Targeted Risk (R.I.S.C. Book 7)

by Anna Blakely

  The thought was like a steel-covered toe to the nuts.

  But...if she was with someone else—as crushing as the idea was—then maybe, just maybe, he could move the fuck on.

  The longer he laid there, the more tempting the idea became. Finally, after spending the night tossing and turning, Mike threw off the covers and grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

  Several rings later, a very groggy Derek answered the call. “Someone had better be dyin’.”

  “It’s me.” Mike drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I need your help.”

  ****

  Chapter 2

  Juliet Farrow held the two swatches of material up toward the light. “I can’t decide between the inky blue or the vermillion red. What do you think?”

  Lydia’s only response was to roll onto her back and stretch.

  “Thanks a lot.” Juliet smiled as she bent over to scratch her cat’s belly. “You’re such a big help.”

  In response, the gray and white feline purred loudly with each stroke.

  “Fine. I’ll choose the color for the curtains later. You hungry?” The cat let out a tiny meow. “Me, too. Come on.”

  Relaxing like a wet noodle, Lydia allowed Juliet to pick her up and carry her into the kitchen. As they went, Juliet let her eyes wander around the townhouse she’d been renting for a little over a year.

  With its contemporary style and private rooftop veranda, the renovated space was nice. But even after all this time, it still didn’t feel like home.

  Has anyplace ever felt like that to you?

  When she was a young girl, maybe. But once she started getting older and was able to recognize when her parents were fighting or upset, her childhood home had felt more like a prison.

  After she and her mother left, they’d rented a small apartment near Kansas City. A far cry from the million-dollar estate her father had built before she was born.

  There was one time in her life—what felt like a lifetime ago—when Juliet had felt at home. But it wasn’t the house that had made her feel that way. It was the man she’d begun sharing it with.

  Jay had made her feel at home. He’d made her feel...whole.

  “Nope.” Juliet scratched Lydia behind her ears. “I’m not going there.”

  With her chin jutted out and her shoulders straight, she went to the cabinet nearest Lydia’s dish and pulled out the bag of cat food. Once her food and water had been replenished, Juliet went in search of her own dinner.

  Opening the refrigerator, she stared unimpressively at the foam container on the middle shelf. She thought of the frozen pizza in her freezer. “Which sounds better, Lydia? Leftover takeout or—”

  Something creaked above her head, cutting through Juliet’s words. Frozen, she held her breath and waited.

  Though the townhouse had been completely renovated prior to her moving in, the bones of the place were still original, as were the hardwood floors. She’d learned early on which places creaked when stepped upon, and one of those spots was upstairs, in her bedroom.

  Right above where she was standing, now.

  “Did you hear that?” Juliet looked down at Lydia. The cat had stopped eating and her tiny ears had perked up. “Yeah. You heard it, too, didn’t you?”

  Her heartrate picked up its pace. The neighborhood was a quiet one on the outskirts of the city. Virtually no crime and very little traffic. Both major selling points when Juliet had first decided to relocate to Houston.

  Still, low crime didn’t mean no crime. As a single woman living alone, she couldn’t take any chances. Especially one with a family as screwed up as hers.

  If she’d learned anything from her vile father, it had been to trust her instincts...and no one else. She’d forgotten that rule only once, and the price of that lesson had been her heart.

  Closing the stainless-steel door, Juliet slowly stepped away from the refrigerator. She picked up Lydia, as much for comfort as to protect her sweet cat and went for a small drawer nestled in the room’s large island.

  Doing her best to move silently, she pulled the drawer open and reached for the Kel-Tech PF-9 pistol she kept hidden there for protection. Another lesson she’d learned from her mob boss father...always be prepared.

  And prepared, she was.

  Along with the nine-millimeter gun gripped tightly in her hand, there were three additional pistols, a shotgun, and several knives hidden around her place. And she knew how to use each and every one.

  Sliding the drawer closed, Juliet waited and listened. At first, there was nothing, which made her think maybe she’d imagined the eerie sound. But when she heard the creak a second time, she knew she hadn’t.

  With her heartbeat rushing through her ears, she slowly made her way out of the kitchen and to the winding staircase. Most women would probably take their cat and run, dialing nine-one-one as they fled to safety.

  Juliet wasn’t most women.

  In her socked feet, she was able to climb the steps without making a sound. She moved quickly, hoping to reach the top of the stairs before whoever had been stupid enough to break in came out of her bedroom. Thankfully, she did.

  Steadily holding the gun in front of her with one hand, Lydia lay curled in the other, nestling her head against Juliet’s neck. Keeping her breathing steady and her footfalls silent, Juliet stopped to the side of her bedroom door and waited.

  After several of the longest seconds of her life, a shadow appeared on the floor in front of the doorway. Her pulse spiked, and it became harder to breathe. If she’d had any doubts before, there were none present now. Someone else was in her home, and they most definitely had not been invited.

  Halting her shallow breaths, Juliet swallowed back her fear and began to count down in her head. Three...two...

  Dressed all in black—including his stocking cap and leather gloves—the masked man exited her room. During the seconds that followed, several things happened all at once.

