Chapter 6
Chapter six
Alisa
This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
Still, I tried to smile in a seductive manner at the mobster approaching the bar.
After Gemma had shown me the picture of the man who’d followed her home and likely broken into her place, I’d done my own research.
It hadn’t been nearly as intensive as the research from the men that my father hired to look into my targets.
Those men could break into anyone’s computers and dig up all their secret interests.
Then they put them into a neat little list for me to construct the perfect appearance and preferences in order to lead the target to their death.
But those men weren’t at my beck and call. Just like everything else in my life, my father controlled them. And I certainly didn’t want my father to find out about this.
Especially because Igor Bocharov wasn’t just a typical mobster.
No, he was a member of a separate branch of the Bratva in New York City. The same branch that we had an extremely tenuous truce with.
The Morozov Bratva.
Our Pakhan and their Pakhan kept very clear delineations between their respective territories, because if the rival organizations' paths intersected…
Everything would combust.
Our Pakhan made it clear that if anyone were to strain that peace, it wouldn’t end well for the perpetrators.
My heart stuttered when Igor sat in the vacant seat beside me. His body was twice the size of my own, and he’d used it to kill and torture plenty of women. My research had determined it was a bit of a hobby for him, and I refused to allow Gemma to be his next victim.
Breathe.
I needed to be focused.
Especially since the mobster was currently staring down at me with cold eyes.
But I’d handled colder stares, and I wouldn’t beat a hasty retreat when Gemma needed me.
And she did need me to protect her. This dangerous man had strangled plenty of women with those massive arms.
Insidious anxiety snuck through my brain. The fact that I was recovering from more microdosing did nothing to suffocate it.
Still, I didn’t allow my internal thoughts to show on my extremely made up and disguised face.
“Whiskey neat,” I said to the bartender, aware that it was one of Igor’s favorites.
“Scotch,” he said to the bartender, his voice cold and controlled.
He leaned in closer. “What are you doing here, zaika?”
Little rabbit. The word was spoken in Russian and with a deep voice, yet it didn’t come close to triggering that lustful spite that my body seemed to reserve for Dmitri.
“Maybe, you’ll find out,” I said coyly, taking a small sip of the whiskey and wishing it was a Mai Tai.
His eyes took in my body, and I got the feeling he’d try to take everything he wanted whether I liked it or not. My brain told me all the reasons I should set down my drink and disengage.
I knew I should’ve waited longer to heal up after my recent dosage from Dr. Poison, but I didn’t know how long until he got bolder with Gemma. And from the amount of women he’d strangled to death, I knew the break-in was just the precursor.
I straightened my spine and leaned in closer to him. I couldn’t run away when I was the only one who could save her.
“Want a sip?”
He frowned. “Why?”
Too soon. I needed to slow things down.
“I’m trying to be generous,” I teased. “After all, I can’t help it if I have better taste in drinks.”
A tendon ticked in his neck, and his free hand tightened into a fist.
I braced myself and reminded myself that I could take a hit far better than Gemma could. Thankfully, one didn’t come.
He leaned back in his seat, but I could still see the tendon straining against his neck. “Stupid bitch,” he muttered in Russian.
Asshole.
I giggled like I had no idea what the word meant. Inside, I was imagining the look on his face when my poison stole his last breaths.
Over the next twenty minutes, I let him lead the conversation, and predictably it revolved around him.
When he grabbed my arm and tugged me out of my seat, I only hesitated for a moment.
He hadn’t been unfocused enough for me to slip something into his drink, and his eyes had hardened when I tried to silently offer him a sip of mine.
Unfortunately, the only one who was weakened from the poison I’d slipped into my own drink was me. Thankfully, this was one that I’d developed a tolerance to.
Still the last thing I should do was follow him out into the night.
But I’d seen the hard-on, and manic energy growing in his eyes the longer we sat together. I couldn’t take the chance he’d stalk off to Gemma’s if I left him now.
I’d once been the girl who’d had no one to save her when she needed them. I refused to let Gemma experience the same fate.
So I reluctantly broke my rule about second locations, and followed behind him. Already planning how I’d fix the drinks when we got to his place and knock him out before he could touch me.
Suddenly, his grip tightened on my wrist, and he wrenched me into a dark alley.
“Wait,” I said.
Igor wrapped his hand around my throat.
“Shut the fuck up,” he said, glaring down at me.
I tried to reach for a small vial with a microneedle I always kept in the pockets of my outfits. Generally, I avoided this tactic since it was hard to accurately pierce a target’s clothing to deliver the dosage.
And if you got caught…
That never ended well.
His hand tightened around my throat. I didn’t exactly have a choice now.
I reached for my pocket, but his free hand caught my wrist and slammed it above me.
“Now why is Alisa Solovyova trying to get close to me?” he said with a smile that froze my body.
My heart thudded in my chest. Igor knew who I was even though I’d worn a wig, and makeup to conceal myself. Had he been following me?
“I’m going to enjoy killing such a pretty little thing,” he said, and I could tell he meant it from the depths of his soul.
I tried to grab for the vial with my free hand. Before I could make contact, he slammed my head against a brick wall. My vision swam. He took the opportunity to force both my hands above my head.
Through the pain, I kicked him in the crotch. His hand loosened around my throat as he howled in pain. I tried to dash around him, but he grabbed a combination of my hair and wig. Then pulled me into him.
I thrashed against him, blindly jabbing my elbows against vulnerable sections of his body. But when he started laughing, fear slithered through me.
“Release her, or I’ll cut off your hands,” a chilling voice echoed from the front of the alley.
Igor’s grip loosened around my hair, and my head whipped towards the voice.
Shadows swarmed Dmitri as he stepped into the alley, anger gleaming in his darkening eyes.