Page 104 of Blind Devotion
I looked up at Jerome. He shrugged. “Feasible.”
The sun was going to rise in the next three hours. We didn’t have much time before the halls were busy with traffic.
“Layout?”
“It’s a duplex suite. I’ll send you the blueprints.”
“How much time do you need to create our decoy?”
“A few hours at least.”
“You have one.”
“That’s not enough, boss. He’ll just be a cardboard cutout by then.”
“Flesh him out later. I need the basics up and running with a hit request submitted into Endgame so that he can withstand a preliminary inspection in the next hour. You have until Rurik’s body is discovered to make him authentic.”
He huffed with exasperation across the line. “As you say, boss. But please bring me back any electronics you find on them. I want to know how they got into our system.”
“Good thinking,” I said before cutting the line. I tossed Michel his phone back.
Erel chuckled. “Looks like we’re going hunting.”
I nodded, my lips curling. No one hurt my woman and got away with it. Only one little hour to wait.
Chapter 42
RurikLeontyevwasnota man lacking in audacity. The bastard lay comfortably on a memory foam bed in the same hotel asma tigresse, one floor down. I’d be insulted by his boldness had I not already planned to kill him.
One of Franc’s techs worked the hotel security videos, while Jerome, Michel, and Erel handled the Russian guards. I dealt with Leontyev.
He looked like shit, as he should, recovering from two bullet wounds—one in his thigh, one in his shoulder. His skin tone almost matched his clean-cut gray beard. For someone his size, the injuries made him look frail and paltry.
I relaxed in the sofa chair I dragged over to his bedside and waited, scrunching my nose from the smell of antiseptics and blood and fluid oozing from his wounds. I wanted the man to look me in the eyes when I shot him.
It didn’t take long. Men like us felt the angel of death in our bones whenever it got too close. His eyes flashed open, and his head shifted to face me. Even with the blackout curtains shut, Icould still make out their color—black and heartless, just like the part of my soul not guarded by Persetta.
“I knew you’d come,” he rasped in his heavily accented English. “You know what this will mean?”
“It won’t come to that.”
He chuckled and winced. “You are as arrogant as they say.”
I leaned forward. “No. I’m simply prepared. Your vors will have no proof of who to chase. A hit against you was requested and registered through Endgame. Two million. I happened to accept the request, but no one will ever know that. There can be no reprisals.”
“They’ll trace it. They’ll want to make sure.”
“They’ll find exactly what I want them to find. If any of them bother, they’ll be chasing their tails for years. My teams are very efficient.” I attached the silencer to my favorite semi-automatic tactical handgun. “No war will start. Your Bratva will continue without you, and Persetta will live.”
“Chtob u tebya hui vo lbu vyros,” he spat.
“No idea what that means, but it sounds vile.”
He lurched for the nightstand and opened the drawer, breathing hard and wincing. I didn’t move as he removed the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Click. Click. Click. I smirked as he sulked back against his pillow, wheezing, and tossed the unloaded gun on the bed.
“You are good. I will give you that.”
I nodded. I wasn’t here to be humbled.
