Page 34 of Angelic Vengeance

He slowly glanced down at my hands on his chest, and when he looked back up, I met his gaze. It was so intense it knocked the fucking logic out of me. Mindlessly, I ran oneof my hands to the back of his neck, running my fingers through his short hair and scratching his nape with my long stilettos.

His body remained unbothered; not even attempting to touch me. He was using my own behavior against me – non-reaction. His only tell was his eyes. Every look, glance and stare against my skin, set me onfire.

Stepping closer, I placed my other hand on his neck too. His warmth enveloped my body, and I honestly couldn’t tell which one of us was burning more.

I swallowed my pride.

And then I did what I sworenotto do just a few minutes ago: I said his name.

“Zach…” I began softly. Something dangerous sparked in his eyes. Part of me hated the way his name left my lips so naturally. “Don’t leave me to deal with your mess.”

He scoffed, looking over my head, and tried pushing me away.

I pulled him right back, pressing myself against his hard, warm abs.

His dark eyes locked on mine again as he ran his tongue over his teeth; still refusing to touch me.

“If you help me,” I continued. “I will go on that date with you.”

Zach remained silent, and for a moment I thought he would deny me.

“How can I trust anything you say?”

I opened my mouth to give a reasonable answer, but nothing came out. There was not a single reason why he should trust me. I’d never done anything but lie to him. An aching guilt spread through my chest, and I swallowed hard before a knot could have the chance to form in my throat. “You can’t.”

He watched me for several moments, and I allowed my eyes to melt into his own dark pools of ink.Onlyfor a fraction of a second.Onlyto appear convincing.

With a small shake of his head, a low breath escaped him. “A’ight.”

We were so close I felt it more than I heard it. I forced myself to not squeeze my thighs together and instead ignore the heat between my legs.

I knew I had him when he took his phone out and began dialing.

What I didn’t know, was that he had me too.

CHAPTER 12

17 years old

CODE NAMEANGEL. TWENTY-NINE confirmed kills. Accurate to 1,300 meters with an M24. At seventeen, I was one of the youngest U.S. Federal Agents. I had completed eight months of training, and it’d been over a year since I’d joined the force. I was quickly moving up the lower ranks for a teenager, gathering recognition and appreciation from my superiors.

As I was still considered a minor in the eyes of the State, I wasn’t currently being paid or considered an official agent. However, my compensations were transferred into an account I could access at the age of twenty-one. Judging by the way work was currently going, I was going to land myself a pretty sum of money.

The harsh Russian wind whipped at my face as I pulled the vintage fur coat tighter against my body. The luxurious material kept my body warm, yet nothing could fully block out the cold of an Easter European winter. After flying with ease through my latest assignments in Shanghai, Berlin and Colombia, I was finally in Moscow to complete the last one of the year.

As Christmas was in a few days, the city was lit up with festive ornaments and decorations, the streets full of people doing last-minute shopping. Although knee-deep snow was plowed out of the way of the sidewalks, snowflakes fell rapidly from the dark sky and settled on the pavement.

Shaking the snow off the long fur coat, I entered the St. Regis – Moscow’s most prestigious hotel and second home to some of the most powerful and influential Slavic people.

The moment I stepped inside, I zoned in on the target. Tonight’s unlucky winner was Mob Underboss, Sergei Kuznetsov – two-timing ex-informant for the U.S. Government, and secret rat of the Bratva Criminal Organization.

My stilettos clicked against the rare Calacatta marble floors as I advanced through the parlor. Red silk curtains dropped from the tall ceilings supported by pillars encrusted with gold designs. Diamond chandeliers illuminated the salon as a live band played soft Christmas Jazz for the hotel guests. While businessmen drank Leon Verres’ Billionaire Vodka at the bar, elderly aristocrat ladies sipped from their bone-china teacups in the lounge.

The entire scene was like something out of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. Russian elites, over-the-top yet elegant atmosphere, and royal treatment. Money, sex, murder, affairs and secrets.

Throughout the night, I remained unnoticed in the sea of billionaires, observing while hiding in plain sight, before sneaking off to the roof. From there, I would have a clean shot to Kuznetsov’s private balcony.

The biting wind howled, threatening to freeze the marrow in my bones, as I waited in the shadows. It wasn’tlong before Kuznetsov came into view, getting into his balcony hot tub.

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