“What kind of job?” I ask, driven by a dark curiosity. “Another assassination?”
He stops and gives me an even look. “Do you really want to know?”
I hesitate, then nod. “Yes. I do.” It’s not as if I’m ignorant of what Peter is or what he does. I experienced his lethal skills firsthand the night we met. If some drug lord paid him and his team an obscene amount to take out another dangerous criminal, I might as well hear all about it.
If nothing else, it might be entertaining, in a horror flick/James Bond thriller kind of way.
“There’s a banker in Nigeria who’s stepped on some toes,” Peter says, reaching over to take my hand as he resumes walking. “One of those toes hired us to take care of the problem.”
“A banker? That doesn’t sound like someone who’d require your particular skillset.” Or like the ruthless crime lord I pictured. Not that I delude myself that Peter’s job is something noble. Still, some naïve part of me must’ve been hoping that most of his targets are at least somewhat deserving of what comes their way.
“This particular banker has a small army and pretty much owns the little town he lives in, as well as most of the local law enforcement,” Peter explains as we head toward a narrow trail I never noticed before. “By all indications, he’s one of the richest men in Nigeria, and he didn’t get there by making car loans.”
“Oh.” I readjust my mental image of the man. “So he’s not a nice guy?”
A humorless grin flashes across Peter’s face. “You could say that. At last count, he’s murdered over a dozen of his opponents and tortured or maimed at least fifty more, not counting their families. The man who hired us is a cousin of one of the victims; his daughter was gang-raped to teach his family a lesson.”
Horror constricts my throat, and I’m suddenly savagely glad Peter is going after this monster.
Glad and irrationally worried, because this is far more dangerous than I thought.
“How will you…?” I stop, not knowing how to phrase it.
“Get to him?”
I nod, glancing up at his coolly amused face. “Yes.”
“The usual way. We’ll find out everything we can about his security, learn his routines, and when the time is right, we’ll strike.”
I push down the irrational bubble of fear in my chest. Peter and his guys are highly trained, and in any case, it’s stupid to worry about the safety of the assassin who abducted me. Instead, I focus on what’s most relevant to my situation. “So you’re going to be gone for a while?”
“No, not unless something goes wrong. Anton and Yan will fly over there next week for reconnaissance, but Ilya and I will only get involved in the final stages of the operation. I’m guessing that will be in a week or two, and I shouldn’t be gone for more than a couple of days.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “What about me? Are you going to leave me here while you go to Nigeria?”
“Yan will stay behind with you,” Peter says, turning off the trail toward a clearing as I try to hide my disappointment. Despite what he told me the day of the storm, I haven’t completely given up on the idea of escape. Yes, he showed me that one cliff, and during our walks, I’ve seen a few more, but that doesn’t mean the entire mountain is impassable. There might be a way down that Peter doesn’t want me to know about, and given enough time and freedom, I might find it. What I would do afterward—how I would stay out of Peter’s clutches even if I made it back home—is a different matter, but I need to focus on one problem at a time.
I have to have some hope, or the despair will swallow me whole.
“Don’t you need your entire team?” I ask, doing my best to sound only mildly interested. “I thought you guys operated as a unit.”
“We do, but we’ll adjust.” Peter shoots me a sardonic look as we enter the clearing. “Don’t worry, ptichka. We won’t leave you stranded here alone.”
I don’t respond, because there’s no point—and because we’ve reached our destination: a cliff with a magnificent view of the lake below.
“Wow.” I exhale, taking in the stunning scenery as we stop a few feet from the cliff’s edge. “How gorgeous.”
After the rain of the past few days, the air is crystal clear, and the sky is a perfect pale blue, without a cloud in sight. In the absence of wind, the lake below us is so still it looks like a giant mirror, reflecting the majestic mountains surrounding it.
If I weren’t here against my will, I’d think it’s the prettiest place on Earth.
“Yes, gorgeous,” Peter agrees, his voice unusually husky as his hand tightens on mine, and I turn to see his metallic gaze burning with hunger. My heart skips a beat as answering heat ripples through my body, chasing away the high-altitude chill.