I made it to the house with ease. Guess Yoro hadn’t left many men behind, and the ones he did, he would have stationed at the front of the house and at the gate.
Quickly I started to put bugs in the areas I deemed hot. The ones where Yoro would be most likely to have conversations. The fact that fear was nonexistent to me kept me calm and collected. I didn’t feel my heart accelerate when I heard a voice down the hall, nor did my palms get sweaty.
When I made it to the second floor, I hurried, knowing my window would come to an end soon. I made it to the master bedroom, something I knew from looking at the Zillow listing from a previous owner. People were dumb as fuck putting everything online now. Nothing digital ever went away.
The moment that I stepped inside, something felt off. I felt the burn of someone’s gaze on my skin. My gun was drawn and ready to shoot. I would never hesitate to paint the world red if it meant saving my own arse.
Quickly I scanned the room, and when I found what I was looking for, I staggered. There was a woman cuffed to an armoire. Her hands were above her head, jet-black hair, with a black baby doll that was see-through. Pink nipples that made my mouth water were jutted toward me. Her lips were a soft pink, her body was pale, and then when I got to her eyes, it felt like I had fucking died.
It was like getting caught in the middle of a snowstorm. Icy gaze full of chaos, and there was nowhere to go. Her gray eyes were pale, unique-looking. I’d traveled the world and never seen any quite like hers.
People talked about being caught in crossroads, and this was my moment. What was another dead agent to me? I could kill the bitch, her pretty pale body bathing in blood, and maybe that would unravel Yoro. Leave this place and not look back… Before I could even contemplate option two, she spoke.
“Please…help me,” she cried out. Her sweet voice was a little hoarse, but it was the loveliest shit I’d ever heard. She cocked her head to the side, looking up at me from lowered lashes.
“My master is not kind. He’s going to kill me.”
The last thing I had was time to converse with her, but I walked until I was standing in front of her, then crouched.
“You don’t think I’ll kill you, doll?” I reached out to touch her chin. She looked ethereal like a goddess, or maybe she was a trap.
Her stormy eyes gazed at me, unflinching. “Had you wanted to, I would have been dead already.”
I grinned.
I drew closer to her. She smelled good, soft and fresh. I plucked out one of the knives I carried and brought the tip to the hollow of her throat, tracing the tip up her neck, lifting her chin. Her breathing was even, her eyes wary. Sorry to say, I was intrigued. Then I traced the blade to her lips.
“Doll, I wouldn’t have a problem slicing this—” I pressed the tip of the knife to her cheek, poking her but not piercing the skin. “—across your throat like butter.”
Her wintry eyes became like steel in a second. Still, she wasn’t afraid. My free hand went to her throat, choking her lightly. When I felt her gentle pulse, it became real to me that this woman wasn’t afraid.
I let go of her neck and brought my hand down to her legs. When I forced her legs apart, she seethed. Her nostrils flared, and her chest rose and fell, beckoning my mouth toward those pretty tits.
“Stop. Touching. Me,” she spat through gritted teeth as I cupped her pussy.
With my hand still on her soft sex, I looked into her angry gaze. “You didn’t even piss yourself a little. I’ve seen grown men make a mess when I get near them.”
“Let go of me.” Her voice was hoarse, her Russian accent sounding a little more clear. It was sexy. I wanted to make her scream and hear the different range of octaves pierce the air.
“Love, you aren’t in a position to make demands.”
“Didn’t your mother teach you to respect women?”
“My parents got murdered.” I told her a truth I had never shared with anyone else. “Mum never got around to teach me about respect.”
I shrugged, then took a deep breath.
“You either kill me, leave me, or risk getting caught. You’ve been here for five minutes already. Your time is running out…tick…tock.”
The last words rolled off her cute little tongue, and with that, her fearless attitude sealed her fate.
She was going to help me get what I needed, and then I would no longer have use for her.
Lookinginto his eyes was like drinking whiskey. It got you a little jittery and light-headed, aware that you just might lose your mind.
The moment he pointed the barrel of the gun at me, I knew I had a choice to make. My babushka said blessings came in all forms, and this man might just be mine.
I could never kill Yorovich because it went against the contract my father made with him, but if he met his maker by the hands of someone else, that was no skin off my nose. I could advocate about rights and female power, but the truth was years of sociological behavior was ingrained in male DNA. I could be a fire-breathing dragon or a helpless little dove. Men would always respond to weakness; strong women scared them. They resented the fact that having a cock was not enough reason for us to submit.