Page 23 of Assassin: Part 1

“She’s someone with deep pockets or an excellent hacker that even we can’t track. Or she’s got the connections for all these things. We just have to figure out the commonality.” Oleg looks at me. “And I need anything you can give me. Looks, smell, whatever you can.”

“Her height has changed every time. As has her hair, eye color, and scent. It’s never the same.”

An easy glance. “Someone who can change their appearance that easily isn’t anyone with good intentions, Ilya,” Zakhar warns. “If she’s an assassin, she’s gotten close to you, and she’ll know how to find your weaknesses now. She knows what works. And you’ve fucked her, which means she knows how to get under your skin.” He holds up a hand when I snarl at him. “I’m not dragging you for it, because let’s be real, you needed to get laid, and any time we’ve seen her, she’s fucking hot. But you’re vulnerable.

“She could be sent to kill you and is testing how close she can get to you. Assassins are patient. Or if she isn’t one, then she’s working for someone who has a very good long game and isn’t afraid to wait until the exact moment they’re ready to strike. Send a beautiful woman to lower your guard? It’s classic, but everyone knows you’re fucking careful with women. One, maybe two times, and then they’re done. Same with the escorts. That one tonight, this was her last shot, and she knew it. She was going to try to seduce you. Maybe they were working together?”

“No.” Again, those words echo. “Tiffany was terrified of her, and this woman made no bones about how she wanted me to kill her for trying to assert some kind of control over me.”

“Fuck, Ilya, she sounds fucking insane. A stalker or some shit.” Oleg’s lips thin, jaw clenching.

“She’s too fucking good for a run-of-the-mill stalker, Oleg,” Zakhar argues.

“Think about it. The only time she’s been seen has been when it’s been connected to Ilya. She met him when she rescued Mila.” He ignores Zakhar’s sharp curse at the reminder. Oleg looks at me. “Then she shows up when Abram and that cunt from the cartel were running that trafficking operation through our operation. Now she’s showing up at your club when you have an escort with you. She’s escalating, Ilya. You need to be fucking careful.”

On the surface, I can see what he’s getting at, but it still doesn’t sound right.

“I’ve had escorts and other women in my life since I first met her, and tonight is the night she decides to show up?” I ask.

“She’s probably been watching, and her jealousy finally spilled over,” Zakhar reasons. “I mean, who knows with women, man? They don’t make sense on a good day. Maybe it was this one, and she thought you were going to actually do something with her, and she couldn’t stand the thought?”

“Perhaps. But if she wanted Tiffany out of the way, why not kill her herself? She certainly has no qualms killing people.” The images of what she did to that pig who took Mila flash in my mind.

Definitely no qualms. Hell, I’m still impressed, and I’ve seen it all.

“Maybe she’s not an assassin, but she could be a vigilante,” Oleg offers. “Think about it. The people she’s killed are pedophiles. She’s not killing innocent people. So her not killing Tiffany isn’t off script for her. She’ll leave that kind of dirty work to us.”

“But she killed our men,” Zakhar reminds him, eyes narrowed.

“I think that was more of a situational thing,” Oleg reasons. “She didn’t kill you or me when we were there at the warehouse. Or any of the other guards.” He looks back at me. “If she is a vigilante, then there’s a very real possibility we’re looking at someone who’s not right in the head, Ilya. You need to be fucking careful. She shows up again, you can’t let her suck you into whatever she’s planning.”

“This is gonna end up like one of those true crime shows Mila’s always trying to watch,” Zakhar grumbles. “Those obsessive fucking stalkers that end up killing their obsession for doing something they don’t like? Or realizing that the obsession was a mistake. I have no desire to be Pakhan, and I’m going to be fucking pissed if you get your throat slit.”

“She hasn’t killed me yet, and I don’t get the feeling she wants to.”

“Yet being the keyword there. Find any weird shit around your office or bedroom? Anything moved or that wasn’t there before?” Zakhar chuckles, but the seriousness in his gaze can’t be mistaken.

“Nothing’s off, and there’s no way she’s getting into our house without one of us knowing. Even with disguises, I’d know she was there.” Of that, I’m certain. Whenever she’s around, my skin buzzes.

I fucking hate it, but if the woman is going to try to kill me eventually, I’ll take the warning system.

“Even so, I’m doing another sweep of the house and all cars. I’m also increasing your guards until I’m sure she’s not following you,” Oleg states. “And no fucking arguing, Ilya. She won’t know about the others, but I’m not taking any chances. This woman is delusional, and she already got too close to you once. I hope the sex was fucking good, because for the foreseeable future, that’s the only pussy you’re getting until I can verify the next one you fuck isn’t going to kill you.”

The car falls into silence.

I don’t bother arguing or pointing out I’m the Pakhan and he would do well to remember that. The rational part of me knows he’s right.

Whoever this woman is, she’s gotten too close. She’s proven the weaknesses in my organization. That ends now.

The only problem? I can still fucking taste her and smell her on my beard. And I want another fucking taste, even if it does end with a knife to the heart.

Wait … knife.

“She had the same knife with her,” I say, making both of them turn to me. “She pulled the knife, and it was the exact same one she held to my throat the first time. Black leather-wrapped handle, with a slightly curved blade. There was some kind of design in the guard, but I couldn’t make it out. It was fucking sharp, and you can tell she takes very good care of it. I haven’t seen a design like it before. Either she made it herself or had someone do it for her.”

“Craftsmanship like that wouldn’t be cheap or easy to find,” Oleg agrees, the wheels turning in his head. He looks at Zakhar. “I’ll have the IT guys get to work on trying to find images of her with the blade and see if we can identify it or at least figure out who might have made it.”

Zakhar nods. “I’ll put a call out to our people we use for our blades and see if anyone might know about it.”