Page 3 of Twisted Fate

My fingers tremble, and I tighten my grip around my glass to hide it. “Kane. Youpromisedme.”

He knows that as well as I do. At thirteen, he started my training with a promise—that if I was a good student, if I trained hard and learned well, if I obeyed without question and succeeded in my missions, he would find the one thing for me that I wanted above all else…the truth about what happened to my parents when I was a child. Why they were killed, and who was responsible.

Kane told me that he was shaping me into a lethal weapon toward that end. I would work for him, and in time, I would be able to exact my revenge on the person responsible for stealing my family’s lives. For stealingmylife, the way it was meant to happen.

No matter how good my life is now, it’s not the one I was born to have. Someone took that from me, and I’ve been working for fifteen years toward my revenge.

“You promised me when I turned eighteen. You said you knew who it was. That when I was ready, you’d tell me, as long as I did as I was told. As long as I never failed.” I lean forward. “I’ve never failed, Kane. Not once. And you know I’m ready.”

He lets out a slow breath. “You’re right, Valentina,” he begins, and relief washes over me. I hadn’t realized just how done I was until I thought that he was going to refuse me. “But?—”

“Kane.” My stomach tightens.

He holds up a hand. “Hear me out, Valentina. You’re right, you are ready. And you’ve never failed me. So this is my compromise.” He stands and pours himself another two fingers of whiskey before crossing to his desk and retrieving a leather folio from on top of it. He returns to his chair and sits, holding the folder out to me. “Look at it.”

I press my lips together, biting back my impatience, but I humor him. I take the folio from his hand, the leather cool against my fingertips, and flip it open.

A photo of one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen looks back up at me.

He looks deadly even from the picture. I’ve spent my life around dangerous men, some of my ten years as an assassin hunting them, and I know the look. His blue eyes stare back at me with a calm arrogance, his chiseled face the perfect backdrop for full lips twisted in a smirk. Tattoos climb above the collar ofhis dress shirt, and his dark blond hair is perfectly styled. He might be a cocky billionaire or a reserved crime boss—except he’s more than that. It’s in his eyes.

This is a man who knows the scent of blood, the way it feels slick and hot on the knuckles after a well-timed punch, the taste of it when it sprays back on his lips. I’d bet money on it, and I’m not even a gambling sort of woman.

I flip the photo up to see a dossier sheet, his name typed at the top.Konstantin Abramov.

I know that name. Anyone with connections to Miami’s criminal underworld does.

“The heir to the Abramov Bratva.” I flip the folder closed, not wanting to look at the photo any longer. Those blue eyes sent a strange sensation through me, a chill down my spine followed by a warmth pooling in my belly. I’m no stranger to handsome men—and some who weren’t—but there’s something different about this one. I don’t want to linger on it. “What does that have to do with me?”

It might as well be a rhetorical question, for all that I know the answer before Kane speaks it aloud. “He’s your next mission,” he says calmly. “Your final one, if you accept it. If not—” He shrugs, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “I’m sure we could revisit this conversation after another year.”

My stomach tightens, my pulse leaping into my throat. I can feel my entire body rebelling against the idea of doing this for another year. More flights to far-flung countries, more long nights, more stakeouts, more seductions. More kills. I’m not sure I can handle it.

But I also can’t fathom taking on a job like this.

“Someone wants him dead?” It’s not beyond belief, but to take out a hit on a Bratva heir requires money, balls, and a hell of a good reason. “That’s beyond my skill set,” I shake my head, holding out the folio to Kane.

He doesn’t take it from me. “You know that’s not true, Valentina. With your weapons skills alone, you could do the job. But those aren’t the only skills you’d be employing.”

Seduction.Of course. It’s far from the first time Kane has sent me in as a honeypot. Those are my least favorite missions, the ones where I have to make some stranger believe that I’m going to take him to bed in order to go in for the kill. There’ve been times when I’ve had to actually do it. A few times, it wasn’t so bad. When the men have been handsome, I haven’t minded so much. But Kane doesn’t hand out those targets with their attractiveness in mind. It’s just been a bonus, now and then.

“I can’t do it,” I insist. “You’re going to get me killed.”

Kane clicks his tongue. “Now, now, Valentina. Would I put you in danger like that? You’re like a daughter to me. I wouldn’t give you a mission that I didn’t believe you could handle.”

“I’m in danger every time I go out on a job.”

“Danger you’re equipped for,” he takes a sip of his whiskey. “But if you want to revisit this conversation in a year, I’m sure I can find another mark for you. I believe there’s a contract in Mozambique?—”

I glare at him, not bothering to hide my annoyance any longer. I like the heat, but an African desert is a bit much, and Kane knows it. “Who wants him dead?”

Kane smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which meet mine with a cold stare. “I do.”

I blink with shock, too stunned for a moment to speak. Kane doesn’t take out contracts. He brokers them. “You’rethe client?”

He nods. “Thus why I want you to do the job, Valentina. You’re the only one I can trust with it. Think about it. The biggest job you’ve ever done, and forme. Your mentor, your father figure.” He smiles placatingly. “Your final job. What a way to finish your illustrious career as an assassin, hm? This last job forme… and then one for yourself, when I give you the name you want.”

The name. A prickle runs over my skin. I’m so close to the thing I’ve wanted since I was eight years old. And all I have to do is take a job that, if I put the slightest foot wrong, could kill me.

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