Chapter 2
There was no turning back. Though Reyna had known that the moment she joined the Saints five years earlier. The pearl dangling from her earlobe brushed against her neck as she made her way up to the balcony seats.
At one time, she would’ve been ecstatic to attend the ballet. She’d always loved to watch dancers. While she’d been in a few classes when she was a child, it had soon become apparent that she didn’t have the skill for it. Yet she remained because her love for it was so strong.
Perhaps if she’d known her skills lay elsewhere at such a young age, she would’ve left dance.
Her gaze was trained on the stage and the closed burgundy velvet curtains, but her mind was going through her plan.
There was no fear or excitement within her like there used to be before such a mission.
Her first twenty or so assignments, she’d vomited before each one.
Once she’d settled into her role, the fear and anxiety turned to anticipation and exhilaration.
She was dead inside now. Had been for some time.
The lights flickered twice to alert everyone that the show was about to begin. Reyna drew in a deep breath as the lights lowered and the first strings of music from the orchestra filled the air.
For the next forty-five minutes, she let herself pretend that she was a normal person taking in a ballet like everyone else. The music, the performers, the dancing was all magical. She wanted nothing more than to watch the rest of the show.
But her internal clock reminded her that her desires didn’t matter. Reyna got to her feet and made her way past other patrons to the aisle. She then walked out of the doors and turned right.
After a quick glance around to make sure that no one was watching, she entered through a door marked STAFF ONLY. Holding her long skirt up, she quickly navigated the stairs in her stilettos.
When Reyna reached the bottom, four armed figures in solid black garb waited for her. One handed her a pistol. She took a moment to look at each of the men before giving a nod that set the night into motion.
One of the men spoke into a transceiver, letting the other groups know that the operation was a go. Reyna released the magazine of the gun and saw that it was still fully loaded with jacketed hollow point rounds.
She slid the magazine into the weapon and pulled back the slide. At that moment, her men were barring doors to make sure no one could get in or out of the theatre.
“Ma’am.”
That was her signal that it was time for the next step. Reyna didn’t want to interrupt the ballet. It reminded her of the world she’d been in before, the life she’d had. The dancers and the crowd watching were oblivious to the chaos that was about to descend.
She lifted her skirts again and continued down the remaining stairs that brought her backstage. The dancers making their way to the stage shrieked when they saw her and the black-clad men—and the weapons.
Reyna ignored them, knowing that the soldiers behind her would gather the stragglers. She kept walking, past the stage manager with her headset. She flashed a confused look when she saw Reyna.
Reyna met her gaze and lifted her finger to her lips as she strode past. The woman’s mouth fell open as her hands dropped to her sides, and the clipboard clattered loudly to the floor.
Reyna’s men rushed past her and onto the stage as Reyna stood in the wings, her gaze locked on that of Denys Stasiuk. He wasn’t her target. She was there to ensure that no one else tried to do anything heroic to save the day.
The disconnected sound of the orchestra as they quickly stopped playing was only overshadowed by the screams of the audience members. The dancers were too shocked to do more than try to leave the stage. But they were soon met with more men and guns.
Reyna waited as Emil walked out onto the stage, looking as if he owned the place. And for the next few minutes, he did. She didn’t listen as he began telling the crowd that he and his soldiers weren’t there to kill everyone. That they were after one man: Stasiuk.
Every eye in the theatre turned to the box where the politician sat.
All eyes, except for one person’s. Reyna zeroed in on the man casually sitting in the box directly below Stasiuk’s.
He sat too calmly. He wasn’t bothered by the screams, the men, or the guns.
Obviously, he was someone well acquainted with violence.
More telling was the way his gaze moved over each soldier as if memorizing their faces.
Reyna didn’t know if he worked for Stasiuk or if he just happened to be at the ballet, but men like him were exactly the reason she was there.
She needed to get rid of him before he compromised the mission and unraveled everything she had worked for.
Not once did she think he was a Saint, because she was in charge of the mission and knew every individual from the society there.
She smiled when the man moved quickly and silently out of his seat and then disappeared from the box. Reyna took another moment to look at those in the theatre. She glanced at her counterpart on the other side of the stage and got a shake of the head to confirm that nothing was amiss.
Reyna whirled around and made her way back to the stairs. No doubt her target would try to come at them from the top. There were men up there, waiting for just such an attack, so she wasn’t worried.
Until she reached the top and found herself staring at two dead soldiers. Less than twenty feet away were another two, also deceased.
“Who are you?” she murmured about the unknown man.
She’d been right that he had gone up, but who did he work for? Few in the world actually knew who the Saints were or those who were part of the organization. Anyone who spoke out against them either intentionally or not was eliminated, swiftly and most times, violently.
Which is precisely what was happening to Stasiuk.
Except no one would know that the Saints were actually behind this takeover. Only Stasiuk and those who worked with him would know the truth. The rest of the world would believe they were some terrorist group who would be taken out the very night they showed up.
The quiet of the hallway didn’t bother her. She knew her target was near. Reyna glanced down at the two dead men at her feet before she walked to the second set. All four had been killed without a gun.
