Page 14 of Emerald

“I want you to follow Remizov,” I tell Karol. “Don’t get too close. But send me a record of his habits and movements, and anything that might be useful to us—any mistresses, or interests, or dirty little secrets. I want to know where he shops, where he eats, where he gets his hair cut, who he visits, who he fucks. Send it all to me.”

“You got it, boss,” Karol says with a grin.

“And maybe tone down the shoes,” I tell him. “They’re not exactly stealthy.”

Karol looks down at his trainers, which are bright orange and probably cost some obscene amount of money, despite how extraordinarily ugly they are.

“Right,” he says, trying to force his face into seriousness. “Good idea, boss.”

Now I turn to Dominik.

“Once we get our guns back,” I tell him, “we need to make a strike of our own. Remizov hits us, we hit back twice as hard. Find the target.”

Dom slowly nods without speaking. His blue eyes are clear and serious.

The rest of the soldiers are full of energy and excitement. They like making plans. They like taking action. To them, this is almost like a rugby match. Our team has been attacked, and they relish the idea of mounting their own offensive in return.

Dom isn’t thinking about pride and glory. He’s thinking about what the worst-case consequences might be. He’s thoughtful by nature. In another life, he might have been a philosopher instead of a gangster.

But he was born into this family, with me as his brother. So he’ll follow me down this path, no matter what might be at the end of it.

“I’ll find a target,” he promises me.

I nod and clap him on the shoulder.

While my men are busy, I’ll start meeting with the heads of the other houses. I’ll shore up my alliances, and perhaps build bridges where none have been before. I’m not the only one who knows Remizov is a threat.

* * *

5

Sloane

The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.

Sun Tzu

The more I study Ivan Petrov, the more I realize I might have made a terrible mistake in taking this job. He’s going to be extremely difficult to hit. He lives inside a veritable fortress—an old monastery outfitted with every possible piece of modern security. He’s constantly surrounded by his soldiers, particularly his younger brother, who is just as tall and stacked with muscle as Ivan himself.

There aren’t many female assassins for a reason. Despite what movies and TV shows would have you believe, there’s almost no way that a woman can win a fistfight against a man of above-average height and strength. When some ninety-pound actress takes out a beefcake stuntman with one punch, I can only roll my eyes.

My success has always been a result of stealth and the element of surprise. I’m no hero—I take my targets while they’re sick, while they’re sleeping. I poison them, suffocate them, or snipe them from a distance.

I try never to get close enough that it comes down to a fight, because there’s a good chance I’d lose, even with the endless hours of training I received from my father. That’s the unfortunate reality of being 5’9 and 135 lbs.

To kill Ivan Petrov, I’ll probably have to get a lot closer than I’d like. He doesn’t follow a regular schedule or routine. He’s unusually watchful. And he travels around in an armored Hummer that’s basically a tank.

Plus, he’s jumpier than usual because, apparently, he’s in conflict with some other Bratva boss. Details are thin on the ground, but I’ve watched him visiting the heads of various families, plotting alliances for whatever’s about to go down.

I don’t know anything about Bratva rivalries, but I wonder if Petrov’s nemesis is the person who hired me. It would be the quickest way to end the conflict before it even starts.

The Bratva usually dole out violence personally—they’re not afraid to get their hands dirty. So they’re not my typical clients or targets. But I don’t think Petrov’s rival is a typical Bratva. The way people talk about him, he sounds more like a boogeyman.

If he is the one who hired me, it’s all the more reason why I can’t drop this job, much as I might like to. I don’t want the boogeyman after me.

And I couldn’t back out of it anyway—it would destroy my reputation. Once you have the full file, you have to carry out the hit. Or risk having a contract put out on your own head.

I’ve got to do the job, and I’ve got to do it soon.

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