15
IVAN
Yasha crashes through the back door fifteen minutes later with a thrashing man in his arms.
“Enough with the resisting,” he barks at the poor bastard. “You’re captured. Give it up already.”
The man falls to the greasy tile floor and rises to his hands and knees. Dark eyes bounce from face to face in hope and desperation.
“There’s nowhere to go,” I inform him coldly.
The door leading out to the alley slams closed with finality, rattling the stainless steel shelves. I moved Cora into the kitchen to get away from the windows in the dining room. But with the numerous sinks and drains in the floor, this will make a nice kill room, too. Blood cleans up about as easily as tomato sauce.
The man starts to say something, but I hold up a hand and he immediately clams up again.
I pace across the floor towards the man and gesture for him to sit up. He’s small with stocky arms and legs. His neck is thick and his head is balding. When he sits up, he glares at me, lip curled.
I promptly slug him in the face.
He collapses forward again, wheezing out a curse. Cora gasps from somewhere behind me, but I can’t think about her now. I have to stay focused.
I crouch down in front of the man with a sneer on my face. “Why did you shoot at us?”
The man’s eyes are dark. He turns his head and spits on the floor before facing me again. “I wasn’t shooting at you.”
“Oh, so it was the windows you were after. Well then, nice shot. They never stood a chance.”
“I was aiming for her,” he hisses.
“Ah.” I frown. “Then I stand corrected. You’re a fucking terrible shot.”
“It was a warning. I wanted to draw you outside.” He leans around me to see Cora. “I wanted a clear shot at her.”
My fist connects with his soft jaw before I can stop myself.
“Fuck!” he complains as he spits out a bloody, broken tooth fragment. “If you’re going to kill me, just kill me.”
“You sound surprisingly eager for death.”
He spits blood and shrugs. “I’m dead either way. I failed the mission.”
I feel Cora inching closer. I hold out an arm to stop her and she lays her hand on my wrist. It’s a small gesture. Just a light touch. But it is far more distracting than it should be. Same goes for her strawberries-and-cream scent poisoning me more and more with every breath.
“Who sent you here?” I grit out.
He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that.”
“You’re dead either way,” I remind him. “No point in being shy now.”
“I’m dead, either way, yeah. But my family is another matter. If I tell you who sent me, they’re dead, too. Unless…”
In the corner of my eyes, I see Cora’s brows draw together. There’s a small scrape along her jaw from the glass. I barely stop myself from reaching out to dab the blood away.
The man swallows. Then before I can say anything else, the man lunges forward at her.
She doesn’t even have time to react before I grab the assassin by the throat and throw him back on the stainless steel countertop.
“I’m sorry!” Cora gasps as she lunges backward. “I didn’t—I thought—”
“Don’t apologize.” I squeeze the man’s throat. He wraps his hands around my wrist, but it would take three of him and a fucking miracle to make me loosen my grip. “That’s his job. Come on now, mudak. Apologize to the lady.”
His mouth opens, a wheeze leaking out of his collapsing windpipe.
I hold him tighter. “Hurry. Apologize before it’s too late.”
His tongue looks swollen in his mouth. His eyes are bulging. He looks like an overripe tomato ready to pop.
“Ivan,” Cora breathes in warning.
She has mercy for the man who lunged for her, who shot at her—but I don’t. If he doesn’t do what I ask, he’ll die right here. Right now.
No one is going to touch Cora before I get the chance to figure out what is running through that gorgeous head of hers. What secrets are hiding behind those green eyes and pouty lips.
“S-sorry,” the man finally rasps out. His eyes are rolling back in his head as the word oozes out of him.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I let go and he sucks in air in great wheezing gulps. “Now, tell me why you shot at her.”
He hacks up a phlegmy cough. If he was going to live to see tomorrow, he’d be sore.
As it is, that won’t be a problem.
“Target practice.”
I growl in frustration, my hand itching towards his neck again. “Don’t fucking play with me, mudak. You know what I want to know.”
He presses a hand protectively to his neck and nods. “I was sent here to make sure she died…so you two couldn’t get married.”
Fuck. Cora is indeed involved—but it’s not because of anything she did.
It’s because of me.
“Married?” Cora spits. “We aren’t—Why would anyone think we were—Who sent you here?”
I lean forward, looking into the man’s bloodshot eyes. “Answer her question.”
He clenches his jaw. “I can’t. My family… They’ll all die. Every one of them. I can’t—”
I hold up a hand to silence him. “I understand family loyalty. You’re protecting them. There’s honor in that.”
Yasha shifts into view, an eyebrow raised. A question in his expression. Should I take Cora away first?
Probably. I don’t usually offer outsiders a front row seat to my criminal dealings. But I don’t want her any farther away from me than she is right now. Not until I know who is after her and why she might be after me.
I give a quick shake of my head and turn my attention back to the wannabe assassin in front of me.
“All I’ve ever done is for my family,” he says. “I needed the money. I don’t want to kill people, but I have to eat. You know?”
I nod. “I know. I understand. We all have to make tough choices.”
He sighs, relief rolling off of him. “I’m so glad you—”
“We also have to face the consequences of those choices.”
There’s a beat of hesitation. A blissful second where he doesn’t yet understand.
And then he does.
He stiffens, but it’s too late. The gun is in my hand and pressed to his temple before he can plead for his pathetic life.
The shot rings out.
Cora screams.
And the man who dared to hurt her goes slithering to the ground.