“Privet!” hollered the intruder.Hey!
Gabriel emerged from the bathroom.
The hitman pointed his gun at Gabriel. Halston placed her hands over his chin and the back of his head and twisted it. Hard and fast. His neck snapped, and she jumped off as he dropped to the floor. Panting hard, she stood there staring down at him.
“Holy fuck,” Gabriel murmured, his eyes wide, before he bolted into the hallway.
She followed while he cleared the three remaining bedrooms and hall bathroom. When finished, they returned to the first, peered down at the dead man. Gabriel confirmed his back pockets were empty before rolling him over. After pulling a cell phone from his pants, he turned it off. Besides the gun and the phone, the killer had nothing.
Gabriel took his gun, disappeared into his closet, and flicked on the light.
Turning away from the bright room, Halston heard beeping, then the sound of a safe being opened.
Follow him.
She stood in the doorway, peered inside. In the lit closet, Gabriel stood in front of a six-foot safe, its door wide open. After wiping down the pistol, he set it and the intruder’s cell phone on a shelf.
She stepped into the closet, her focus on the contents of his safe. At quick glance, there were six more firearms. While the thumb drive she’d been searching for in Milan could have been in there, she didn’t see it.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You want a gun… for protection?”
A feeling of betrayal washed over her. He was her mark and yet she’d slept with him twice. Not for her job. For herself. A one-nighter had turned into a two-nighter. In a strange twist of irony, she’d saved his life. Twice. If anything, he should gift her that damn thumb drive.
“No gun for me,” she replied.
He shut the safe.
They exited the closet, returned to the massive body on his bedroom floor.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“A Russian mobster.”
Ah, fuck. Fuck me.
“The bigger question… who the hell are you?” Gabriel asked. “You took him out with yourhands… in seconds. I’ve never seen anything like that, and I’ve seen a lot of violence.”
She’d acted on instinct. Years of training had paid off… or had they? She’d just murdered a Bratva.
“If this gets out,” she whispered, “I’m as good as dead.” A clamminess washed over her, and she wiped her hands on her pleated pirate skirt.
“We need to get rid of the body.”
“Master of the obvious,” she murmured.
“You got a hella voice. Much sexierwithoutthe accent.” He pulled his phone, made a call on speaker, then cemented his gaze on her.
“Develin,” the man answered.
Evangeline’s husband.
“I got ambushed…again,” Gabriel said. “I got a three-hundred-pound corpse in my bedroom.”
“Jesus. You okay?”
Please don’t tell him about me.
“I’m good. I gotta get rid of the body.”
