Page 7 of Assassin: Part 1

Nothing ever distracts me from my job, and I’m not going to allow him to. I speed up, the brisk wind roaring in my ears and drowning out any thoughts of the man who will never be more than a fantasy.

3

ILYA

TWO WEEKS LATER

“What the fuck do you mean she’s a ghost?” I try to keep my fury in check, but it’s hard, so it comes out curt. My brother and Oleg sit in front of me, neither cowering at my tone. Though, they do share an uneasy glance.

The tightness in my shoulder left behind after recovering from the bullet that had to be surgically removed is a reminder of how eager I am to get my hands on her.

Few get one over on me, but she managed. That small scrap of a woman who took my men out with ease. Now, I just have to find her.

The task, even with my resources, is futile. She killed all cameras in and out of the area and didn’t show up anymore in the city or outside it. Not even in any neighboring towns or states.

So, where the fuck did she go?

“She’s a fucking ghost,” Oleg repeats. He runs a tired hand through his short dark hair. Clean-shaven, covered in tattoos, a heavy chain around his neck, and thick rings on his fingers, he’s imposing, which makes him perfect to send on jobs Zakhar and I don’t have time to do. We’ve been friends for years, and he’s one of the only people who is one hundred percent loyal to Zakhar and me.

If he wasn’t, I’d hate to think what that would mean for the rest of us. The man is formidable.

“Our men can find nothing on her. Not even a wisp or an image. Whoever she is, she doesn’t exist. Not even someone that looks like her. Either she’s changed her appearance completely, or she’s an elite hacker that can erase her presence everywhere.”

“And neither option is a good one,” Zakhar adds. “How the fuck are we supposed to track a woman who doesn’t seem to fucking exist?” He jerks his chin at my shoulder. “And how are we going to pay her back for that?”

Older than me by two years, he was assumed to take over the Bratva when our father died, but I’ve always known it would be mine. My brother prefers to be second-in-command. It’s where he’s most comfortable and excels.

Also probably why he annoys the shit out of me at every possible opportunity. I thought it was supposed to be the younger brothers who pulled this shit? Shouldn’t I be the one to annoy him?

Standing at six two, an inch shorter than me, we share the same eye color, black hair, and bone structure in our faces, but that’s where the physical similarities stop. I keep myself fit, but Zakhar has taken it to a whole other level since the death of his wife five years ago. Muscle on muscle, he’s grown so large it’s hard to believe he can find clothes to fit him. It doesn’t make him the fastest man, but he’s one hell of the strongest.

When we spar, the fucker doesn’t pull his punches. I’m still sore from our last bout the other day, not that I’ll ever admit it to him.

“I think we should be grateful she didn’t shoot him in the head. She took out those guards that fast, and he only ended up with a bullet in the shoulder? That’s not luck, that’s purposeful. She wanted to disarm you but not maim you permanently.”

“What, you’re trying to say she did me a favor?” The thought infuriates me more. I’m going to enjoy getting my hands on her. Whoever she is, she has questions to answer, and I’ll pull them all out of her one by one.

I don’t torture women as a general rule, but I’ve made exceptions, and this will be one of those times. No one gets to shoot me and live. It’s a matter of time before we pick up her trail, and when we do, she’s mine.

“I’m saying Zakhar would be in charge right now if she didn’t.” Oleg glances at Zakhar, who scowls. “She killed them in a way it wouldn’t traumatize Mila as much. Quick and clean. Not like she did to that fucker who had her.”

The mention of my niece makes my jaw clench. She’s been through far too much as it is, but she’s made of strong stuff. She took the entire thing in stride and even dared to tell me that if I had let her go, none of it would have happened. Few would dare to speak to me that way. Especially with how angry I was.

That entire situation was one giant clusterfuck to get cleaned up before anyone got wise. Someone got the best of me, and wouldn’t my enemies love to know that? They’re all trying to figure out the best way to take me out, but none have succeeded, and I don’t plan to allow it ever.

Even being out of commission and needing to sit behind this desk, I rule my empire with an iron fist. No one dares to mention my injury, of those who know about it, and to everyone else, I’m simply working on deals and handling some issues closer to home. I have men in place to handle the day-to-day things, leaving me time to do the other shit I’ve been putting off.

Like finding a new school for my niece.

I will never allow her to be taken again. Even if she hates me for it, I’m putting her where she’s safe. Where no one can ever reach her again. Especially until we can figure out how she was grabbed in the first place, and by who. The guards who were supposed to be protecting her are dead, and all the cameras were wiped out, sans one that was too far away to catch anything other than a dark SUV grabbing her after killing the guards.

I’m on the receiving end of that fiery temper of hers now that we’re in the process of enrolling her into a new private boarding school. One I’m having to pay a pretty penny to get into mid-school year. Not to mention all the security she’ll have there, and her own guard, but it’s worth it as long as she’s safe.

She’s declared she hates us, but this is for her own good. Someone took her right from under our noses, and though she’s told us some of what happened, I know she’s not telling us all of it. I won’t allow it to happen again.

She’s upstairs stomping around, packing her things and raging.

I don’t envy Zakhar when he has to fly over there with her. Nine hours of pissed-off preteen? I’ll take being shot in the shoulder over that any day.