Page 31 of Claim Me

So would his sister.

As far as the person responsible? They’d quickly learn about the Dmitriyev legacy.

We’d been born to be kings.

With the house secure, I returned to the rental car. I’d need to play this carefully. As soon as I started the engine, my phone rang.

“What is it, Ryker?”

“We might have an issue. I’d thought you’d like to know before I had Simon handle it.”

“What?” I pulled from Charlie’s driveway, immediately pressing down on the accelerator.

“There’s a car with a single driver inside. From his vantage point, he has a partial shot of Ms. Valentine’s house. He’s either stupid or oblivious to our presence. What do you want me to do?”

“Watch him. If he attempts to break inside, lock him down,” I growled. “This I’ll handle myself.”

Not only would I handle it, I’d enjoy every moment of tearing the man apart.

CHAPTER 10

Kazimir

There were several basic principles I used when hunting down an enemy. One included knowing everything possible about the person prior to deciding on how best to handle an interrogation. Another was leaving all thoughts of remorse somewhere else.

My father had no conscience. I’d suspected my older brother and the current Pakhan didn’t either, although recently, I’d seen otherwise. While I’d been trained, or what some would call indoctrinated in the old ways of the Bratva, my younger brother and sisters knew little of the explosive danger that was possible.

Although in recent months, they’d seen and heard enough given our issues with the Irish clan out of Los Angeles. What continued to weigh in the back of my mind was that in butting heads with another Bratva, bloodshed and deaths could increase exponentially. Once started, rules of decency and humanity were tossed aside, the old methods of handling business the only acceptable way forward.

However, if the person stalking Marissa was from the Popov Bratva, I didn’t have time for a heavy interrogation. Instead, a message needed to be sent.

I switched off the headlights before making the turn down her street. In the slenderest of moonlight, I noticed a car parked on the side of the road. With no silencer, if a kill was necessary, I’d be a polite neighbor and use a knife. There was nothing wrong with making this very personal.

With the hunting knife I always carried secured in my pocket, I turned off the dome light before exiting. It was a little trick I’d learned from Mikhail years before that even the best of assassins often missed.

I kept my distance, easing to the curb. With my weapon in hand, I exited the vehicle, crouching low as I jogged toward the dark sedan. Given this was a residential neighborhood, I’d need to be extremely careful in how I handled the situation.

When I was only a few yards away, the driver’s door was slowly opened, a man easing onto the pavement as quietly as possible. I’d been correct in my assumptions. He’d forgotten to turn off the dome feature. In the brief seconds of the light remaining on, I gathered a decent view of the perpetrator. Six foot two. Dark hair. Muscular build. Dressed in all black and carrying a weapon with a silencer.

All the markings of an assassin.

Remaining quiet, I waited to confirm my suspicions. He moved to the front of the vehicle just as I shifted to the back, crouching low as I peered around the corner. Killing him from this angle would be easy, but far too messy, not only with noise but in case my assumptions were wrong.

They weren’t. He jogged across the road toward Marissa’s house, disappearing into the tree line seconds later.

Remaining as quiet as possible, I followed his trail. The moment I was close, I pointed the weapon at the back of his head, with just enough light to see what I was doing.

“I suggest you drop your weapon.”

He threw his arms in the air as if he was going to comply. I wasn’t fooled. He tipped his head to the side.

“Tebe pridetsya prinyat’ eto ot menya.” His deep voice was gravelly, the poor man spending much of his hard-earned cash on booze and cigarettes.

You’ll need to take it from me.

His answer brought a laugh up from my throat. “Gladly.”

The moment of tension was short lived.