Page 32 of Dark Deviant

A beam of moonlight casts a shadow over his chiseled jaw. His lips twist. “You wanna take your chances and stay here with your idiot brothers?”

My back bristles. “They’re good men. They would do anything to protect us.”

“Except they couldn’t. Remember? That was all me. Now get in the fucking car.”

“Don’t order me around. You need me. You said so yourself.”

A rustling of leaves behind us whispers something ominous that makes the hairs on my arms spring to attention. I choke on a gasp, my eyes darting left and right.

Someone is out there watching.

Danil clamps his hand around my wrist and yanks me close. My skin tingles at his rough touch. His eyes glow, hunger glimmering in the depths. “You need me more. And I’m gonna show you just how much.”

Chapter13

Danil

Larysa glares up at me, her nostrils flared. Her violet eyes narrow, lips pulled into a tight line of defiance. But she doesn’t respond.

She’s smart. With so much to protect and so little protection to count on, she can’t afford to call my bluff.

I point at the leather bucket seat.

“Where am I supposed to put all of my stuff?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Is there room in the trunk, or are you storing a body back there since you’re a killer and all?”

“My brother just restored this car for me. No fucking way am I sticking a body in there.”

“How charming,” she snarls.

“Oh, but you need to take off your shoes before getting in.” I keep my expression deadpan.

Her eyes widen. “You havegotto be kidding me.”

“See, I’m not only a killer. I’m kind of a comedian, too.” I wink at her. “I wear a lot of hats.”

“Yeah, and asshat seems to be your favorite. But I love that you can joke when there might be a sniper somewhere poised to blow my head off.Funny.” With a huff and roll of her eyes, she pushes past me and sinks into the seat, stuffing her bags in the tiny space around her feet. A whiff of her scent floats into the air and I drag it into my lungs — fresh and clean like soap and newly dried laundry.

The familiar smell jarred me back at the house, right before I held a knife to her throat. And after all this time, I still haven’t forgotten it. When I stormed into that bar two-and-a-half years ago, I’d just been berated and belittled by my cocksucker brother Dima for fucking up the deal with Olek. Fury boiled my blood and my trigger finger itched to blow up every bottle of booze stocked on the glass shelves in front of me.

Minutes after I sat on that bar stool, a gorgeous blonde wearing that same exact scent had plastered herself against me, her sultry voice suggesting plenty of ways to forget my failure. And she delivered…over and over again.

That scent was a flickering ember in a dark memory I thought I’d buried forever.

Until she became my enemy.

The great thing about being an assassin is that you go in, do a hit, and walk away. No loose ends, no messes, no lingering regrets. It’s cold, calculated, and swift —ifyou’re any good.

You don’t strategize about the target or analyze grand takedown plans. You’re given an order and you execute. Literally.

I failed on that front because my original target is alive and well, stuffed into the bucket seat next to me.

Still an enemy. Still begging for punishment every time she opens that smart mouth of hers.

I’m not the criminal mastermind of the family. My job is to protect and to eliminate threats. I did that tonight, but I still don’t know whose family’s threats I ended. And that frustrates the fuck out of me because…loose goddamn ends.

“Where are you taking me?”

The hair on the back of my neck bristles as I’m jolted from the conflicting thoughts sparring in my brain.

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