The daughter was cunning, and Mikhail needed to watch his back.The brother and sister weren’t the only ones who wanted him gone.Mikhail had overheard some of Smirnoff’s security guards talking about him and the likelihood that lieutenants in Smirnoff’s business would reject Mikhail’s insertion into the company.
Restless and still in pain, Mikhail reached for the bottle of tablets the doctors had prescribed.Funny, he didn’t recall any of the accident that had laid him out for over a week before he regained consciousness.Smirnoff had told him he’d hit his head hard, which was why he was experiencing head trauma.He was lucky he hadn’t broken any bones and had escaped lightly.It could’ve been much worse.
Mikhail hadn’t liked to mention a tiger now stalked his mind.He swallowed two pills before pulling on jeans and a T-shirt.He’d go outside and wander around the gardens.The fresh air and gentle exercise were the only things that helped the restlessness that plagued him.Maybe he was going mad?Then there was the woman.
The stiff jab of pain to his temple had him squeezing his eyes shut.He gasped, trying to ride the agony gripping his head.The low, furious growl that echoed through his mind didn’t help his battered brain.
Mikhail rose, his foot colliding with a hard object.“Fuck,” he muttered and fumbled for the bedside lamp.He squinted against the surge of brightness and the onset of shooting agony in his head.
Hell, when would his brain return to normal?Even a slight improvement would be a relief.He waited long seconds for the gnawing ache to subside before discovering the object he’d kicked was Bridget’s knife.
He scooped it up and grabbed a hand towel from the en suite to fashion a sheath.Not a bad idea to take the knife with him, given the number of people who wanted him gone from this estate.He made a tie to attach the blade to his belt and walked at a snail’s pace while breathing slowly to regain his equilibrium.
He opened his door and peered down the passage to check he was alone.His wing of the mansion seemed quiet, but he wasn’t about to announce his presence to anyone monitoring his movements.He slipped through the shadows and out a rear door he’d discovered three nights ago.When sleep eluded him each evening, he watched the security guards and memorized their paths as they patrolled the estate gardens.
Mikhail waited until a guard passed the shadowed spot where he lurked.When he could no longer hear the man’s footsteps, he strode rapidly across the night-dappled ground, avoiding the worst of the well-lit areas.To his right, an owl hooted, its mournful cry sending goosebumps across his skin.He paused for another guard to stalk past when he reached the tall pines.The man only gave the area a perfunctory scan.Undoubtedly, he wanted to return to the hut where they took their coffee breaks and played with their phones.They did a shoddy job, but Mikhail didn’t mention this to Konstantine.Once Mikhail took over was soon enough.
He’d spent his wakeful hours during the night clocking them doing their rounds and picking holes in their efficiency.They barely checked the property perimeter, instead keeping close to the house.They never varied their routes nor switched up the times of their rounds.Whoever was in charge didn’t run training or keep watch over his subordinates.
Mikhail enjoyed the challenge of switching between different tasks in his organization.It was the way—
His organization?
Mikhail seized that thought and pushed at it, but nothing happened.The ache in his head intensified as he struggled to recall the elusive information just beyond his reach.He pressed his fingertips into the sore spot and worked in small circles, slowly easing the throbbing.Mikhail inhaled the cool, fresh air, savoring the green fragrance from the trees, the more earthy soil, and the release of tension in his brain.He’d try to remember later because this seemed important.
With a last scan to check for guards, he left the shelter of the trees and traversed the grassy patches between the rose beds.A frog croaked in the pond he passed, although he didn’t spot it.Night insects clicked, a cacophony and music to his ears.A vast improvement on the piano recital he’d had to sit through after dinner.
He followed a gravel path once farther from the house and danger of discovery.It led to a grassy meadow and a meandering stream.The tension in his shoulders released as he enjoyed the cool breeze against his bare arms and face.It had been an excellent idea to escape his room, that house, the risk of visitors bearing knives.He snorted, still unable to believe both siblings wanted him dead.
He’d almost reached the stream when an eerie sensation crept up his spine.He halted and cast out his senses while surveying the vicinity.The insects ceased chirping, and it was as if everything around him held its breath.His nape prickled harder, and self-preservation had him sliding into the nearest shadows.
A flash of black in his peripheral vision had him turning that way.It took him a second to focus, to work out what had drawn his attention.An animal, but it was acting with as much caution as him.More movement, and he finally registered it was an enormous cat.
He tried to make sense of the sight.
Not only a big cat.A black leopard.
Even as the thought crystalized, the animal inched closer, its gaze intent.Mikhail swallowed hard, his mouth dry as the creature scarcely blinked.
The chuff—a feline sound—in his head had him wincing.Of all the times for his imagination to embrace tiger stuff.Undoubtedly, he was a hop, skip, and jump from Crazy Town.
Without taking his attention from the animal, he reached for the knife still attached to his belt and slid it free.
The animal kept low and slithered close, its bright green eyes fixed on him.The tiger popped into his thoughts, and he shook his head to clear it.A mistake.The pain had him cursing, nausea sweeping through his stomach.Swallowing rapidly, he retreated, his heart slamming against his rib cage.
Instead of jumping him, the cat halted.Sat on its haunches.It cocked its head, and he swore humanlike intelligence flashed in those green eyes.The animal released a grunt that emerged faintly inquiring.The vision of a tiger paraded through his mind again.Crazy.Was the black cat his imagination?
Another grunt came.The same head tilting.The leopard edged closer.
“Stay away,” Mikhail said, his voice shakier than he wanted.
He hesitated to make more noise, given he was determined to avoid detection by the security guards.His gut told him Smirnoff would disapprove of Mikhail skulking around the garden like a thief in the night.
And his bloody mind was wandering.Crap, the beast—imaginary or not—was edging nearer.
He slashed out with his knife, the sharp blade slicing through the air.The creature jumped back with a pained hiss, and Mikhail smelled the blood, saw it on the steel.
“Who’s there?”a gruff voice demanded.
