Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
It wasn’t like the thought of putting the gun to Nick’s temple and squeezing the trigger was making his stomach churn to the point that he was positive he was going to vomit. Killing Nick didn’t make his heart skip and his throat tighten. The thought of not seeing Nick’s crooked smile didn’t make his head ache. No, he was fine. Everything was fine.
This was all just allergies. Maybe he was coming down with a cold or a summer flu. That had to be it.
There was no way he felt something for this lying jerk.
Lying jerk?
Alexei groaned and dropped his head into his hand. Things had definitely gone to shit far worse than other people hunting Nick.
He mentally sneered at the name. He didn’t look like a Nick. Didn’t feel like one. Soren had been such a better name.
“Alexei, huh?” Nick’s rough and husky voice broke the silence of the room, and Alexei’s heart skipped for a new reason.
He silently cursed himself and his heart. He apparently needed to see a doctor and have it checked. It was clear that Nick had been awake while he spoke to Marilyn. He’d have to find a way to use that to his advantage.
“Maybe we should start with introductions again, Nick,” he grumbled. He lifted his gaze to see that Nick was staring at him from across the room.
“Actually, it really is Soren. Soren Jessen. Nick Grant is the name I use when I’m working.”
“As a cat burglar,” he finished flatly.
Soren gave him a tight smile while his eyes remained flinty cold chips of blue-gray ice. “And what career did you choose, Angel?”
“I followed my uncle into the family business.” He pulled the gun from the holster under his shirt and the suppressor from his pocket. With a practiced ease, he screwed it onto the muzzle before placing it on the table with a heavy, metallic thud. “I’m an assassin, and yes, the name is Alexei. Alexei Prescott.”
Was it weird that he felt a warm swell of pride in the middle of his chest to finally come clean? But it was more than coming clean. It was admitting that he had family that he wanted to recognize. Part of him wanted the world to know he was Gabriel Prescott’s nephew and that he was worthy of the prestige that came with that name.
His grandfather, Nicolai Krestyanov, had been a total bastard. The hateful, homophobic man had nearly killed his own son, driven his daughter away, and probably would have killed his wife if given the chance. His uncle Sacha had been no better, nor his own father, Leonid, but he had few memories of his father prior to his sudden death.
In fact, other than his mother, grandmother, and uncle, there was no one else in the Krestyanov family he wanted anything to do with.
But Soren didn’t need to know he was formerly a Krestyanov. He was happy to let the world believe they’d all died off.
“Now that we’ve got proper introductions out of the way, I think we should get down to business. Where’s the hard drive?”
Soren glared at him. “So, this wasn’t a rescue? You didn’t want to simply talk to me at Gare du Nord?”
Alexei forced a laugh that didn’t come out sounding as light and carefree as he wanted. There was a taint of bitterness to it that had him cutting off the laugh suddenly. “I’m pretty sure you knew that when you saw me. Otherwise, why run?” Alexei shook his head. “No. In case you missed the first part, I’m an assassin. I’ve taken a contract that was put on your head. The contract holder wants you dead and the hard drive you stole from Gabor Kalman.”
“You were the one to kill Gabor?” Soren gasped and then fell into a string of violent curses. “Do you have any idea how difficult you’ve made my life?”
Alexei smirked and waved his hand to his current situation of being bound in a chair. “Yeah, I think I have a pretty good idea.”
“And what? You followed me from London? The whole sex and dinner thing was to get close to me, so it was easier to kill me?”
His smirk fell away, and his eyes dropped to the table. “No. That was a strange coincidence. The contract came in early this morning from the same person who ordered the hit on Kalman.”
“That’s it. You’re going to kill me after fucking me twice.”
Alexei shrugged and forced himself to meet Soren’s gaze. “It’s nothing personal.”
“Bullshit! This is extremely personal. I’m feeling very personal about the fact that you plan to fucking kill me!”
Alexei jumped to his feet and started to come around the coffee table that separated them. “Keep your voice down. I’d prefer it if my neighbors didn’t know my business.”
“Fuck you! How dare you fuck me and then try to kill me!”