16. Alik

16

ALIK

I ’m pulled from a deep sleep by a gentle hand combing my hair along my forehead.

“Alik,” Olive whispers. Her voice is soft, angelic, and I don’t open my eyes to it. If anything, it only serves to soothe me back to desperately needed sleep.

“You have to get up, baby. Someone’s at the door.”

My eyes pop open, and I shoot up in bed, jerking my head toward the door when an angry knock booms from the living room. If I had time, I would scold Olive for her overly calm demeanor, but I don’t, so I jump out of bed and stride to the door, pausing at the bedroom entrance to turn to her. “Do not leave this room.”

Her head tilts like she’s questioning the command, but she sits on the bed, crossing one leg over the other before steepling her fingers.

I click the bedroom door shut then stride to the front door and fling it open just as another chorus of angry knocks start up again.

Nikita stands with his cane hovering in the air like he was using it to knock, and when our eyes meet, he lowers it to the floor. His expression blank, he moves his gaze to my bare chest and shorts then back up to my messy hair.

Shit.

“You’re not answering your phone.”

He’s been calling me?

Have I been sleeping that hard?

“I didn’t realize you’d called, sir. It wasn’t intentional.”

He lifts a shoulder, his lips snarling slightly. “Have I ever been one to care about intentionality?”

My eyes find his hands on instinct to search for a blade, but I know better. If he has one, it’ll be tucked away.

Does he care about intentionality? If he does, it never shows.

“No, sir.”

He’s also not one to show up at my place. Or anywhere alone.

What is he doing here?

Why didn’t he send someone else?

I check his hands again.

“Are you going to let me in, or do you want to pat me down first?”

Clearing my throat, I lift my eyes to his and step aside. He wanders inside my apartment and looks around until he finds the gun pulled apart on my table. I narrow my eyes at the pieces of metal spread out on a rag with another cloth beside them.

Was Olive cleaning it?

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” he says, staring at the pan of cookies on the stove next.

Cookies.

I look like I’ve been here, ignoring my boss’s calls, baking cookies.

If he doesn’t kill me, I might.

“Last night, I hit a bit of a roadblock with the work you gave me, sir. Sometimes, I think better while high.”

He turns to me with a brow raised.

“I was up all night. I, uh, I must’ve passed out this afternoon.” When I glance at the window, it’s dark. “I’m sorry I missed your calls.”

“Did it work?”

I lift my chin. “Hmm?”

“Did getting high and sleeping the day away help you find Vitaly? I hope so because?—”

“No,” I say before he can finish his threat.

His nostrils flare, but when he opens his mouth, I interrupt a second time.

“Give me twenty-four more hours. I’ll find him by then. You have my word.”

A long beat passes before his cane stabs the floor, and he looks around my apartment again, considering my offer. I can tell he isn’t happy about it. A muscle jumps in his cheek, and his eyes are fiery. But he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“You’re one disappointment after the next lately,” he says, almost under his breath. “Why should you get more time?”

“Because as you said, intentionality means nothing to you, sir. You care about results. And despite my poor performance recently, there isn’t anyone who can get you what you want any faster than I can.”

He scoffs, but we both know I’m right.

Seconds pass while he tries to make me sweat, but it isn’t until his eyes land on my bedroom door that my heart skips.

I haven’t felt a trickle of anxiety at his threats. Working with Nikita, you get used to them. You learn to suppress your fear. The man can sniff it out like a bloodhound, and when he senses your weakness, he’ll never respect you. Then you really are in danger.

But when I spot the door that I distinctly remember shutting cracked open, Nikita’s gaze glued to it, fear prickles my ears.

He would kill me for disappointing him, I have no question about that. He prefers knives, so I’d predict a few stabs to the stomach, similar to how Purple Lips died. If he knew I betrayed him, he would take his time with it, still with a knife, probably with an audience.

But her… If he found Olive…

She would suffer a much worse fate.

I consider my gun that’s pulled apart on my table and rule it out in an instance before searching along my kitchen countertop for a weapon. Of course, I don’t need one. I could disarm him easily as long as he didn’t catch me off guard. My guard is never lowered while in the presence of Nikita.

“Fine,” he says at last, breaking up my thoughts.

I force eye contact only for him to turn and wander farther into my living room, too close to my bedroom door for my comfort. I turn to my kitchen knife block but force myself to walk the opposite direction, following Nikita.

“Twenty-four hours and not a second more. If you can’t find him by then, you aren’t nearly as good as you think you are.”

Because the last decade hasn’t been enough to prove myself.

“You have my word, sir.”

I stare at the gap in the bedroom door, searching for Olive, and am the slightest bit relieved when I don’t see her. I don’t allow myself too much relief yet.

“I was hoping you’d be available by now to fix our other problem. I imagine Sergey has filled you in on the details?”

