Page 9 of Dangerous Secrets

“I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. I don’t need you, or Micah or Soren following me around anymore. I’m not a child.” I take a few steps and he calls out to me.

“Micah and Soren wouldn’t be here, and you know it. Their loyalty to Mickey has been clear from the beginning—”

“As has mine!” I spin around to glare at him. “So, stop questioning me and get behind me, not in my way. Back off, Tony, or you’re going to regret it.”

Tony raises his hands in surrender and takes a step back, his eyes never leaving mine. I can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. But I refuse to back down. I won't let Tony or anyone else stand in my way. I turn on my heel and continue down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the pavement. The city is alive around me, the sounds and smells of New York filling my senses. And yet, I can't shake the feeling that I'm being observed.

I glance over my shoulder and see Tony still standing there, watching me. I can feel the weight of his stare on my back, but I don't stop. I can't. I have work to do. And I have too much on my mind now.

As I walk down the sidewalk, I can't help but think about Roman Gusev and the way he made my body feel. The memory of his touch sends shivers down my spine. I know that I shouldn't be thinking about him like this, but I can't help it. There's something about him that's just too irresistible. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I have a job to do, and I can't let my feelings get in the way. But I have—I am.

The sound of my heels clicking against the pavement is the only thing keeping me sane as I walk the busy sidewalk. I'm surrounded by people, yet I feel so alone. The weight of what I'm tasked with doing is bearing down on me, making me feel vulnerable and exposed. I reach into my purse and pull out a pack of cigarettes along with a lighter. As I light up, I take a deep drag and feel the smoke fill my lungs. It's a bad habit, but right now, I need it to calm my nerves. I lean against a nearby building, taking in my surroundings. The city is an endless maze of concrete and steel, and it's easy to get lost in its chaos. But I don't let it overwhelm me. I'm a professional, and I know what I'm doing.

I exhale a cloud of smoke and check my watch. I have about an hour before I have to be at the club. The thought of seeing Rome there tonight sends my heart racing. I know that I shouldn't be feeling this way, but I can't help it. There's just something about him that draws me in. I take another drag of my cigarette, trying to calm my nerves. I need to focus on the task at hand. If I'm going to do what Mickey wants, I can't let my emotions get in the way. I toss the cigarette onto the ground and crush it under my heel. Time to get to work, and that work starts with me carving Roman Gusev out of my thoughts.

The streets are crowded, and I have to weave my way through. Finally, I see a small, quaint café on the corner of the street. It's just what I need to clear my head and shake off the unwanted thoughts. I push open the door, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits me. It's a cozy place, with soft lighting and a few customers scattered around the tables. I make my way to the counter and order a cappuccino.

As I wait for my drink, I notice a handsome man sitting alone at a table. He's reading a book, and his eyes are focused intently on the pages. Why can't I be drawn to a normal man like that? One who works an honest job, who wants a quiet life to raise two children—a boy and a girl—and owns a golden retriever and lives in Scarsdale? Why must I be drawn to the bad boys and thugs?

The barista plops the frothy cup into my hand, and I can't help but smile at the cute little heart he's drawn in the foam. I lift the cup to my lips and take a sip. The drink's smoothness coats my tongue, melting in my mouth with a hint of hazelnut. The paper cup is hot in my hands as I sink into a booth and lay my clutch on the table, inside which is all the evidence needed to put me away for life. The compact dart gun and two poison-laced darts could have taken out Rome's entire group this time.

So why can't I do it?

Why have I allowed myself to grow emotionally attached to my enemy? I'm supposed to be killing him. Not falling for him.

I take another sip of my cappuccino, trying to shake off the unwanted feelings. I know what I have to do, but it's easier said than done. I've been working as a trained killer for years, and I've never let emotions get in the way of my job. But there's something about Rome that makes me want to protect him instead of killing him.

I glance over at the man reading his book. He looks up and catches my eye, giving me a small smile before returning to his novel. He's not my type, but something about his calm demeanor and simple life is appealing. Maybe it's time for me to leave this life of crime behind and start anew.

But before I can even contemplate it, my phone rings. It's Mickey, and I know what he wants. I answer the call and hear his gruff voice on the other end.

"Did you get the job done?" he asks.

I hesitate for a moment before responding, "No, I haven't done it yet."

"What the hell is going on?" Mickey growls. "You know how important this is. Roman Gusev needs to be eliminated, along with his brothers."

"I know," I reply, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on me.

"I'll get it done. I just need a little more time."

"You've had enough time," Mickey snaps. "You either do it now, or we find someone else who will."

I hang up the phone, feeling my heart racing. I know what I have to do, but the thought of killing Rome makes me sick to my stomach. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I can't do it.

I grab my clutch and coffee and rise, heading for the door. I’ve gotten myself into bigger pickles before, but this one could prove the deadliest.

Soon, I’m lost in the sea of faces as I fall in step with the crowd on the sidewalk again. This constant warring inside myself between what I’m tasked with and what I want is making me overthink everything. I feel nauseous and tired. I want to soak in a hot bath and push the world away until I have time to think straight. The logical side of me says to just follow Mickey’s orders—take out the whole family and be done with it. But there is a small voice in my heart screaming at me that Roman Gusev is the one… He completes me in a way I haven’t yet discovered.

I’m second-guessing myself all the time now, doubting and obsessing. It isn’t like me. Maybe Tony’s right. Maybe I’m growing weak and it’s all because of Rome. Or maybe it’s some game he’s playing. Maybe he’s out for me too, ordered to kill me but toying with me like a game of cat and mouse.

I toss the coffee cup and turn toward the club. All of them have gotten in my head, Tony, Mickey, and Rome. If I don’t take some time to think things through soon, I’ll make rash decisions and that’s never good.

7

ROME

It’s been a rough week. Watching Dimitri’s lifeless body be carted away by the cleaners we hire to fix our messes was tough. He didn’t deserve that—to be poisoned and his life taken from him. It messed Alex up too, swears he sees Dimitri’s ghost at night begging him to avenge his death. I think that’s nonsense—a sign of a weak man. But I can’t shake the feeling that Dimitri is waiting for vengeance. I would be if I were the one to have taken the poison dart.

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