Page 28 of Ruinous Need
“Irrelevant. At some point, you agreed. Or your father agreed for you. And now you’re his.”
Viktor’s voice hisses on this last word, those black eyes burning into me like smoldering coals. He’s standing over me, the lines of tension on his face close to snapping. Unbound rage comes off him in waves.
On instinct, I stumble back until I’m against the wall.
He nods once, his jaw tight. “Yes. You should fear me, Lisette. Remember that.”
He turns on his heel and walks back to the door, slamming it behind him as he leaves me alone in the apartment.
I stop speaking to him.
I refuse to care whether or not he’s home.
He won’t answer my questions, anyway. Instead, I resolve to focus my energy on escaping.
“You’re not talking to me now?” He questions me the next morning at breakfast. Maybe it’s more of an observation. I’m resisting the urge to reply.
I purse my lips and continue the crossword.
“Good. That’s wise.” But his dark brows drop as he lowers his gaze to his plate of food, his face closing down in something like disappointment.
CHAPTER 10
VIKTOR
I NEED TO cure myself of this unhealthy obsession.
Before it kills us both.
I may have developed a habit. Pulling up the video feed of Lisette in the apartment. Watching her clear the lounge furniture away so she can dance. She seems to enjoy herself in my absence. Luring Merc and Ben in to talk to her with freshly cooked meals.
I need to keep tabs on her for security, of course. Do I need the feed of her bedroom running while I fall asleep? That’s debatable.
I don’t think she’s figured out that the windows are smart glass with embedded cameras. She did a few searches, initially looking inside every corner as though she was expecting to find a standard CCTV camera. It’s not the 90s anymore, sweetheart. That’s what I’ll say to her. If she asks.
“What are you looking at?” Markov asks me with narrowed eyes.
I jolt out of the feed, where Lisette is bending down into a graceful stretch. The SUV is stationary. We’re no longer driving. And Markov has definitely seen what I was studying on thetablet.
I swipe the tablet clear. “Security protocols,” I say under my breath. “Back at the apartment. I got an alert.”
He doesn’t comment, but I know he’s too smart to buy such half-assed bullshit. I don’t need Markov’s approval, but I do feel a hint of panic that he’s going to report my erratic behavior before I finish my mission.
“You should probably revise the house plans. We don’t want you distracted.”
I bristle at his implication but swallow it down. He’s right. I shouldn’t walk into this job without a full understanding of what we’re up against.
Another swipe and I’m looking at the plans of the house along with our file of faces we’re likely to encounter. We’re on shaky ground over this side of the city — the Argentinian cartel will either welcome us in for a beer or shoot first and ask questions later. I’m hoping it’s the latter. I don’t want to have to smile and play nice when all I want is one piece of information.
I will not get it wrong, even if it means wiping their entire cartel out of the city. This could be the final piece of the puzzle so we can track him down.
Yuri Petrov. The former council member who’s supposedly hiding out down in Argentina, on a ranch.
He was second in command to the former Pakhan. If I get him… We’re close.
We’re way out in the suburbs, looking at a nondescript stucco house. It could be a family home, if it wasn’t for the constant stream of men with slicked back hair and expensive sports cars coming and going.
Their security protocols aren’t great, or they would have laid eyes on us. Black bulletproof SUVs might be commonplace in some parts of New York but out here? We stick out like a sore thumb.