  Juliet yelled at him to freeze. The man started to reach for her. Lydia flew out of her arms, leaping straight toward the intruder’s face.

  Growling, the man ripped the cat from his mask and tossed her roughly to the side. Lydia landed on her feet then took off down the stairs in a dead sprint. At the same time, Juliet secured her weapon in her fist and took a step forward.

  “Make another move and I will pull this trigger.”

  “Go ahead.” Dark eyes stared back into hers. “There are more like me just waiting in the wind.”

  What?

  Juliet’s heart pounded against her ribs. “Who sent you?”

  “You know who.”

  “Pretend I’m not that clever.”

  The man released a low chuckle. “Payback’s a bitch, little Volkov. And so are you.”

  Before she could react, the man’s hand shot out lightning fast. Grabbing her gun, she managed to get off one shot before he ripped it from her grasp.

  Splinters flew from where the bullet hit the bannister’s thick railing. A loud ringing filled Juliet’s ears, but she ignored it and kept fighting.

  Lunging forward, she kneed the jerk square in the balls then wrapped her fingers around the meaty hand still holding her gun. Remembering what she’d learned, Juliet used her own body’s weight to throw the man off balance. They fell against the bannister, her body twisting together with his in an effort to regain control of the gun.

  The gun that just fell through the railings and down the stairs.

  Shit!

  Assuming the guy brought his own weapon, Juliet wasted no time pushing herself off of him and running for her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her, she locked it as quickly as her trembling fingers would allow and ran for the French doors leading out onto her private rooftop veranda.

  On her way, she stopped and grabbed the Glock she kept in her nightstand. Since it didn’t have a safety, she kept that one there so she wouldn’t have to waste even the half-second it would take to disengage before shooting.

  Becaus
e those were the things one thought about after having grown up with a father who was a leader in organized crime.

  Her mother, may she rest in peace, buried her head in the sand. For the first several years of her life, Juliet had, too. At first, it was because she didn’t know any better. Then it was because she didn’t want to know.

  Later, during one of her secret visits with her father in Vegas, Juliet had no choice but to see the truth. Kind of hard not to when you witness the brutal abduction of a young, naïve stripper with your father standing idly by giving the orders. She’d never forget the smile the bastard had on his face when it was over.

  Her bedroom door shook as the intruder slammed his body against it. Juliet yanked open one of the twin French doors and ran out onto the roof to hide. A total horror film chick move, but at this point, her options were limited.

  The gun in her bedroom was the closest weapon from where she’d been. The veranda had a small alcove where she could conceal herself while she tried to regroup.

  While she prepared to take a human life.

  The sound of wood splintering let her know he’d made it into her room. The thumping of his heavy footsteps told her he was coming for her.

  Juliet’s chest physically hurt as her heart did its best to pound itself to freedom. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, knowing her next actions would change her life forever.

  “Dumb bitch.” The man laughed. “Where the fuck you think you’re gonna go?”

  It’s not where I’m going, asshole. You’re the one about to leave...for good.

  With her eyes wide open, Juliet slid her finger to the trigger and waited.

  “I know you’re back there, Little Volkov. Figured your daddy would’ve taught you better than to run onto a fucking roof to hide.”

  So she hadn’t heard him wrong earlier. He’d used her given name. Her father’s name.

  “My daddy taught me a lot of things, asshole,” Juliet hollered back. “Like how to shoot.”

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she jumped out from behind the narrow wall, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger.

  The man’s entire body jerked. With help from the moonlight, Juliet could see his eyes widening with surprise through the oval slits in the woven mask.

  “You...bitch.” He dropped to his knees and clutched his chest. “Fuckin’ shot...me.”

  “And I’ll do it again if you don’t stay down.” Her words came out surprisingly steady, despite feeling as if she would fall apart at the seams.

  It seemed the warning was unnecessary, for less than ten seconds later, the man had collapsed onto his back. Eyes closed. Chest not moving.

  Ohmygod!

  Juliet’s breathing increased, but just before she could go into a full panic mode, she reminded herself of what needed to be done.

  Call the police. Tell them you shot an intruder.

  With her gun pointed at the dead man’s head, she stepped in a wide girth around his body, turning so she could walk backward into her bedroom. Keeping an eye on the unmoving form, she made her way over to her nightstand and picked up the landline phone.

  Dialing nine-one-one, Juliet forced herself to speak as she relayed to the operator the horrific events that had just taken place inside her home. Once the operator learned of the intruder’s fate, she instructed her to stay inside and wait for authorities to arrive.

  Most women would probably run outside, getting as far away from the corpse as possible. But again, Juliet wasn’t most women.

  Another lesson from Daddy...never make assumptions. Especially in a high-risk situation.

  After ending the call, Juliet hung up the phone and went back outside. Chest still heaving, body fighting to regain control of itself, she watched the intruder wearily as she approached him.

  He was so still, almost like a statue. But he wasn’t a statue...he was a human being. One who was currently bleeding all over her private oasis. A man who’d just died by her hands.

  Oh, god.

