Chapter 24 Target Practice
Target Practice
Anika
Viridescent eyes dappled with sunlight formed in her mind as a weightlessness swathed around her.
Her brain desperately sent signals to the rest of her body, but her muscles were unable to execute.
With her senses slowed and deadened, her extremities felt like they were encased in thick honey.
Tingles raced down her arms, fingertips twitching in anticipation yet…
Nothing.
She was trapped within her mind—a nightmare.
A darkened room with a single bulb above them filtered into focus. Her body was still immobile, frozen in time as Mikko’s face materialized. The brutal planes of his face were at odds with the emotion she swore she could see glimmering in his emerald eyes.
Do it. Do it. Do it.
Her arms were outstretched, feet planted while clammy palms gripped the knurling of a cool gun. Its barrel was firmly pointed at him, this moment forever cemented in time as neither of them moved.
He didn’t shake. Her hands didn’t tremble.
It was always like this; Mikko standing vulnerable before her in her mind just like she wanted. Just as she’d always imagined. But when it came time to pull the trigger, the gun heavy in her hand, she couldn’t do it.
Why?
She hated not being in control of her own actions—her own body betraying her.
And, in turn, disappointing her family.
WAKING WITH A start, her heart thudded against her ribcage with enough fervor that it was a miracle she hadn’t jolted awake sooner.
But now that her eyelids had cracked open, sleep evaded her; the warm embrace of her bed was suddenly too hot and stuffy.
The blankets wrapped around her legs as sweat collected on her skin and made the feel of her satin sheets unbearable.
The city lights still felt too bright even though they were dimmed from the foliage surrounding her house. And her thoughts were too loud.
In reality, she should be calm, settling into her schemes.
Everything was falling into place, her diligence of collecting information on Mikko Romanov to use it against him later was coming together.
Anika had her house, health, and job—a piece of stability soothing her mind when she felt she was losing everything to avenge her family.
At least at the end of the day, she could still support her mom if needed.
The only wild card was Levi.
After he’d left the night before, she’d promptly thrown her clothes in the washer, scrubbed her skin raw under the scalding stream of water in her shower, and brushed her teeth more times than she could count.
Even after all that, she still didn’t feel entirely clean.
It hadn’t gone farther than making out on her couch, but it still tainted her body and her house.
His borderline harassment that he cloaked in faux chivalrous gestures had ramped up after their dinner date.
While that might work on some people, Anika saw through Levi’s bullshit immediately.
While he fueled her ego, Anika wasn’t dull; despite their differences, Mikko and Levi worked closely together, Romanov Real Estate bringing together the worst of the worst, apparently. In reality, all of this was for Mikko.
Then there were Levi’s ways of showing up when she least expected it, or when she hadn’t given him any clues as to where she would be making her skin prickle with unease.
He was Mikko’s little puppet, going where he commanded, but Anika wished Mr. Romanov would grow some balls and come to her himself.
Things would be much more fun.
It was all a necessary evil, a way to kill two birds with one stone.
Draw Levi in and see what useful information he would divulge about Romanov Real Estate, and in turn its CEO.
Mikko had resources to watch her, stalk her, and blackmail her.
He’d already begun, exacting tasks he thought she wouldn’t notice, but he was daft if he believed he could win that battle.
The unknown number texting her was him, the miscellaneous beauty items he’d snatched up, and the missing scarf from her coat rack near the entry door was courtesy of him as well.
Now if only he could get close enough for her to tear apart…
Turning over and kicking off her blankets, Anika’s mind wandered even more.
Her previous knowledge of Mikko gave her reassurance.
While Levi was still a mystery to her, Mikko was not.
As much as he pretended to be stoic and unreadable, she’d seen the tumultuous waves of emotions in his eyes at Bubblegum.
And their multiple interactions after that.
She’d done enough research to write a paper about him.
Not that I’d tell anyone…
Mikko was a rich, real estate developer; eligible bachelor but allegedly refused to date; lover of nice cars and motorcycles; scarce number of friends; and a recluse despite him being his father’s successor.
But at night, well, that was when the real Mikko emerged.
