Page 50 of Arranged Obsession
My phone rings, and I nearly throw it out the fucking window.
“How are things with the new wife?” Dad doesn’t sound happy.
“They’re fine. She’s at the office now.”
“And where are you?”
Sitting out front of her office torturing myself with how badly I want her.
“Home.”
He doesn’t sound like he believes me. “I have work for you. It’s sensitive.”
I sit up straight, still staring at Bianca’s office building. “Name?”
“Yuri Morozov.”
I go very still. My heart quickens in my chest. That’s not fear I’m feeling, but it’s definitely concern. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Take care of it.”
Dad hangs up.
I stare down at the phone.
Yuri Morozov.
Fucking hell. I don’t know what Dad’s up to, but it isn’t good. Usually, he tells me why the target needs to be eliminated, but sometimes it’s a no-questions-asked sort of situation.
This is one of those rare instances where I’m tempted to call him back and make him explain.
Instead, I don’t move. I can’t seem to peel myself from this spot. I want to keep staring at my wife’s office, if only to make sure she’s safe. What if she tries to leave early and someone mugs her on the walk home? What if gunmen kick in the doors and kill everyone in the building?
I’m going to drive myself insane.
“Need to work,” I murmur, starting my car’s engine. The BMW comes to life. “Distract myself.”
But I don’t want to.
All I want is her.
Yuri Morozov’sgot the squarest head I’ve ever seen in my life.
It’s cartoonish. The buzz cut doesn’t help. The man’s chin is cut straight across. There’s no jaw, or maybe all jaw, I can’t really tell. He’s blocky all over though, with thick arms and a neck like rawhide.
He wasn’t hard to find. The Morozov Bratva’s one of the largest Russian criminal organizations in the city. They’re powerful and our biggest direct rivals. My father hates their Pakhan with a burning passion. I assume the feeling’s mutual.
It’s extremely unusual for Dad to send me after a Morozov. Especially a member of the inner circle.
Yuri is the Pakhan’s nephew. He’s high up in their command structure. Most of their street-level drug operations run through him. Which means he’s always out driving around the city and is surprisingly easy to watch.
Most kills like this take time. I need to get to know my victims. It’s like a dance or a courtship. I study their movements, learn their habits. In some ways, I learn to love them like a brother. Then I can plan how to wrap my hands around their throat and squeeze until they’re no longer a problem.
It’s easy to kill what I love.
Tonight’s different. Yuri parks in a quiet section of the Bronx at the end of a ratty old alleyway. He sits there for almost an hour until another car parks beside him. I’m not sure what’s happening, but a group of people exits the new vehicle, and they head out of view. Yuri follows them, sauntering along like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I’m tempted to get closer. Instead, I watch and watch.
