“I know you’re going to tell me to quit, or move somewhere safer.” Gemma’s voice took on a desperate air. “But I can’t afford to. I’m so close to doing better in life. And it was probably a one off and-”
I squeezed her into a hug. “It’s going to be okay,” I said as she quivered against me.
I’d make sure it was.
Chapter six
Alisa
This was a bad idea. Averybad idea.
Still, I tried to smile in a seductive manner at the mobster approaching the bar.
After Gemma had shown me the picture of the man who’d followed her home and likely broken into her place, I’d done my own research.
It hadn’t been nearly as intensive as the research from the men that my father hired to look into my targets. Those men could break into anyone’s computers and dig up all their secret interests. Then they put them into a neat little list for me to construct the perfect appearance and preferences in order to lead the target to their death.
But those men weren’t at my beck and call. Just like everything else in my life, my father controlled them. And I certainly didn’t want my father to find out about this.
Especially because Igor Bocharov wasn’t just a typical mobster.
No, he was a member of a separate branch of the Bratva in New York City. The same branch that we had anextremelytenuous truce with.
The Morozov Bratva.
Our Pakhan and their Pakhan kept very clear delineations between their respective territories, because if the rival organizations' paths intersected…
Everything would combust.
Our Pakhan made it clear that if anyone were to strain that peace, it wouldn’t end well for the perpetrators.
My heart stuttered when Igor sat in the vacant seat beside me. His body was twice the size of my own, and he’d used it to kill and torture plenty of women. My research had determined it was a bit of a hobby for him, and I refused to allow Gemma to be his next victim.
Breathe.
I needed to be focused.
Especially since the mobster was currently staring down at me with cold eyes.
But I’d handled colder stares, and I wouldn’t beat a hasty retreat when Gemma needed me.
And shedidneed me to protect her. This dangerous man had strangled plenty of women with those massive arms.
Insidious anxiety snuck through my brain. The fact that I was recovering from more microdosing did nothing to suffocate it.
Still, I didn’t allow my internal thoughts to show on my extremely made up and disguised face.
“Whiskey neat,” I said to the bartender, aware that it was one of Igor’s favorites.
“Scotch,” he said to the bartender, his voice cold and controlled.
He leaned in closer. “What are you doing here, zaika?”
Little rabbit. The word was spoken in Russian and with a deep voice, yet it didn’t come close to triggering that lustful spite that my body seemed to reserve for Dmitri.
“Maybe, you’ll find out,” I said coyly, taking a small sip of the whiskey and wishing it was a Mai Tai.
His eyes took in my body, and I got the feeling he’d try to take everything he wanted whether I liked it or not. My brain told me all the reasons I should set down my drink and disengage.