On the surface, he shed the corporate clothing in favor of his motorcycle gear—something he thought protected him both physically and mentally.
The night he’d shown up outside her gym resurfaced, a small smile gracing her lips.
He thought he was so slick, so intimidating, but Anika only felt contempt toward him.
Let him come close, let him think he has a chance.
But beyond that, the real estate facade faded away, replaced by organized crime—a detail Anika had stumbled across years ago when she’d let her curiosity and repressed hatred loose. It was another piece to her puzzle; this city was one Alek Romanov had cultivated.
The same one that took her dad and injured her mom.
Sweat slicked hands clenched the satin pillow next to her, her anger spiking.
You’re not that little girl anymore, she internally coached, you’ve got knowledge and weapons at your disposal now.
Those words did little to calm her racing heart.
Glancing at the clock, Anika determined five in the morning was the perfect time to get up and head to the gun range.
If I can’t pull the trigger in my dreams, I better keep practicing.
* * *
BANG! CLANK.
Bang! Clink.
The firearm recoiled against Anika’s palms as she stood with her feet firmly planted. Its force was a welcomed reminder that she was in control—that she could do what she needed to when the time came.
Right? Right.
Besides, she’d done months of research, learning the parts of a gun, how to clean and disassemble it, looked into gun safety classes, and now regularly came to the range to fine tune her aim.
Nothing but her own nerves stood in her way.
But even those were dissipating with each “good job” the people at the facility showered her with when she came in with a blank target and left with one riddled with holes.
Removing her finger from the trigger, she carefully set the gun down, content to take a breather. The padded table in front of her was littered with stray shell casings and more ammunition should she need it.
An occasional bang echoed in the range, a few other people occupying the lanes around her. Her ear protection prevented the sound from being overly loud. They muffled the world in a way she relished. Right now, it was her and the target in front of—
“I’d hate to be on the other end of you,” a familiar voice said from behind her. The decibel was low enough that her ear protection allowed for it to register. Anika’s fingers stilled, the tips of them hovering over the bullets she was currently loading into the clip.
Without turning she said, “I usually have the opposite effect.”
Mikko chuckled. “Noted.”
Finally shifting in the small area, Anika set her things down before turning to look at the man before her. He stood a couple feet away, arms crossed across his chest. If he thought the distance between them would convey he wasn’t a threat, he was wrong.
That, or he was wary of her shooting him right then and there.
Tempting…
He was dressed in casual clothes: dark denim jeans and a black long-sleeved Henley. Despite her dislike for him, the shirt did wonders for his physique, but she made sure not to let her gaze linger, not wanting to give him any more fuel to approach her.
And those eyes, the ones she’d dreamt about, the ones sending her here in the first place, were slightly hidden in the shadow of a ball cap slung low on his head.
His unruly ebony locks peeked out from under the rim signaling he’d woken up and came straight here.
Similar over-the-ear protection sat atop his head, blocking out the harsh gunshots, but allowed for them to talk.
“Are you following me?” she asked abruptly, needing something to distract her.
“No, you just happen to go to the same places I do.”
Anika glanced down at the shooting bag near his feet, dropped there as if he owned this lane. He probably did; he had enough money to own anyone or anything in the city if he really wanted. The logo on the bag matched the one of the range which had her brow quirking.
Her teeth clenched momentarily. “I’m afraid I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Funny you should say that, neither do I. Although,” he glanced around, “we are in a public space, Anika. It isn’t following if we show up at the same place.”
Her brain caught on the use of her name, the invasion of privacy making her spine straighten.
She’d never get used to hearing it, especially when she never gave it to him in the first place.
But it was a necessary sacrifice. In order to win this game of cat and mouse, she had to invite in his attention.
She’d summoned his scrutiny when she’d approached him all those weeks ago, but it still didn’t soften the vulnerable feeling curling in the pit of her stomach.
“Is that what you told yourself when you laid in wait for me outside my gym, by my car?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His grin said otherwise.
“You’re a bad liar,” she sneered.
“And you’re a bad shot,” he fired back with a nod to her hanging target behind her.