Chapter 4 Sadie
SADIE
Finishing a long day in the office with a workout in the gym made sense.
Deskwork was a mandatory part of my career, but boy, did I loathe it.
Being out in the field and actively searching for someone were what I enjoyed the most. But being out in the field and actively searching blindly were just stupid.
After Emil gave me the slip and sent me flying off to freaking Alaska instead of giving me a chance to tail him back to New York, I felt like I had nothing but dead ends to greet me. Searching online was fruitless. Informants in airports and with the NYPD were pointless.
Emil had gone back into hiding—or staying out of reach on the Dubinin properties he and his family owned. Previous experience had taught me to never expect to get close to where he called home.
How can a man who travels so often even have a sense of home?
After a warmup of a jog on the treadmill, which was more like child’s play with how much of a cardio junkie I was, I moved on to the free weights.
At five o’clock on a Friday, this whole floor of the gym was empty.
I had it all to myself, and I enjoyed the freedom to work out as much as I wanted to without having to suffer any stares, any creeps hitting on me, or any jealous coworkers taunting me into thinking I couldn’t run that hard for so long or that I couldn’t possibly bench or lift that much.
Newsflash, I can. I can do it all.
I’d never let it get to my head that I couldn’t do my job or be as fit as a man.
I knew the differences that I had to contend with.
Number one, being only five feet tall had its problems. Number two, never being able to really trade the fat for muscle on my slightly curvy physique was annoying.
And number three, having boobs wasn’t as fun as people would think.
Sports bras, above all other things, would always be my biggest nemesis.
Working out alone was exactly what I needed after a tedious day at my desk.
Sitting hunched over made me feel too tight and stiff.
Staring at a screen gave me a headache no amount of coffee could chase away.
And being on the phone and listening to pretty much all my informants tell me the same thing—that they hadn’t heard of Emil or seen him—I was full of hopelessness and boredom.
He won’t stay in one place for long. It’s just not possible.
According to my research and what other agents had previously found out, Emil Dubinin was my best shot to get close enough to the Dubinin Family for intel.
I spent months gathering and analyzing data from all the files on the biggest players in that family.
Luka Dubinin, as the boss, was out of reach.
No one would try to get him in custody. Then his nephews, Ivan and Alexsei, there was ample information about them, too.
But it was Emil, Luka’s son, who seemed like my best bet.
Not just because he moved around so much and could be caught with an interception during his travels—hopefully—but also because of all that he had to know.
Assassins had to be independent actors, easing in and out of locations to approach targets and take them out.
I had no doubt that if I brought Emil Dubinin in and let him stay in custody for lengthy interrogations, he’d be able to spill secrets about many individuals in the world of organized crime.
He could tell us about enemies and allies alike.
He could provide more answers to the questions we had about this Obsidian Eye alliance that was supposed to be forming.
I will be coming for you, Emil Dubinin. It’s only a matter of time.
Going through several reps with dumbbells, focusing first on my upper-body strength, I reflected on the latest that I’d learned, a clue that might be a big indicator of where Emil had been lately.
Sergei Romanoff was found dead yesterday. While no evidence was available to study at the scene, the former military man’s death was far too clean to be from natural causes. I’d bet my salary that Emil had killed him, but oddly, I couldn’t be too upset.
Emil was a hitman for his father. The Dubinins’ killer. A serious assassin.
Yet, when he killed other people on wanted lists, it was debatable whether he was doing something wrong or doing the world a favor.
Many of Emil’s kills were unsavory men I’d want behind bars or dead.
Rapists, gangsters, human traffickers, other crime bosses, and all sorts of deviants of society.
It was hard to feel guilty when another mobster or criminal was dealt with, but still, it wasn’t the correct way to go about it.
Justice couldn’t be delivered in a ruthless, rogue manner like that.
Still, when I learned of Romanoff’s death, I knew that the structural planning of the Obsidian Eye would be delayed. He was the rumored leader of the club, and now that he was dead, those interested in aligning would be set back even further.
Which was a good thing.
What wasn’t so good was the fact that if Emil had killed him, it meant that my main target had been in Prague, where Romanoff was found dead. And from there…
Hell, I’ve got no clue where he is now.
Half the trouble was finding Emil. Then the other part of my headache was staying on his tail.
With no heads up of who his next target could be, it often became a guessing game and nothing more. The only success I’d ever had was in analyzing who the Dubinins might be after and waiting near one of those targets.
But it was an unreliable process, one I was tiring of. For that reason alone, it seemed like it was taking forever to be able to predict anything about that man.
I just finished my routine with the dumbbells when I heard the door open.
Someone else was coming in, but at the sight of Aaron, a rookie in another department, I relaxed.
Dressed in gym gear, he was clearly here to work out.
Maybe to put on some muscle so he wasn’t as reed-thin and scrawny.
He wasn’t here to harass me, and that put me in a better mood.
“Hey,” I called out in a friendly greeting as I strapped on gear to spar with a punching bag. Hitting and kicking that sack of sand would lift my spirits even more.
“Oh, hey,” he replied, sounding exhausted and pissed all at once.
“Long day?” I guessed. Striking up a conversation wasn’t on my agenda, but being polite wasn’t a challenge.
“Long week,” he replied as he got onto a treadmill and began a slow walk.
“Ouch.”
My small talk and general, polite greeting seemed to be encouragement for him to talk some more. Before I knew it, he was using me as a sounding board, complaining about all the reasons his week had felt so long.
“It’s not like I made a mistake. It was a stakeout. And come on, it’s not like anyone knew I was there or would be there.”