It takes everything in me not to glance at the door again.

Sergey filled me in. Nikita sent him and two others after Olive when Nikita hadn’t gotten word that the Irish were going after her. He’s an impatient bastard.

How long before he demands I find the man protecting Olive?

Why would he?

It’s not our goddamn problem anymore. It’s the Irish’s.

Except… The man protecting Olive killed one of ours. And the Bratva is thirsty for revenge. Nikita might not care about a brother’s death, but Sergey and the others do, and even if Nikita doesn’t send me after myself, they’ll be looking for me. They probably already are.

This is a clusterfuck, and I have no idea what I’ll say when I’m asked to solve it.

“Yes, sir.”

He walks to my window to peer out. “I have a meeting with Cormac and Settimo in a couple of hours to discuss the matter. I want you there.”

My muscles stiffen, but when I open my mouth to argue, I catch myself. If he’s having me put off my search for Vitaly to stand guard at his meeting, it’s for a reason. He’s nervous.

Does he think Cormac, the Irish boss, figured out we set the girl up to rat on his operation? One of these days, Nikita is going to suffer an assassination attempt. This would be a good reason for one.

“Of course, sir.”

This is why he really came, isn’t it?

Coward .

“The car will be waiting for you downstairs at ten thirty.” He turns away from the window and starts toward the door without another look my way. “Don’t be late.”

When I hear the click of the door behind him, I close my eyes on a long exhale, the tension in my neck unwinding.

Footsteps pad on the carpet, and I open my eyes to glare at Olive as she sashays my way.

“Who was that?” she asks, her voice soft and innocent as she tucks loose strands of hair behind her ears. The rest is up in a ponytail, and all she has on is a sports bra and a pair of my sweats. She looks hot. I can see that even through my anger, but not even her exposed flesh can distract me.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” I walk until I’m towering over her and stab a finger at the bedroom. “Why the hell would you open the door? Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if he’d seen you?”

She looks over her shoulder at the door. “I just wanted to hear. I wasn’t?—”

“I’ve welcomed you into my home, and you disrespect me by openly spying on my conversations?” My molars grind to catch the anger bubbling up my throat, threatening to spew over her. It isn’t all her fault. I know it’s mostly an overreaction.

But that conversation could’ve gone differently. Nikita could’ve said her name, laid out details, something to unveil to her who I really am, what I’ve done.

It was a close call.

She stumbles backward, one hand clasping her arm as her head bows. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to disrespect you.”

The softness of her voice is a gut punch that unclenches my teeth.

“I’ve told you before, I’m in the criminal world. Everyone knows each other. If someone saw you here, they could?—”

“Tell your boss?” She pokes her head up to peek at me. “Or your Russian friends? They’re the ones who want me dead, aren’t they?”

My breath catches.

How does she?—

“Except, that was your boss, wasn’t it? So he wouldn’t really need to tell anyone. He could just kill me himself or tell you to do it like he told you to kill all those other people.”

My jaw slackens, but when the smirk sprouts on her pink lips, I let out a sigh. “You’re not Olive.”

She shakes her head.

Although I must’ve slept for hours, exhaustion overwhelms me as I run a hand over my face. I turn my back on the woman and brace myself on my desk.

“I’m not going to tell her it’s your organization who is out to hurt her. To be honest, I figured that out even before I saw your face when you took the mask off the friend you shot. I think it’s noble that you’re willing to kill your own in order to protect her, and I wouldn’t take a chance on her not understanding that.”

“What do you want me to say to you? Thanks?”

My guard raises as she nears, but I don’t turn around, even as the muscles in my arms bracing me on my desk wind tight. I watch her peer up at me in my periphery.

“I’d like to know why they want to kill her.”

Soft voice again. I thought she was pretending to be Olive before, but maybe not. Maybe that’s part of who she is.

I consider lying to her or shutting her out, but I can’t see the harm it could do for her to know. On the contrary, she could lose her shit if I anger her. She’s proven to be more destructive than I can anticipate.

“What happens if I don’t tell you? You gonna frame me for something else?”

“No,” she whispers, her hand reaching for me. She pauses just before touching my arm then pulls her hand away. “Alik, I… I don’t want to hurt you. I have a responsibility to protect Olive the same as you have a responsibility to protect yourself. You would’ve killed her if I hadn’t taken precautions.”

“I would’ve killed you .”

“It’s the same thing. I think you’re smart enough to realize that.”

My face stiff, I turn to her.

“Please?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest after she goes to touch me again, as if she’s trying to fight the impulse. “I just want to understand.”

This is insane. It is.

