With regards to Mink, our hackers couldn’t dig up much. Her name came up here and there, mostly in outsourced government assassinations, but there’s nothing concrete. Her jobs must’ve been strictly by word of mouth.
“I’m ready,” my little assassin says.
I look up, studying her with new admiration. What she accomplished isn’t easy. No one understands what it takes better than I do. Not for the first time, I wish things could’ve been different between us. The logical part of me knows loyalty doesn’t exist for our kind—we’re ruled by money—but the unreasonable part of me doesn’t care. It only cares that I meant little enough for her to frame me.
Sometimes, things just are what they are.
I get to my feet. “Let’s go.”
Taking the heavy case from her, I lock it in the trunk and drive us to the Hotel Paris. On the outside, the building looks like a Bohemian castle, but it only dates back to 1904.
We walk inside like we own the place. When in Rome and all that. That’s how you attract the least attention. The foyer shows the appropriate amount of luxury. I count the ceiling cameras and number of security personnel on the floor. Then I check the emergency exit and staff entrance while Mina takes what will appear to be tourist photos with my phone.
Approaching the concierge, I query the availability of the Gustave Klimt suite without asking for the price, and tip the guy. Not so outrageously as to be remembered. Just enough to sink away in the sea of the norm in his memory. Then we make our way to the bar.
We sit down at a table in the back, and I order two beers while we wait for Ilya and Anton. I use the time to send further instructions to our hackers, asking for whereabouts of Natasha Petrova, as well as her future schedule. She’s a social butterfly. It should be fairly easy to pin her down at any given time.
Mina sits quietly next to me. She hasn’t touched her beer. It’s a warm day, nice weather outside. Yet despite the sunshine, she looks pale.
I drag my beer closer. “Not thirsty?” Taking a sip, I study her carefully over the rim of my glass.
She looks at me quickly, as if she’s forgotten about my presence. No, she’ll never forget why she’s here or who she’s with. She was somewhere else, somewhere deep in her mind.
She forces a smile. “Just tired.”
The tension in my chest gives a fraction at the reasonable explanation. “It’s the drugs.” They should’ve been out of her system by now, but she’s tiny. The effect will last longer.
I order a smorgasbord and push it toward her when it arrives. At my insistence, she nibbles unenthusiastically on a tiny lox sandwich.
Just before one, Anton and Ilya walk in. They join us at our table and order beers. By the time they’ve filled me in on their observations, they’ve cleaned the plate I ordered, so I get the bar lunch next. Mina has to eat.
A brunette enters and sits down at the bar counter. She’s classically beautiful. Expensive dress. She leans over and says something to the bartender. Drumming her red fingernails on the countertop, she turns on her seat to scan the room. I pay attention, because it’s my job. Paying attention means the difference between life and death. This isn’t death. I know her type. Her gaze lands on me. She makes direct eye contact and smiles.
Draping my arm over the back of Mina’s chair, I lift a finger to caress her ear. I trace every silver hoop pierced through the shell before dropping my hand to her neck to stroke the outline of the hummingbird tattoo.
At the rejection, the woman turns her attention to Ilya. It doesn’t take him long to catch on.
“Excuse me.” He pushes back his chair and saunters to the bar.
They strike up a conversation as her drink arrives. By the time her glass is empty, Ilya’s arm is around her shoulder. It’s a pose I know well. We’ve played the game together enough times. They order a round of shooters. And another. My brother glances at me, and the brunette follows his gaze. He says something, and she gets up.
Anton stops talking when she comes over to our table and takes Ilya’s seat.
Placing a hand on my leg, she smiles brightly. “Hi, handsome. I hear I’m up for double the fun.”
I remove her hand. “You heard wrong.”
She pouts. “And here I was getting all excited. Your brother over there is paying for the room. You may as well”—her voice drops an octave—“take advantage.”
Next to me, Mina goes rigid.
“What’s wrong?” Anton mocks. “You can’t disappoint the lady’s fantasy. Go if you like. I’ll keep our guest occupied.” At guest, he looks at Mina.
Fucking Ilya. I’m going to kill him. And then Anton, too.
In a few strides, I’m at the bar and in my brother’s face. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“What we always do. Why does that surprise you?”
“You’re acting like a moron.”
“I’m not behaving differently than normal. You are.”
The shooters must’ve gone to his thick head. “That”—I point at the brunette who’s still sitting at our table—“was unwarranted.”
His gaze narrows. “You’re fucking exclusively now?”
“How I fuck is none of your business.”
“Are you trying to push me away? Is that it?”
“What?” I stare at him in disbelief. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“No.” His tone is bitter. “It doesn’t. That’s the whole point.”
“What the fuck?” Did my brother smoke something? “What are you talking about?”
“You know what? Stuff it. I’m taking her upstairs and fucking her. Join us if you want, or don’t. I don’t care. At least I was willing to share.”
“What is this? You give me something so I have to give something back?” I grab his arm. “Nothing you do will ever convince me to
