Page 20 of Reign

I turn my back to him as I walk to the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I ask over my shoulder. Might as well be civil considering I’ve been tasked with ending his life.

“Sure.”

I pour two cups, thankful the automatic timer had it made already, and walk back into the living room, handing him his coffee and taking the seat across from him.

There’s a storm brewing outside over the ocean. It would be a perfect morning for coffee on the porch, watching the storm roll through, if a member of the Russian mafia wasn’t sitting on my couch. Perhaps the change in the air I felt was both from his presence and the warning of something more sinister brewing on the horizon.

“How do you know who I am?”

Mateo assured me that my cover was solid. If my target knows my real identity, then it’s likely that everyone else that matters does as well, making this cover as useless as a glass hammer.

He ignores my question entirely and it pisses me off.

“How’s Daniella?”

I jerk my head back in surprise. Only a small handful of people would know her by that name. More than the fact that he knows her name, it’s the concern and sincerity in his voice that catch me off guard.

“She’s fine.” She’s not actually. And she won’t be until we sort through what’s going on between us, but he doesn’t need to be involved in our personal problems. “She’s still asleep. Thank you for helping her last night,” I pause before adding pointedly, “even though I could have handled it. I’d protect her with my life.”

“That much is clear,” he says, sitting up. “I recognized the look in your eyes and knew you’d slit his throat. I meant what I said to her, Max isn’t worth the trouble of another death on your conscience.”

I grit my teeth, trying not to let my frustration show. “You’re assuming I have one.”

He nods to my empty weapon on the table between us. “If you didn’t, I wouldn’t still be breathing.”

Hmm.

“How do you know who we are?” I ask a second time.

“New neighbors pique my interest. Besides, regardless of the name on the paperwork, I know who owns this house.”

I have too many questions burning in the back of my mind and I don’t know where to start so I just stay silent and see what else he offers me.

He appraises me for an eternity as he takes a sip of his coffee before sitting it on the end table next to him. He has a scar near his temple that I didn’t notice in the low light of the bathroom last night, but is otherwise well put together. His style is impressive as he’s in another suit this morning. Better him than me. He has no facial hair and his blond hair is styled longer on the top so it falls down his forehead and across his eyes. I briefly wonder if he’s a model or a killer. It’s only when he pulls my eyes back to his silver ones that I remember the answer very clearly.

Killer.

I wrack my brain trying to recall the story Mateo told me before we left.The death of Sam Baker made international news and Nikita reached out shortly after that.

“The truth is,” he starts casually, taking his time, “I didn’t know whoyouwere last night, but no one could ever forgethereyes.” When he pauses, I stretch behind me and reach for the tequila on the server behind the couch. Black coffee isn’t strong enough for this conversation. When I turn back, I hold up the tequila in question. He declines.Probably puts vodka in his coffee.

I take a large gulp, letting the burn coat my throat. “What do you want to know?” I ask.

“Did Mateo send you to kill me?” he asks, steepling his fingers under his chin.

“Yes.” No point in lying. He probably has Mateo’s damn phones tapped.

“Why?”

I look at him quizzically. How much of my hand am I willing to tip? A little more, it seems.

“He said you’ve stolen a substantial amount of money from him and he thinks you owe him your life as repayment for your sins.”

At this, he releases a deep, genuine laugh.

“Mysins?” He plants a large hand against his even larger chest.“As if Mateo himself, hasn’t committed his own fair share. As if he isn’tstillcommitting them and sending people to clean up his mess, like he always has.

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