“You don’t have to,” I called out, but he’d already pushed through the door.
Great, I couldn’t do the sneeze trick again. Knowing Katie, she’d already have her eyes on the prize, so she’d be little help. What would I do when he came back with another drink?
2
Alexei
Iused to believe in God, but not since that day. The last few hours had me questioning my lack of belief. For without some sort of divine providence, how could Gianna Marciano be sitting, unsuspecting, just outside the bar with only tinted glass and brick between us? The Bastard was all the way across the ocean in New York. He couldn’t stop me now.
Well, either divine intervention or a little luck with a whole lot of work put in, really. The Bastard kept her safe in the States. My father’s ties to Putin had us flagged by US Customs. Unless I snuck in, they’d turn me back almost before my feet touched the ground.
My favorite Moldovian hacker had flagged her for me, so I’d know the moment she left the country. That she had traveled to Rome so soon after I’d left Malta on my yacht, that was luck, or the long and winding course of history bending toward justice.
So close to my target, my fingers rapped a frantic pattern on the glass I held. A nervous habit I’d gotten over the first few times I held a gun while intending harm. This wasn’t a hit. No need to tap into that excitable and lethal energy. I wasn’t a monster, happy to hurt women and children. Gianna would be safe with me.
Okay, maybe I was a monster, on occasion, but not that type of monster. Gianna was my goal, not my true prey. Even so, I’d stalked her like a tundra wolf from the airport to the hotel and straight to this bar with her bubbly blonde friend Katie.
Watching them, I’d found that Gianna couldn’t contrast her friend more if she tried. Unlike the chatterbox with her slouched posture and wild gestures, my current target sat rigid, her shoulders set, prim and proper like one of the lords daughters at Charterhouse. That matched the intelligence dossier I’d had compiled.
Unlike her friend and roommate, Gianna didn’t post a picture of every single outfit and meal she tried on or ate on Instagram. She ghosted socials. Understandable. The Bastard had dangerous enemies. If her BFF didn’t live her life online, my information would have been even more scarce.
My target snatched the glass off the table and sniffed it. She wasn’t going to drink it. A girl like that, so controlled, she wouldn’t let that façade crack, to take the risk of letting it slip with the liquor.
She slammed it down and my own almost slipped out of my fingers. Had the intelligence been wrong, or was my assessment of the Bastard’s daughter faulty? As confident as I was in my analysis, only a fool thought themselves beyond error. That sort of arrogance bit you in the ass in the end.
It didn’t matter. No battle plan survived contact with the enemies. Some had to adapt even before the first volley had been fired. The unexpected looked good on her anyway.
It might have been the drink, but her mask slipped soon after. Not much, a slight smile came to her face, softening it. The tension in her posture relaxed. The few pictures I had of her hadn’t done her justice, not at all.
They only showed her façade, the reserved public-facing flat expression of a dutiful daughter in a write-up of the Bastard’s investment firm, or the same in her senior class photo at Exeter.
In real life and with a second drink in her now, I found her captivating. The dark curls that framed her olive toned face danced when she snapped a retort to her friend. Her smile broadened into a playful smirk. She leaned back in her chair. Her modestly cut top hid more of her body than her friend’s plunging neckline, but clothes of that quality were tailored to emphasize a woman’s femininity, her curves. Finding the target attractive only made my job easier. Now, all I needed was a proper opening.
As if the divine had been listening in to my thoughts, both girls froze before Katie stood, turning toward the bar door and Gianna pulled a phone out of her handbag. My target was alone but I stayed still. I’d waited years for this opportunity. I could wait a few more minutes to ensure she remained alone.
Once her friend left, she stared at the phone screen, rigid as she’d been before the drinks. Her lips mouthed the word ‘father,’ and my grip tightened, fingers white on the glass when she answered it. If I was as much a monster as the Bastard, I’d have her hit right now. Let him hear the shots, his daughter’s dying breaths knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. But I wasn’t him.
“Well, hello tall, blond and handsome,” a feminine voice said, too close.
My head jerked around to find the bubbly blonde standing in front of my table. Her eyes looked me up and down, smirk growing. Then they darted between me and where I’d been looking.
“Oh, I don’t think Gia’s ready for a guy like you.” She giggled and batted her eyes, stepping closer. Her fingers stroked the back of the chair opposite me. “You are certainly not a starter model.”
“Starter model?” I repeated with a frown.
“And you’re British! I just love that accent,” she gushed before winking, “maybe I’ll be back for you myself.”
She walked off before I could respond. Not that I would have corrected her. When Gianna disappeared, better her companion tell the police about the handsome Brit than the Russian thug.
Katie continued toward the bar. Even before she reached the bartender, a couple of locals approached her. With a tilt of her head, she gave them the same appraisal she’d given me. Immediately after, she pressed closer to the taller of the two and whispered something to the other man.
His head jerked to stare out the window at my target. His lips curled into a punchable smile. After whispered words with his buddy, he turned his back to me at the bar. Katie let the other guy lead her back to his table. The one at the bar turned toward the door. As he passed, he shook the shot glass in his hand.
Had he spiked it?
He complicated the plan just by heading toward my target. Not physically. He nearly matched my height, maybe an inch or two shorter, but his arms were thin as twigs. I’d snap one, if it came to that, but such actions came with screaming and wailing, attention I’d rather not get. My assessment of Gianna told me she’d likely take advantage of a scene, use it to escape. You only got one chance for a surprise attack. Once the enemy has regrouped, you did too.
If he slipped something in her drink, she’d be easier to handle, more compliant. Less chance of a scene but the thought had me frowning. If I wanted my revenge to be easy, I’d just kill her. Eye for an eye and all that.
