Prime Target (11 page)

“Roman,” she warns, looking around, but happiness is apparent on her face. “Our food is coming.”

As our dinner is placed on the table, I dip my head in acknowledgement of Everly’s unspoken wishes. “I’ll eat now.”

“My red face thanks you,” she says, and I can’t help but smile.

Across the street, Viktor appears suddenly, his white-blond hair hard to miss, and sits with Sebastian and Vladimir.

I nearly choke on my potato dumpling.
Tell them
, I want to shout. But Viktor will not. Like me, he is nothing but an instrument of destruction and once set into motion, nothing can stop him. Except for my grandfather. He’s my only hope.

“Roman? Are you okay?” Everly asks.

I turn my attention to her. Concern is etched on her face. I am not okay. I’m fucking furious at this helpless feeling that has invaded my body, but there’s nothing I can do right now. Except lie.

Forcing a smile, I say, “I’m thinking of tonight. Of whether or not I should tie you to the bed or simply fuck you against the door. You’ll have to be quiet, or everyone will hear you scream. The doors aren’t soundproof.” That is not a lie. I have been thinking about being inside of her again, but it was in the back of my mind.

Her eyes widen, and then she glances away. “How about both?”

“Can you be very quiet, Everly?” I ask, warming up to this sort of distraction.

“I don’t know,” she says, peering at me through her lashes. “I’ve never tried before.”

“Looks like I’m tying you to the bed, then.”

“Are you going to be so…” Her throat works. “…
honest
during our entire trip?”

Acid coats my insides. I’ve never been completely honest with her, but in this…I can be. “Yes.”

She blows out a breath. “Good.”

“You’re not offended?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

Everly rolls her eyes in that playful way I’ve come to recognize. “Yes, I’m completely offended that a gorgeous, hot man with a killer body wants to sex me up one side and down the other. Someone get me a marker and a sign, stat, because protests are in order.”

I can’t hide my smile.

“Are you smiling again?” she asks in mock surprise. “I’m not sure what to think. What happened to my very starchy bookseller?”

She means this as a compliment, and I know she likes the stuffy side of me, too. “He
is
on vacation, yes?”

Everly laughs, digging into her dinner once more. I finish my meal, pay the check, and then usher her out of the bistro.

We walk along the riverbank, on stones older than any American city, and stop every so often to buy clothes in shops that catch her eye. Everly seems to love it—her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are sparkling.

This isn’t the first time I’ve walked these very steps, but it is the first time I’ve done so holding a woman’s hand. Every now and again, she squeezes mine, as if to comfort me.

I nearly punch myself. Of course she’s worried and wants to comfort me, I’ve all but told her my grandfather is dying. I haven’t been thinking of him; I’ve been trying to solve the problem of my current assignment and coming up short.

Then again, I’ve never been asked to kill a close relative before, and an innocent one at that. I’m barely existing in a gray area, with a woman who’s firmly living in color.

“Who’s taking care of your cat?” Everly suddenly asks.

“The cat takes care of herself,” I point out. Perhaps one day, the cat will like Everly. The damned thing should, especially in light of Everly’s concern for her.

“But someone will need to make sure she has plenty of water and food, even though she can go in and out as she pleases.”

I stop Everly and turn her to face me. “The cat is being well taken care of by Mrs. Tatum. I made arrangements before we left the States.”

Her eyes search my face. “I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t take care of an animal.”

“You were just being concerned.”

She smiles. “Yes. Exactly.”

“A concerned jerk,” I say lightly and she gasps, punching me in the arm. I fake a groan.

“That is not nice, Roman Smith.” We start walking again and she lays her head against my shoulder.

Pulling out her cell, she holds it up. “Let’s take a picture together.”

Uneasy at the thought of my image being Instagrammed or Facebooked or—dear God—Tweeted, I grow stiff. “What do you plan to do with it?”

“Send it to my parents and my best friend, Elle,” she says, lowering the phone. Her smile disappears. “You don’t have to take one with me. Solo selfies are fine.”

I rub the bridge of my nose. “I’m not opposed to taking a picture with you, but I’d rather not have it plastered all over social media. I enjoy my privacy.” Actually, I rather enjoy breathing. My heart is fond of beating as well.