“Hmm-mmm,” I answered without breaking a stride or pausing in my kickboxing. Replying with a noncommittal sound seemed polite, too, so he’d know I was sort of listening.
Agents from different departments didn’t necessarily merge or blend. Talking about cases was something we had to gauge personally. Yeah, we were all on the same team, but secrets and confidentiality were huge factors in knowing when to run your mouth. Even to a coworker.
But I had already heard about his case and how his cover had been blown.
Calling it a “mistake” wasn’t something I’d do, but he was right about the whole thing going belly up.
With his being a rookie, he was starting out simple.
But still, something complicated had really thrown a wrench in his case and how he’d been trying to stake out his perp.
“Yeah, but, Aaron—”
He groaned, hanging his head until his chin dipped enough that it touched his chest. Still walking slowly on the treadmill, he seemed to be warming up to a walk and nothing more. Or he was too glad to have found me to hear him out.
“I know, I know,” he whined.
“Never leave your drink unattended,” I finished anyway.
He’d been on a stakeout and followed his target into a club.
But that was his downfall. He was drugged, then mugged, and it almost sounded like he was nearly sexually assaulted before someone else came in as backup when they couldn’t reach him.
“Seriously. That’s just Adulting 101.” I shrugged, using the gesture to stretch as well as toss him a sympathetic look.
“I know.” He blew out a deep breath. “And I only turned away from it for a moment. This gorgeous waitress was distracting me and—”
“And, that’s also in Adulting 101. Don’t ever let a pretty face distract you.”
He furrowed his brow, almost scowling at me. It wasn’t an expression of anger at me, but likely more of self-loathing. “I know. But come on, we’re all only human.”
I huffed. “Yeah. But still.”
“But still nothing. What happened to me could’ve happened to anyone. We’re all only human. Even you.”
I shook my head. “No. Nope. No way, Aaron.”
“You don’t think you’d ever make that kind of a mistake?” he challenged.
“No.” I cared too much about being the best agent that I could be to ever let an attractive person persuade me away from my duty.
Aaron would pay heavily for his mistake.
He was seduced by a waitress, got drugged, had his cover blown, was almost raped, and his target left the country to hide even better. That was not happening on my record.
“Not even…” He stopped the treadmill, looking at me directly with that baby face he had. He looked so young. So na?ve. Both things I wasn’t anymore. I'd spent too many years working here to be a rookie like him. I was only twenty-seven, but still, I had grown into my role more than he had.
“Not even what?” I asked, propping my fist on my hip.
“I’ve seen pictures of Dubinin,” he said with a shrug. “Even I can say—as a straight man—that he’s not bad-looking.”
I rolled my eyes.
He was wrong. So, so gravely wrong. I’d looked at so many photos of Emil Dubinin that the image of his smug face was branded on my retinas.
And he was hot. Sexy. Drop-dead, unbelievably handsome.
A hunk. A stud. A god among men. With a rugged bad-boy appeal, he was probably irresistible to many women—and men.
But he wasn’t going to distract me.
While I could absolutely admit he was good-looking, my confession would be nothing more than a visual appreciation of art.
That was it. I was only a human, like Aaron was trying to convince me, but the difference was that I wouldn’t be swayed by a pretty face.
A sexy assassin who practically oozed testosterone and confidence wouldn’t seduce me.
I shook my head, beginning the process of unraveling the wraps on my hands. “Nope.”
“Are you trying to say he’s not attractive?” Aaron asked, incredulous.
“No. He is. Objectively, I can agree to that. But his looks will not steer me from my mission.”
He laughed. Once, then twice, the second time with more irony. “I thought the same thing, Sadie. I took this job thinking nothing and no one would ever get the best of me.”
Yet, you fell. You caved.
“And I’m telling you…”He glanced around. “This is just between me and you, all right?”
I nodded, furrowing my brow.
“I still can’t believe it worked, that one hot woman could’ve tricked me away from my trick.”
I opened my mouth to reply with a platitude about not being too hard on himself, but he carried on.
“No. I’m not saying I wasn’t too weak. Yeah, I was weak to notice her, but she was really persuasive. Really intent on getting my attention. It seemed too… coincidental. Too forced. Like she’d been planted there to distract me, then someone else was expecting me to be there so they could drug me.”
I narrowed my eyes, hating that he would beat himself up like this with what-ifs. We all did it when a mission flopped.
“And no one, I mean no one, knew I was doing that stakeout except for my supervisor.” He raised his brows. “No one knew I’d be there but him.”
“Maybe someone was tailing you and you didn’t know.” That was plausible.
“No. I was in the office and then went straight to that club for the stakeout. No one followed me. I think I was set up.”
Damn. That was a hell of an accusation. “By your supervisor?”
He nodded, looking nauseated and nervous, rubbing his stomach like the anxiety was eating away at him from the inside out.
“Yeah. Because when I found a financial link that led to my supervisor and my target once having a business account together…” He shook his head and stared at the wall.
“Ever since I made that connection, I’ve been nervous about how deep the corruption goes around here. ”
“Those are strong words, Aaron. That’s a big accusation to make.”
He backed up a step, frowning. “One you didn’t hear from me. I’m just saying…”
I heard him just fine. I didn’t need him to repeat a single word.
Corruption within our own agency. I could never dismiss it as a possibility, but I refused to let it interfere with my life, with my goals and career.
I entered law enforcement and worked up to be an agent because my parents were killed in a gunfight between two Cartels.
Chasing after crime lords was a personal goal.
All my life, I’d carried this vendetta to make the world a safer place for everyone.
Not a single thing would stop me from doing that—not a potentially corrupt agency and not a too-handsome-for-his-own-good assassin, either.