Page 66 of Assassin: Part 1

“Or the Bratva Butcher,” Oleg offers, speaking up from his spot by the window, face hard and cold.

The room goes silent. “Why the fuck would the Bratva Butcher want our plane? He’s probably got a whole fleet of them,” Zakhar argues.

“He was involved with Timur in the shit with Mila; he knows we’re going to be looking at him and Timur very closely now. What better way to distract us than by sending a hot woman after Ilya?”

“It could also explain why she always looks so different,” Zakhar agrees, glancing warily at me. “If she’s working with him, she can’t risk being identified, right?”

“So my fucking assassin theory could be right.” I hear the slight smugness in his tone, which I ignore.

“None of it makes sense that she would work with him. The Bratva Butcher isn’t going to send someone to seduce me. If he wants me out of the way, he’s going to kill me straight out. Sending a woman for something like this, that’s to gain information, and she’s not getting anything out of me. She doesn’t ask me any questions, not even carefully disguised about our operations or what we’re doing. Besides, if she was working with the Butcher, why would she be going after pedophiles? If he’s involved in half the shit that’s going on, then they would be part of his customer base.”

That gives them pause. “Yeah, assassins don’t exactly discriminate about who they kill,” Zakhar agrees. “So why the fuck would she steal the plane?”

“She had to get out of here, and she knew we’d be looking for her. Maybe she thought we would figure out where she was going and this was her best option? I mean, why the hell would we look for her in our own hangar?” I reason.

“And if she took that video in the bedroom on the plane, then she’s not flying it. Which means she has someone helping her.” Oleg looks at Leonid. “Tell your team to search every fucking pixel of the security footage you have. Look again to see if someone else on those cameras is setting off the distraction. Anything that could point us in a direction of where to find her or the plane.”

“Yes, sir.” He pulls up another screen and furiously types.

“This fucking woman…” Zakhar pins me with a serious, cold stare. “This needs to stop, Ilya. We find her and that plane. I don’t give a fuck if she’s got your dick wrapped in knots, we need to deal with her. And by we, I mean Oleg and me. You need to stay the hell away from her. She’s escalating, and if we’re wrong and she is working with someone, you might not get lucky the next time.”

I hate that he’s right, that I’ve been so damn weak.

Son of a bitch, I’m an idiot.

“If we find her, then she’s all yours.” It slashes at my chest to say the words, but my head tells me it’s the right choice. When it comes to this woman, I can’t be trusted. Ever. She’s messed with my head one too many times.

Zakhar doesn’t look completely convinced, but he lets it drop.

“Uh, Pakhan, I think there’s something else in the message to you,” Leonid announces. We all turn to look at him, and he swallows hard under the weight of our stares. “Ah, when I was looking at the message and tracing its origins, there’s a series of numbers in the IP address that I think is a phone number.”

I still. “What?”

“Ah, yeah. I think whoever this girl is, she uploaded the video from her phone, and that left the number in the address. If she’s using the Wi-Fi on the plane, it will tag it.” He types away, and more screens I don’t understand pop up as he works. “I can triangulate it, and if it’s on, I can pinpoint where the plane might be.”

“How long?”

“Two minutes.”

My lisichka has finally made a mistake. I try to quell my excitement.

It’s a long, tense two minutes, but finally, Leonid nods and grunts loudly in his throat. “Got it. The plane is flying over the East Coast if she’s on it, and since the location tracking is moving, I’d say it’s a safe bet. I can’t pinpoint where exactly she is without going super in depth, and by then, she’ll have moved to another one anyway. She’s got it pinging off different towers in different states. She’s good, but I don’t think she’s that good. The phone’s on too if you want to call it.”

After a couple more clicks, there on the screen, clear as day, is a phone number.

Her phone number.

Why do I feel like this is some kind of trap? While also feeling an unhealthy need to call her and hear her voice one more time?

Damn it.

Refusing to second-guess myself, I dial the number and wait. The entire room is silent as the phone takes a few long seconds to connect before it rings.

“Pet, if I knew you would be trying to see me again so soon, I’d have given you better clues to get my number sooner.” Her voice practically purrs through the line, and the sound of it shoots straight to my balls.

I’m going to blame her effect on me for my reaction, but I don’t bother holding back my fury.

“You stole my fucking plane, lisichka,” I bark. Leonid wheels away from me in the chair, and Zakhar and Oleg smirk. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? First, you try to burn me alive, and now you’re stealing my shit? I know you’re fucking nuts, so I’m not sure why I’m surprised.”