“I swear, Roman.” She shakes her head, clearly exasperated. “That’s all you had to say. Remember what I told you before? I’d never ask you to embarrass yourself for me.”

Grabbing her chin, I gently pull it up. “I am not embarrassed to be with you or take a picture with you. That was not my intention when I expressed my dislike of social media.” I search her face, willing her to understand all that I can’t share. “I know I’m not the most gregarious bloke, or even the most charming, but I—”

“I understand,” she says softly, and I blink.

“You do?”

“Yes.” She tilts her head to one side. “You’re shy and an introvert. That’s okay. I’m outgoing enough for the both of us.”

She thinks I’m shy and an introvert?
Good God.
I want to set her straight, but I can’t take away the pleased look on her face. She thinks she’s figured me out.

“Is it that obvious?” I say. Taking the phone, I hold it up and pull her against me. The sun is setting behind us, making dangerous shadows and a beautiful sky. I snap a few pictures of us, before handing it back to her.

She worries her bottom lip as she goes through them. A small frown appears.

“Did I manage to miss us completely?”

“No, you managed to capture some guy with a pissed off look on his face. Stupid photo bomber.” She holds up the phone so I can see the screen.

My gut clenches and my blood begins to boil. It’s Petrov.

M
y hand immediately
goes to the gun I’ve hidden at my back as I pivot. Petrov is headed our way, murder on his face.

“Ugh. The light was perfect. Maybe I can Photoshop him out,” Everly muses, oblivious.

Think, Roman, think.
How do I keep her safe without showing her who I really am? Before, I never had to worry about another. Despite being a part of the
Bratva
and having more family than—as Everly would say—I could shake a stick at, I have always been solitary.

Petrov’s long legs eat up the distance between us. I look around for something—anything—that could serve as a distraction for my would-be assassin or my lover.

I spy a Swarovski crystal shop. “Love, didn’t you say you wanted to buy your mother and best friend a present from there?”

“Yes!” Everly tucks her phone into her coat pocket. “You might want to stay here. I take forever picking out presents. It’s a curse all Andrews women suffer from.”

I’m too damn concerned and anxious for her to be on her way to appreciate her humor, but I manage to give her a wink and say, “Enjoy yourself. There’s a business call I need to make anyway.”

She gives me a fleeting kiss, and then sets off in the direction of the store. I try to keep one eye on her and another on the man only steps away from us. Starting for him, I cut across the crowd of tourists and slip into the shadows. It’s not fully shielded from their eyes, but it will have to do.

“Nikolai, you fucking pussy,” he spits out once he reaches me. “How many lives do you have left?” There is a scar on the outer corner of his eye, pulling at his skin—a visible reminder of our last fight. He appears to be weaponless, but I know better. Besides, knowing what I do of him, he wants this to be personal. He’ll use a knife instead of a gun.

Everly enters the shop, and the door closes behind her.

Now, I am able to fully concentrate on the lunatic in front of me. “Been in a fight recently?” I ask pleasantly, palming my gun. Nothing enrages him more than being perceived as a non-threat. A man fighting with only anger to guide him rarely wins.

“How you managed to live is beyond me,” he says. “Who’s the woman?”

My mind reels. He has to know who she is, unless… Fuck, he must not be the one who’s put a hit on my half-brother. “New target.” Or she will be if I don’t find a way to get out of this mess I’m in.

Obviously stunned, Petrov cocks his head to one side. “She doesn’t look like your usual mark.”

“She’s in the way.”

“Welcome to the dark side, Nikolai. Too bad you won’t be staying long.”

Petrov lunges, a wicked blade catching the light as it slices through the air. I turn just in time, and the knife cuts through my coat instead of my flesh. Using his forward momentum against him, I kick Petrov in the gut, sending him stumbling backward. A surge of satisfaction rises when his breath leaves him on a whooshed-out groan.

Unfortunately, he manages to stay on his feet, winded but ready for more.

I reach for my gun.

His eyes narrow over a menacing grin, a new gold tooth flashing. “You won’t use it. No silencer.”

From my pocket, I pull out a silencer and screw it on, then aim at his head. “You were saying?”