That didn’t mean the unknown man wasn’t armed. It only meant that he hadn’t wanted to bring attention to himself and give away his location. Reyna was shocked to feel a little flurry of interest in her stomach. She hadn’t had such a match in...a very long time.
She silently made her way to the next doorway and squatted down before slowly peering around the corner. There was no sign of the man. She waited a few more seconds, but still, nothing.
Reyna straightened and cautiously walked to the next door. She tested the doorknob, only to find it locked. Methodically, she checked each of the doors down the hallway. With every one she found locked, she knew she was closing in on him.
Except when she came to the last hallway and looked around the corner. There was no one. She narrowed her gaze. He was here. She knew it. And she would find him.
She turned her head to look back the way she’d come. Then she tried to imagine what she might do if she were in his shoes. Her lips turned up in a smile because she would hide until the coast was clear, and she could make her way down.
Reyna stepped through the doorway and flattened herself against the wall. It wouldn’t be sight that alerted her to his presence. It would be her hearing.
She closed her eyes and strained to hear every detail. She picked up Emil talking below, though she couldn’t hear his exact words. Minutes ticked by slowly, but still, she didn’t move. Then, the softest of clicks had her eyes flying open.
If she hadn’t been listening for it, she never would have heard it. She peered around the corner and saw a figure walk out of a room. His back was to her. Just as she was about to step around the corner, she saw him start to turn her way. Reyna ducked back out of sight before he could see her.
Reyna waited and then spun around the corner, lifting her gun. The man had his back to her once more. She spotted one of the Saints’ transceivers in his hand, so he knew where they were.
She lengthened her strides and stopped about ten feet from him. Then she pulled the hammer back on the gun. The click was shockingly loud in the space, but it had the effect she’d been going for.
“Don’t be a hero.”
She inwardly winced at her use of English. Reyna knew better than to make such a move. She repeated the statement in both Ukrainian and Russian as she stared at his thick, midnight hair and incredibly wide shoulders.
Then he turned to face her. She had seen his face from a distance, but it didn’t prepare her for an up-close viewing. He was sinfully attractive. From his piercing blue eyes to the hard-as-granite jawline to his lips.
For a heartbeat, she forgot where she was and what she was supposed to be doing as she became lost in his eyes. The sound of a gunshot below brought her back to the present.
“Who are you?” she asked in Russian since that seemed to be the dialect he responded to.
He twisted his lips and shrugged one shoulder.
She took a step closer and put her bag down, keeping the pistol aimed at his head. Then, she lowered it between his legs. “Don’t make me ask again.”
If it were possible, his eyes went even icier. Then, in a deep, rich voice he said in Russian, “My name does not matter.”
“Then tell me who sent you.”
His hands might be raised because she had a gun pointed at him, but he looked bored. “No one.”
As if she expected him to answer any differently. And even though she knew the next answer as well, she still asked, “Are you alone?”
“Da.”
Whether it was a lie or not, she couldn’t chance the mission going south. “It just isn’t your lucky day.”
She didn’t want to kill him, but she didn’t have another choice. Too much hinged on this night. Just as she was about to pull the trigger, the man shifted, coming right at her.
Before Reyna knew it, she was on the ground with the man on top of her. He knocked the gun from her hand and reached into his jacket, but she batted his arm away and got to the weapon first.
She slammed the butt of the pistol against his jaw, which only angered him and caused a muttering of cuss words to fall from his lips. Despite his size and bulk, she still managed to get on top once more. But she didn’t keep the advantage for more than a second before she was on the floor again.
Using all the hand-to-hand combat skills she’d acquired over her years of training, the two of them battled. He was good. Very good. Perhaps the best she’d ever encountered—and that said a lot.
But she had to win. She had to succeed. There was no other option.
It was that desperation that had gotten her this far. And it was what eventually showed her the opening to elbow him in the side of the head. The blow caused his body to slam against the wall, dazing him.
That was all she needed to get to her feet and have the gun pointed at him once more. She was breathing heavily as she found her footing and realized that she’d lost a shoe in the fight. But she was more worried about where her gun was than her heel.
A strand of hair fell into her face. She tasted blood in her mouth. The man had gotten off several good hits. She would be sore tomorrow.
“Hands up,” she told him.
He blinked several times. No doubt trying to stop the room from spinning. It gave her the opportunity she needed to find her gun. Now, with two weapons pointed at him, she met his gaze.
There was no anger at being defeated, no resignation at the thought of losing his life. Only an emptiness she knew all too well.
She slid her finger to the trigger, and yet she couldn’t seem to pull it. Never in her life had she hesitated. Why was she now? What was it about the man that brought back feelings she hadn’t felt in years?
“Slowly remove the rest of your weapons,” she ordered.
He blinked and gingerly pulled out another pistol and two knives that he then put on the floor and slid over to her.
After she’d picked up the gun and the blades and put them in her bag, she shifted to the side to get her shoe.
That’s when she saw the COM in his ear. The best solution would be for her to kill and forget him.
But it might be wiser to figure out who he was working for and how many others were there.
That kind of knowledge would get her right where she needed to be with the Saints.
“It seems luck is on your side, after all,” she told him.