Page 12 of Ruinous Need
A smarmy, straight-laced asshole like that wouldn’t know what had hit him. He wouldn’t even notice the marker appearing, the red dot, before everything went black. My fingers itch for the sniper rifle that lies beneath the passenger seat.
“What is it, Viktor?”
That’s Markov. My right-hand man. The only bastard in the Bratva more dangerous than me. What I don’t know about him could fill a book — he arrived here ten years ago from Russia and doesn’t talk about his past — but I trust him all the same.
He’s so attuned to my emotions that it can feel like he knows me better than I know myself.
I wipe the smile off my face. I won’t tell him about my murderous thoughts. Markov is here to stop me from over-reacting where Lisette is concerned, and to make sure I don’t freeze up like I did the other night. He doesn’t need to know how out of control I’m feeling.
“It’s nothing. This will be straightforward. We know the plan.”
He nods and we lapse into silence.
The wait is agonizing. Lisette is more energetic than I’ve ever seen her, practically vibrating with movement.
From my week of observations, I know she’s never still, always tapping her fingers or gently swaying to music, but this is a new level of energy even for her.
For a second I wonder if she can sense that she’s being watched. She turns her head to look right out the window and into the driver’s seat, as though she knows I’m there. Then she shakes her head as though focusing and arranges her face into a polite smile at whatever her date is saying.
I get the feeling she’s not enjoying the date nearly as much as she’s pretending to.She’s forcing laughs at Damien’s jokes and even letting him wrap his arm around her shoulders.
I try not to let the tension show on my face as I think about how easy it would be to take the shot.
Although I’d get blood all over her pretty dress. It wouldn’t be the best introduction to my new roommate.
After the second drink, they wait out front to hail a taxi together. They’re holding hands loosely, side-by-side. Lisette shifts in the cold, her breath clouding in front of her face.
A group of rowdy teenagers walks past, leaving the pavement clear for us to approach them from behind. The bar staff are successfully distracted by our difficult couple asking for the manager.
I nod at Markov.
Go time.
We exit the car silently, needles in hand. As much as I’m fantasizing about putting Damien in the ground, tonight we’re only using sedatives.
Markov spikes the guy first and supports his body weight for the half-second it takes for me to reach Lisette.
As I approach, she turns and fixes me with those sea-green eyes again, like she knew I was going to be here.She doesn’t look surprised, just defiant.
I refuse to hesitate this time. I’m already close enough to jab her shoulder.
She looks like she’s about to say something, clenching her jaw with anger, but she’s too late. I wrap my hand over her mouth, muffling her scream as the needle enters.
The protest fades away as the sedative makes its way through her system. Her face slackens, and I scoop her up into my arms, depositing her on the back seat of the SUV.
I try not to breathe deeply, but the light sugary smell of her hair and perfume is already filling the confined space.
I cough it out. Markov gives me a strange look. He drags the guy over to the front steps of the bar, where he’ll just look like an idiot who drank too much.
It’s over, clean, and done within seconds.
I hand the keys to Markov, and he drives us to the apartment.
That’s for the best.
I’m far too distracted to drive right now.
I replay the events in my head. Zeroing in on the way her face hardened when she saw me. The way she was trying so hard to clench her jaw and look tough, as if someone so insubstantial ever could.