  A rush of burning bile hit the base of her throat, but Juliet swallowed it down. Sirens blared from somewhere in the distance, their screams getting louder and louder the closer they became.

  She stared down at the masked face. A sudden need to know who he was and why he’d come after her was overwhelming.

  Juliet knew she shouldn’t touch him. That removing the mask could potentially be considered tampering with evidence. She didn’t care.

  I have to know.

  Trembling legs carried her closer to the dead body. The gun in her hand quivered, despite her efforts to the contrary. Still, Juliet pushed herself on.

  I have to know who he is. I have to know why he came after me.

  Standing mere inches away, she bent down. Careful not to step in the growing pool of blood, she shifted the gun to her left hand and reached for the mask with her right.

  Pinching the ends of the soft, black wool between her fingertips, she lifted the mask up and over the man’s chin, revealing an unremarkable mouth and jaw. Still shaking, she started to raise the material over the man’s nose when the unthinkable happened.

  The man moved.

  In one fluid motion, he grabbed hold of her wrist with one hand, yanking her fingers away from the mask, while at the same time, he pushed her body backward with his other.

  Crying out from both shock and fear, Juliet fell onto the roof’s hard surface with a painful thud. Blood dripped onto her chest as her very-much-alive attacker hovered over her, the barrel of her gun now pointing at her head.

  “Please,” she heard herself beg. “At least tell me why you’re doing this.”

  “Why does anyone do anything?” The man grimaced in pain. “Money, sweetheart. And your father?” His exposed lips curled into an evil sneer. “He has a helluva lot to spare.”

  “M-my father? Are you saying...my father hired you to k-kill me?”

  “You’re surprised?” He chuckled then coughed. “What kind of daughter turns on her old man like that, anyway?”

  Juliet shook her head with a frantic denial. “I didn’t—”

  “Shut up!” He pushed the gun closer to her head. “If you ask me, you’ve had this coming for a while.”

  “Good thing no one asked you.”

  Juliet heard his voice a split second before the retort of gunfire filled the night air.

  ****

  Chapter 3

  “Jules!”

  Mike ran to where Juliet lay trapped beneath the man who’d damn near killed her. After calling Derek the night before to ask him to find Juliet for him, the guy had taken all of twenty minutes to track her down and call him back with an address...in Houston.

  He couldn’t believe it when Derek had called him with the news. For the past year and a half, Juliet had been right there, within his reach. All those nights he’d spent dreaming about her and wondering where she’d ended up, and she’d been three fucking hours away.

  So he’d driven here, to the address Derek had given him. And then, like a coward, he’d sat in his car and waited.

  For hours, he contemplated whether or not he should even walk up the townhome’s steps. He went back and forth between what he should say and how he should say it. Played scenario after scenario of what she’d say and how she might react to seeing him again.

  Before Mike knew it, the sky was turning dark, and he’d wasted the entire day sitting outside her house trying to get up the nerve to go talk to her. So he’d sucked it up and gotten out of his car. He’d barely made it across the street when he heard the first gunshot.

  If he’d waited any longer...if he’d been ten seconds later...

  “Get him...off of...me.”

  Her voice brought him back to the present.

  “Juliet?”

  When he got to her, she was struggling to push herself free. Filling his fists with the back of the asshole’s shirt, Mike lifted the man’s dead weight—literally— off of her and tossed him to the side.

  With blo
od splattered and smeared all down her front, Juliet looked up at him with eyes as wide as saucers.

  “Are you hurt?” he blurted as he held his hand out for her to take. “Did he hurt you?”

  Rather than accept the help he was offering, Juliet slowly began to push herself to her feet. The wariness in her eyes seemed to seep down through the rest of her body.

  “Baby, you’re scaring me. Say something. Please.”

  “J-Jay?”

  Shit. When he’d first gotten here, he had full intentions of telling her the truth. All of it. But seeing as how she’d been seconds away from being murdered in cold blood, Mike didn’t think now was the time to drop that particular bomb.

  “Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

  One second, she was staring back at him as if he were a stranger. The next, she was flying into his arms.

  “Oh, my God!” She squeezed him tightly. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

  He couldn’t believe he was, either.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you, now. You’re okay.”

  They stood like that for a full minute, holding onto one another as if neither ever wanted to let go. God, it felt good to have her in his arms again, even if it was under such fucked up circumstances.

  “He was g-going to k-kill me.” Her entire body shook against his.

  “I know, baby. But he didn’t.”

  Because I killed the motherfucker before he had the chance.

  Still trembling, Juliet pulled away just enough to look up at him. “Wh-what are you...why are you—”

  “Houston PD!” someone shouted from behind him. “Slowly step away from each other and put your hands in the air!”

  Juliet’s eyes shot up to his.

  Mike let out a low curse. “Do as they say, honey.”

  “What?” She stepped out of his reach and around him in order to speak to the cop. “Wait, I’m the one who—”

  “Get your hands in the air!”

  Jumping at the man’s fierce order, Juliet threw her hands high in the air. “M-my name is Juliet Farrow,” she told the officer quickly. “This is my home. I called you because that man”—she pointed to the asshole bleeding all over her veranda—"broke in here and tried to kill me.”