Page 65 of Leo, My Partner

“Get packed. We’re not leaving for another few days, but I don’t want you to forget anything.”

With a happy squeal, Ty gives me a quick kiss and hurries to our room to prepare for our first vacation together.

Our flight touches down at London Heathrow Airport three days later close to nine in the morning. We took an early flight with a one long-ass layover so we could be here in enough time to take a quick nap and do some sightseeing. I don’t really give a shit about any of that but Ty is really excited about it.

He’s bouncing in his seat, looking out the window as if he can see some of the sights from the airplane. “This is so exciting,” he says with a grin, eyes flashing as he looks at me. “I’ve always wanted to visit London.”

“We have a day to be tourists.” Tomorrow is the day we take the couple out. Ivan got their schedule down pat, knowing where they’ll be at any given time.

Our job is to dispatch a couple, another hitman team. They decided they didn’t want to be in the life anymore. In itself, that’s fine, no one can make anyone stay longer than they’d like. We’re freelancers, after all. But before they got out for good, the couple tried to leak information to shut down their handler for reasons unknown. It’s not like in the movies where if we leave the life, we have a bounty on our head. If we want to leave, if we have a handler, they’ll find someone new that can take our spot and the contracts.

The information they released was intercepted—not sure how—and the handler hired us to get rid of their old employees. Their handler went underground, and word got out he’d taken his own life rather than giving himself up to the police. In truth, he’d hidden, spreading false information until the couple was comfortable they’d tied up their last loose end so they could live out their lives. He’d hired Ivan to take them out but only after he’d disappeared for over a year.

This kill took some planning. Over the past few days, Ivan and I have been exchanging messages to figure out how to execute this flawlessly. Our targets may look like oblivious people as they walk around the city, but they’re scanning around all the time. Ivan has been doing the surveillance on them for a few weeks to try to find a weak spot. Our plan came together late last night.

From what Ivan could gather, they moved to London because of the abundance of CCTV cameras, hoping it would stop anyone from wanting to retaliate for their snitching. Ivan is great at what he does, finding a way out of any puzzle or situation.

Another precaution the couple has taken is spending their days apart, thinking if one were killed, the other would have time to flee. I’m sure they planned to keep that up until they were sure their handler was dead and didn’t send anyone after them.

For this kill, I get to use a long-ranged rifle, one I haven’t used in almost a year. I like the up-close-and-personal kills, but there’s something calming about sitting in one spot to make sure I’m locked in on my target.

The plane doors open, and I grab Ty’s hand, leading him through the busy airport. He looks around, his head on a swivel as he takes everything in. I hate waiting at baggage claim, so Ty and I packed everything we’ll need in a carry-on bag. Anything we forgot, we can buy here.

When we step outside, Ivan is standing in front of a taxi, looking the same as he did the last time I saw him. Like me, he’s tall and built wide, his shoulders stretching his shirt impressively. His hair and eyes are dark, with a hooked nose and thin lips.

As we approach, I notice he looks a little thinner and tired. It’s to be expected—Ivan has been at it since before I was born, and he’s over seventy. It’s about time he gets some rest. Not many of us retire. Ivan is the best in the business. He can hang up his blades if he wanted. He probably relishes killing too much to stop though.

“Ded,” I mutter, halting in front of him.

“Nieto. Your flight. It was good, yes?”

I shrug. “Fine.” Grabbing Ty’s hand, I pull him closer to my side. “This is Ty. My boyfriend.”

Ivan’s eyes trace down Ty’s body, and I start to push him behind me in case Ivan does or says something stupid, but Ivan smiles, holding out his hand. I’m not sure I successfully hide my surprise. Ded doesn’t smile. It’s like the mechanics of his face don’t work and that function isn’t programmed in him. I think I’ve seen Ivan smile once, and it was after he killed some guy that cheated at cards in a pub he was playing at. “I do not like cheaters,” he told me in vehement Russian as he wiped a blade on the man’s pants. “Now he knows that too.”

Ty reaches out a shaky hand, clasping Ivan’s. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Ivan says, tilting his head to the side. “Your eyes. Different color. Very uncommon.”

Ty nods, and I can tell he’s trying to keep the irritation off his face. I know he’s tired of hearing it, but Ty is too polite to tell Ivan that. “Yep. I ate my twin in the womb.” When Ivan just stares blankly at him, Ty blushes, shaking his head. “Sorry, that was a joke. A bad one, obviously. My cousin used to tell me that when I was younger when I wondered why my eyes were different colors and not like everyone else’s. I didn’t have a twin in the womb. Not as far as I know anyway.” Ty pulls in a deep breath and starts to speak again, then folds his lips in. He looks at me with wide eyes like he thinks he’s embarrassed himself. I give his hand a squeeze, letting him know everything is okay.

Ded doesn’t even flinch at Ty’s ramblings. With a small smirk, he nods to the taxi. “Come. We get to hotel, and we talk where no ears can hear.”

I open the taxi door for Ty to slide in and get in behind him. Ivan sits in the front seat, telling the cabbie where to take us.

Once we’re checked in at the hotel and in our room, Ty takes off his shoes and climbs to the top of the bed, and Ivan sits in the armchair beside the window. I perch at the end of the bed, waiting for him to speak.

His position and demeanor reminds me of when I was a kid. There was never any rushing Ivan—he spoke when he was ready.

I pull off my shoes and slide them under the bed, then put my elbows on my knees, waiting. A hacking cough racks Ivan’s body, and his frame vibrates with the force of it. I sit up, raising an eyebrow. Alarm bells sound in my head, but I’m not sure what they mean. Ivan always told me to trust my instincts, but I’m not sure which ones I should be trusting right now. He waves me off, plucking a tissue from the box on the desk and wiping his mouth.

Finally, Ivan turns to me. “Tomorrow afternoon, one o’clock. The woman will be at eatery. She go to eatery once a week. She may be earlier, may be later. She does not go before one in afternoon. I have you set up on roof. You be ready, right?”

“We’ll be ready. Where will you be?”

“Across the city. Her husband eat somewhere else. They communicate by phone during lunch.”

I nod. “Okay. What do we do after it’s done?”

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