As they pulled to the curb, the sound of sirens split through the night. But Alek paid no attention as they opened and closed doors and settled into the Kombat. He was too busy coming to terms with something.
At this point in his life, embracing the title his uncle had been proposing for years would offer Sacha and their daughter an extra layer of protection. It was that realization that had Alek finally making the decision to accept it. He would give his uncle the okay to announce the appointment.
But he would run it by Sacha first because that’s what life partners did.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Sergei watched from five rows of vehicles away as the Range Rover pulled into a numbered parking spot. It was quiet in the underground lot, and he was able to hear the expensive SUV idle for a moment before the engine was shut down. The brake lights went off.
Feeling hollow inside, which was not unusual, he took one more look around then brought his favored long-range sniper rifle up. He angled the Lapua so the tip of the barrel rested in the open window, settled his finger on that trigger he was so familiar with, and he waited.
How many times had he done this? Too many. First in Russia, now here in the States.
The driver of the luxury vehicle opened the door and slid out. Not the owner of the vehicle. Not a surprise. Sergei had already known he wasn’t taking out the owner. He was starting a war.
He bent his neck slightly and put his eye to the scope, blinking, completely relaxed.
As Markus Fane straightened from retrieving a briefcase from the confines of the truck, a steady red dot appeared on the back of his neck.
With the slightest pressure, the trigger was pulled. The suppressor did its job by smothering the sound of the shot. He felt nothing when Markus went down. But then, it wasn’t necessary on his part to feel, because there would be more than enough sorrow in their world in the next few hours when word got out that this man was no longer with them. This particular death would cause a damning ripple effect that would reach all the families.
It would have been interesting to witness, he thought as he placed the rifle on the floor behind his seat. But his final job would make that impossible. It was too bad because he’d begun to wonder who would come out on top when those left went head-to-head.
Moretti, Tarasov, or Fane.
His interest in the answer faded away as he started the car and left the scene before security once more did their rounds of the parking garage and found his latest victim. He had a few more stops to make, and then he had to confirm the attendance list for the coming party.
♦ ♦ ♦
After a meeting with Vasily that had him detailing everything he’d learned, Alek had made his way upstairs. He’d found Sacha in Lekzi’s room, wide awake, rocking away with the baby on her chest. After wheeling the crib into their bedroom, he’d insisted she put Lekzi down before gangrene set into her arms. He’d massaged her shoulders, and as she’d winced through his ministrations, he’d told her about Sergei and Reynard.
Now, she was sitting against the headboard, her knees up, her arms wrapped around them. He’d been waiting for long minutes to hear what she had to say about the murder he’d committed tonight.
“I am…”
She stopped again and he moved closer to slip his fingers around her slender ankle. Her voice was raspy, her eyes smudged with fatigue.
“I am glad he is dead,” she rushed out. “Very glad. I wish I could have hurt him personally before you dropped him.” She looked at the baby. “It is frightening that men like that exist.”
“I know.”
His phone going off startled them both. He snapped it off the nightstand and turned it over to see his uncle’s number. “Yeah.”
“Get dressed and downstairs. Now.”
Alarm nailed him square in the face at both Vasily’s tone and the order. He hung up and stood.
Sacha’s brows popped. “Where are you going?”
He took the time to lean over and kiss her, working her mouth until her lips softened against his. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling it needed to be voiced again. “This isn’t how our life is. You know that. This isn’t the norm.” What if she wanted to leave? What the fuck would he do without her? Without his daughter? He kissed her once more. “Vasily needs me downstairs. I’ll text you if I have to leave.” As quietly as he could, he dashed out the door.
He jogged down the corridor, nodded at Grigori who was in his cubby at the top of the stairs, and headed down. He nearly missed a step when he saw his uncle, Dmitri, and Anton standing by the door.
“What happened?” His apprehension grew at the grief he saw in Vasily’s eyes when he came over and pulled him into a tight embrace. He hugged him back. “What is it, Vasya?”