Page 100 of Jewel of the Assassin
With a firm nod, Roman locks eyes with me and says, “Anton and my father may know our location.”
A cold wave strikes my chest. “How?”
He sighs and rubs a hand down his face. The elevator stops on the basement level. “Sasha. He and your father met with Anton shortly after the crash.”
“Did Anton cause the crash?” I ask as the doors open.
Roman shakes his head. “No, but he knows you are the greatest chink in my armor.”
“Why now? After two years?
He leads me down a dark hall with concrete walls. “I cannot tell you that, Valya. I destroyed the tracker I found injected under Sasha’s skin.” My eyes turn wide, but Roman goes on, “It was small enough. All he would have felt was a prick. But the winter season affords us more protection. Much riskier to get here by boat or plane. And this island is equipped with the best security money can buy.”
I smirk, thinking of a certain day, stepping on a landmine. “You don’t say.”
He rolls his eyes and urges me around the corner. “I also have radar scramblers. By the time the weather turns in their favor, I will have dealt with Anton and my father.”
My blood chills. “What do you mean by that?” I don’t want him anywhere near those demons.
He pauses before the next corner, firmly cups my chin, and searches my eyes. No, he hunts my eyes. “I will deal with it, Valentina. I will protect you.”
“Fine.” I ball my hands into fists and glower. “But you have to promise me you will protect yourself, too.”
He smiles before leaning in to kiss my forehead. “As my Queen commands.”
The next corner opens into an underground shooting range. My breath catches at the concrete walls, dim lighting, and the faint, lingering scent of gunpowder. Rows of paper targets hang at the far end, riddled with old bullet holes. Others are cruciform metal T-frames and steel plate target walls.
“Impressive,” I say while entering one of the booths.
“You will be far more impressed with my skills, Moya Samotsvet,” he practically purrs behind me.
Setting one hand on my hip, I turn with a knowing smile. “I would expect nothing less, Moya Korona.”
“Your knife skills are exceptional,” he teases, folding his hands behind his back and lowering his head toward me. “I am quite eager to learn if your gun adeptness will match.”
I grin. “Let’s find out.”
34
“Smiley face?” I growl. “Smiley face, my ass.”
ROMAN
Ifire.
Bullseye.
Of course it is. I’m at the top of my game—steady hands, breath held, perfect control. Years of training. The sound echoes in the chamber, and I savor the familiar scent of gunpowder.
I hit the switch to bring Valentina’s target forward.
And my vision turnsred.
She’s laughing, giggling while covering her perfect mouth.
There it is. Her fifth damn target. Five. Not just bullseyes. Not just clean kills. No—a fucking smiley face. Shot perfectly into the center of the paper man’s skull. Two eyes. A curved mouth. A fuckingcheeky grinstaring me down.
She twirls. And then—like she’s in a damn movie—she blows across the barrel. A Makarov pistol.
