Page 248 of Enemies

“Before you killed them.”

He lifts a hand as if I’m the one being unreasonable. “I didn’t kill them. They indulged.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Remember when we did that job together? We made a strong team.” Mischa stretches his legs out, and it’s like we’re two old men reminiscing about good times.

If the good times were trafficking narcotics.

It was the first and last thing I did for his parents, back when he was trying to convince me to work for them.

“No. We were never a team. You never had a chance at recruiting me.”

“That’s what I told my parents.” He sounds almost sad.

I don’t know what they did to him for his failure.

I can’t find it in me to care.

“Congratulations,” I say, thinking of his engagement. ”I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

He grins. “I have plans for her. You won’t miss her? I used to prefer blondes, but lately it’s brunettes. Strange to have preferences change after decades.”

My gut twists.

He’s not talking about Eva. He’s talking about Rae.

I lean across the bench, ignoring a pack of schoolchildren that runs past, and grab his collar. “You will never have her.”

The children are barely past when two men—no, three—start to close in on us from around the park.

I didn’t bring security to London, preferring to leave them with Raegan.

Now, I realize that was either wise or foolish as Mischa rises, dragging me with him. He produces a knife, holding it at my stomach, hidden from prying eyes by my jacket.

Despite the public setting, the blade is an unyielding promise against my abs.

Bloodshed is a crass way to get what you want. I prefer deals with wits and money. But adrenaline and rage pound in my veins.

“Coward’s way out,” I rasp. “You always took it, even in school.”

“Would you do it?” He wraps my hand around his, flipping the knife so it’s against his stomach. “You say you’re not like me. Let’s find out.”

I could do it, could end this for all of us.

My phone jumps in my pocket. I ignore it, but he grins.

The next second, he’s gone, turning and slipping into the stream of pedestrians along the sidewalk that borders the park.

I’m not a killer like he is. But I wish I were.

It’s not until I’m in my new car and on the way to the airport that I check my phone.

A slew of messages and notifications fills the screen, and one in particular grabs my attention.

Rae: We need you at the villa. This is not a fucking drill.

I call her.

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