Olive assured me she’d still be her. She can’t control when this bitch comes out. She’s dangerous . A walking threat, swinging those sexy hips through my house. Staring at this woman’s sweet face, knowing it’s the same person who viciously attacked a woman last night, I can’t help but want to laugh at myself for the fear I felt minutes ago.

But I still feel it. I still don’t want Olive harmed. I feel the strange responsibility to her this psycho is describing.

I’m fucked. On all accounts.

Letting my face relax, I push off the desk and walk to the couch. Olive 2.0 follows me, carefully sitting down beside me after I crash.

“The DEA is targeting the Bratva.”

Her brows furrow, but she slowly nods. “And they want to send a message to Olive’s father?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?” The woman shifts toward me and frowns. “Really? I could’ve helped you with that in a second if you’d asked.”

“How?” One side of my lips lifts as I lean back on the couch. “Would you have asked him nicely to back off?”

“ No , I would’ve done a hell of a lot more to pull his attention to another organization. But not by testifying. That was a suicide mission you put her on. And that she put herself on, for that matter. I tried telling her it wasn’t the way to go when she was filming that exchange with the Irish mobster, but she wouldn’t listen. The bitch wouldn’t even hear me out before she erased my part of the tape.”

Rolling my neck, I let that sink in. “So then it isn’t just when she goes to sleep that you come out.”

“No. I take over when she needs me. Even if she only realizes it subconsciously… But don’t feel like she’s lying to you. She doesn’t have any memory of this, so she doesn’t know.”

“But she knew about the tape. She knew she’d been awake when you took over then.”

Her head tilts, and she pushes hair back when it falls in her eyes. “Give her a break, Alik. You’re an assassin and had no idea I existed for the past six months. I hide from her better than I ever hid from you.”

I stare at her a few moments before letting my chest deflate.

All my instincts… All my precautions…

This woman tiptoed around every signal I have.

She’s right… She’s good. She might even be better than me.

“Why did she need you today?” I ask, my head lazily leaned against the couch as I peer at her.

She bites her lip and looks away. For a moment, she almost looks like Olive.

“Well, I guess she didn’t need me, per se, this time. Your phone went off, and you know how jumpy she gets. When she’s scared or high, it’s easier to take control, and normally, I resist, but… I didn’t like the way we left things. I needed to see you again, to make things right.”

“Did you turn off my phone?”

My eyes widen when she shrugs.

“You were exhausted.” She purses her lips. “You needed to sleep.”

“You can’t just?—”

“I won’t,” she cuts me off, scooting closer to me. “I’ll never turn it off again. I promise.”

I close my mouth and look up at the ceiling as I lean my head back, my teeth clamped. When her shoulder brushes my arm, I tense but don’t say anything.

“Who’s Vitaly?”

I ignore the question and keep staring at the ceiling.

If this alter can take over, can Olive take the reins back? How long before that happens?

“What happens if you can’t find him before the time is up?”

Still, I say nothing.

She puts a delicate hand on my shoulder. “Please,” she says, her voice small. “Don’t shut me out. I just want to help.”

“You can’t.”

“I may be able to. You never know.”

“He’s an old friend who was recently released from prison and is currently hiding out somewhere in Russia. You can’t find him. I’m not so sure I can even find him.” I angle my shoulder away so she’ll get her hand off me, and when she does, tension winds between us. Not a violent kind. A sad kind. I can almost hear her heart break.

“Is it the friend who’s responsible for your eye?”

My eyes constricted, I roll my head to face her.

“I remember the story you told Olive… Please don’t take offense, but you don’t strike me as the type of person who’s made many friends in his life. Is Vitaly the same one from the story?”

Reluctantly, I nod.

“And you want him dead?”

I stare at her a moment while I consider the question.

Do I want him dead?

No.

I don’t want to think of him. I’d rather no one had ever mentioned his release to me, that no one had ever said his name at all.

Do I not want him dead?

Also no.

“I have no desire to kill him, but I wouldn’t mind if he ceased to exist.”

She nods like she understands, and if it were Olive, maybe I would question it. But coming from this version, I think she just might.

“For the record, I find your eye sexy… But I’m sorry it happened to you.”

“I don’t need your sympathy.”

“I know that,” she says, her palms glued to my sweats swallowing her thighs. She looks like she’s forcing them to stay there, and it’s a relief to see she’s capable of some level of self-control.

We sit in uncomfortable silence for a minute before I stand. “I need a shower… Are there any cameras I should know about in my bathroom?”

I mean it as a dry joke—a dig, really. Her lips stay relaxed as she tilts her head. “I’ve seen you naked plenty of times. Unless you’re going to invite me in with you, a peep show isn’t quite as exciting as you’re imagining.”

I turn and walk from the room without another word, but when I shut the bathroom door behind me, my cool composure fissures with a shudder up my spine.

Despite the woman’s reassurances, I find myself turning the lock.