafia hitman, I have an issue with it?
The problem is with me—and my brain.
Oddly enough, I think back to the movie we watched together, back at home. It was a movie about superheroes, and I'd gone on and on about how I wanted the bad guys to get their due.
Nick had been offended. Hurt, even. He'd tried to tell me that the bad guys were just doing what they could. That they were making the best out of a bad situation.
I'd thought he was picking a fight with me. But maybe…maybe he was talking about himself.
I'm too quick to judge, I realize. I don't know Nick as well as I thought, but I can't hate him. Not when he's here to rescue me. Not when he's putting his life on the line for mine. Not when he's looking up at me as if the world begins and ends with my smile.
I can't hate Nick. I'm still hopelessly in love with him.
With the bad guy.
I wonder what this makes me.
NIKOLAI
DAISY IS SILENT FOR SO LONG that I worry about her. I caress her arm and repeat my question. "Food? Blinis? Borscht?"
She thinks for a minute, and a tentative smile touches her mouth, as if she seeks to reassure me. "I don't know what those are."
"Blinis are small pancakes served with caviar. Borscht is a beet soup. Is very good," I say, encouraging that smile. I would do anything to have her look happy again.
Last Hit (Hitman) Page 25