“You think too much,” Petrov says as he whips out a gun and takes aim.

I’m faster. My bullet leaves the chamber with a muted bang before his finger squeezes the trigger, leaving a small, black hole in the center of his forehead.

“You talk too much.”

His eyes widen as he falls sideways. I wait for the light to dim in his eyes, and then kick him over the edge of the walkway. The river carries away the evidence of my crime.

There isn’t an ounce of regret for killing him, not even with my unanswered questions. He was a horrible human being who killed for the thrill of it—the right payout provided, of course.

I take a deep breath and wait for the gun to cool before I return it to its hiding place. When I was just a lad, I’d not waited, and the metal had burned like hell. My lower back still bears a small scar from it.

But this won’t scar me like the others. I feel nothing but satisfaction as I walk away from the riverfront.

So much for being a changed man.

M
y hands are
clean, and the gun is safely hidden by the time Everly exits the shop. I flex my fingers, eyeing the black tattoos that are inked onto my skin.

Well, my hands are
mostly
clean.

She swings a bag as she walks, her cheerful mood a beacon in the crowd. “I’m done,” she sings out.

Normally, this kind of attention would be unwelcome, but I am too jubilant at the thought of Petrov being eliminated. Everly is safe from him.

I start in her direction, intent upon taking her back to the hotel and making good on my promise to order room service desserts. Memories of this morning crowd their way to the forefront of my mind. My hands on her body, spreading her thighs, and holding her wrists prisoner. How she tasted on my tongue. The sounds she made when she came apart in my arms.

My stomach roils. I can’t touch her, much less have sex with her. I’ve just killed a man. I glance at my hands once more, and they’re stained with blood instead of ink.

I pivot and stride away, fighting the bile that threatens to rise.

“Roman?” Everly calls out, her quickening footsteps growing closer as she follows me. “Wait up!”

I slow to allow her to catch up, but only because I can’t leave her behind. Not only would I be leaving her to the wolves, but she’s in a foreign country and can’t speak the language. I doubt she could name our hotel.

With a forced lightness, I turn my attention to her, acting as though I’m happy to have found her at last and not running away. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

She nearly bumps into me. “You have? But I’ve been in the same shop the entire time.”

I shrug, feeling ridiculous. “Perhaps you were hidden from me.”

“I guess.” Giving me an uncertain smile, she asks, “Why didn’t you stop when I called your name?”

“I didn’t hear you,” I say firmly. “I was lost in my head.”

“Your grandfather?”

“Yes, he’s doing much better.” My phone vibrates and I pull it out, noting a new text from Viktor/Victoria. I shoot off a reply, letting him know Petrov is dead by my hand.

Everly’s lips twist. “Must be
so
hard talking to Victoria.”

“What?”

“You know,
Victoria
—the woman who just had to get something from you while we were on our date. Otherwise known as coitus interruptus.”

“Are you jealous of Victoria?” I ask, though I suspect the answer is yes. However, if Everly were ever to find out Victoria’s true identity as Viktor, then she wouldn’t be so put out.

“No,” she says quickly. A little too quickly.

“I think you are.”

“Well,
I
think it’s ungentlemanly of you to say so,” she says primly, turning up her nose. “Anyway, I’m ready to go back to our hotel.”

For some reason, her reprimand spurs me into action. I don’t give a damn about not being worthy to touch her. I
have
to touch her. I need her.

Without saying a word, I crowd her into a dark alley. “Roman!” she says, looking around. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Showing you how ungentlemanly I can be.” I cup her face with both hands and slant my mouth over hers, forcing my tongue inside. I lick and taste and take from her, until she responds in kind.

I grind against her, showing her how hard she makes me, as one of her legs wraps around my hip. My hand leaves her face to slide down her neck and then over one breast. I palm it, rubbing my thumb over her already hard nipple.

“Wait,” she says, breathless. “I can’t, not in public.”

“As you wish,” I say, and then kiss her again. I force away the urgency I feel, the need to take her here and now. I trace the outline of her top lip, then slip my tongue inside her mouth once more to twine with hers. My body goes harder than ever before, like steel being forged for battle.