Page 65 of Alik

“Are you going to let me in, or do you want to pat me down first?”

Clearing my throat, I lift my eyes to his and step aside. He wanders inside my apartment and looks around until he finds the gun pulled apart on my table. I narrow my eyes at the pieces of metal spread out on a rag with another cloth beside them.

Was Olive cleaning it?

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” he says, staring at the pan of cookies on the stove next.

Cookies.

I look like I’ve been here, ignoring my boss’s calls, baking cookies.

If he doesn’t kill me, I might.

“Last night, I hit a bit of a roadblock with the work you gave me, sir. Sometimes, I think better while high.”

He turns to me with a brow raised.

“I was up all night. I, uh, I must’ve passed out this afternoon.” When I glance at the window, it’s dark. “I’m sorry I missed your calls.”

“Did it work?”

I lift my chin. “Hmm?”

“Did getting high and sleeping the day away help you find Vitaly? I hope so because?—”

“No,” I say before he can finish his threat.

His nostrils flare, but when he opens his mouth, I interrupt a second time.

“Give me twenty-four more hours. I’ll find him by then. You have my word.”

A long beat passes before his cane stabs the floor, and he looks around my apartment again, considering my offer. I can tell he isn’t happy about it. A muscle jumps in his cheek, and his eyes are fiery. But he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“You’re one disappointment after the next lately,” he says, almost under his breath. “Why should you get more time?”

“Because as you said, intentionality means nothing to you, sir. You care about results. And despite my poor performance recently, there isn’t anyone who can get you what you want any faster than I can.”

He scoffs, but we both know I’m right.

Seconds pass while he tries to make me sweat, but it isn’t until his eyes land on my bedroom door that my heart skips.

I haven’t felt a trickle of anxiety at his threats. Working with Nikita, you get used to them. You learn to suppress your fear. The man can sniff it out like a bloodhound, and when he senses your weakness, he’ll never respect you. Then you really are in danger.

But when I spot the door that I distinctly remember shutting cracked open, Nikita’s gaze glued to it, fear prickles my ears.

He would kill me for disappointing him, I have no question about that. He prefers knives, so I’d predict a few stabs to the stomach, similar to how Purple Lips died. If he knew I betrayed him, he would take his time with it, still with a knife, probably with an audience.

But her… If he found Olive…

She would suffer a much worse fate.

I consider my gun that’s pulled apart on my table and rule it out in an instance before searching along my kitchen countertop for a weapon. Of course, I don’t need one. I could disarm him easily as long as he didn’t catch me off guard. My guard isneverlowered while in the presence of Nikita.

“Fine,” he says at last, breaking up my thoughts.

I force eye contact only for him to turn and wander farther into my living room, too close to my bedroom door for my comfort. I turn to my kitchen knife block but force myself to walk the opposite direction, following Nikita.

“Twenty-four hours and not a second more. If you can’t find him by then, you aren’t nearly as good as you think you are.”

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