Page 289 of Assassin

Her sixth sense was going haywire.

Stopping to look in a shop window, Aly pretended to be watching the patrons buying herbs and all things magickal inside. Only, she was watching her surroundings in the reflection of the glass.

It was weird.

There was nothing out of place or that could be considered dangerous.

All around her, people moved and ebbed, going about their business.

Maybe she was just paranoid for no reason.

That had to be it.

With her life, being paranoid had saved her bacon more than once. As of late, with the shit hitting the fan, and the Russians turning on the Crofts, it was better to be safe than sorry.

The last thing she wanted was to die in an alley, or nearly die.

Again.

As she continued her walk through the quaint town, she was acutely aware of her surroundings. In her line of work, you had to be, or you were going to end up dead.

And that would suck.

Aly wanted nothing more than to live so she could see how her story would end. She was rooting for a happy ending—even if she knew she didn’t deserve one.

Her Karma was questionable at best.

Walking toward the restaurant, she felt that awareness again, and she knew she had to test her theory. There was no way her sense of self-preservation was going off and was wrong.

No.

Freaking.

Way.

Instead of staying on the same path, she chose to walk down an alley where she could assess the situation.

Now, Alyona knew Salem.

Before getting an apartment here, she’d memorized the layout of the city. At the end of this alley, framing another of the streets, there was a private investigator’s office, Littlemoon Investigations, a coffee shop, and a few other businesses.

The employees used it to get to work.

At this time of the night, as dusk was falling, it should be safe.

Heading into the alley, she didn’t make it ten feet when she heard the voice.

“You look good as a redhead, My Love.”

She froze dead in her tracks.

Holy shit.

AJAX.

Turning, she found him leaning against the wall of the old stone building, watching her. His foot was braced on the brick, and he had no emotions on his face.

Well, the jig was up.

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