Page 13 of Leading Conviction

She froze. His thick Russian accent reminded her of her father’s right-hand man, Vlad. Was this one of their lackeys? The thought made her brain stall out, but she played the part just in time.

“¿Qué haces aquí? ¿Quién eres? No hablo inglés.”

“Do not act like you do not know English, Hannah Smithers. I know it is you, even with blonde hair. I come to finish job.”

“J-job?¿T-trabajo?” She scooted infinitesimally to the side, gliding her hand over the knob of the drawer behind her. Her voice shook as she continued to pretend like she couldn’t speak English, “No sé de qué estás hablando.L-leave… or I callla policía.”

Over the years, she’d received threat after threat as her father made sure she never had the luxury of tricking herself into thinking she was safe from his reach. It’d been a terribly lonely, scary way to live, always running. Always hiding. After what he’d done to her over the years, she didn’t even allow herself to imagine what he was truly capable of.

But even in her wildest, unbidden nightmares, it’d never been this. Her father’s men had never actually approached her. Never entered herhome. She’d take a thousand dead birds on her doorstep if it meant this intruder would leave her alone and never come back.

“Vlad says boss will not need you. You are a… loose end. Vlad does not like loose ends.”

“Vlad? Vlad is calling the shots now?” she asked before she could stop herself. “I-I mean…¿Quién es Vlad?”

She knew she’d fucked up royally even before the Russian’s smile grew wider.

“So you are Hannah Smithers. Good. I was hoping I had the right house this time. Not like last week.”

Fuck.

Hannah gulped. The stalking had never risen to a deadly level, so it hadn’t even occurred to Hannah that the murder of that poor single mother days ago had anything to do with her. But even as guilt and terror twisted her stomach, relief flooded her veins.

At least her son was okay.

She barely resisted the urge to glance toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and prayed to all the saints her mother had believed in that whatever happened next was quick, painless, and no one else would get hurt.

“It is only you he wants gone. Do not worry.”

The man’s smug voice had her anything but unworried. She focused on the intruder as he shifted out of her periphery. His gun and silencer were now raised at her face. She coughed as her fingers gently tugged the drawer away from the cabinet.

Talk to him. Say something, anything to stall.

“So… so, um, Vlad? H-he’s in charge now? I-I thought he was just my father’s drinking buddy.”

The man snorted. “Drinking buddy? Vlad does not drink with the boss.”

“But… but the General is still the boss, then?”

She analyzed him as they spoke. If she somehow escaped, she wanted to remember his face. He wasn’t actually bad to look at, but his positively maniacal grin and eyes transformed him into something ugly.

“Muy guapo,” my ass. Not with thoseojos locos.

“Everything is different now,” he boasted cryptically. “Everyone under old boss must be gone.”

“No loose ends,” she mumbled as her palm touched cool metal.

“Goodbye, Hannah Smith—”

Hannah collapsed to the ground to escape the gunshot, breaking the drawer as she took it down with her. The bullet whizzed by, just above her head, but she extracted her own gun from the broken drawer and lifted it with both hands, spraying shots at the intruder around the cabinet between them. Unfortunately, her haste and lack of practice made her miss him by a foot.

His shocked wide eyes and dropped jaw would’ve been comical if she wasn’t on the verge of passing out from terror.

Please don’t come out. Please don’t come out. Keep those headphones way too loud. Stay in your room.

The inner thought repeated across her mind like a prayer as she aimed for the intruder again, just as he did the same. Their gunshots were deafening, despite his silencer, and she hoped to hell the noise-canceling headphones in the other room did their job.

Focus—