The flight to Arkhangelsk didn’t take long, and in a few hours, they were driving into the city, the weight of its age visible in the layout and the structures themselves. In other words, old, and also the seat of power for the Tygrov family.
“You are entering the city of the archangels,” Matvei claimed. “In times past, we used to have the most beautiful churches. Including a fantastic basilica.”
“What happened to them?” Anja asked, peeking at the passing scenery.
“What happens to all things that people don’t understand or tolerate: destruction. During Stalin’s reign, he ensured the removal of most of them.”
“The churches were destroyed. However, he did leave the city intact. He had to, as it serves as a major Russian seaport and has for centuries.” Cole had done his homework once he knew their destination. This would be a first for him. He’d avoided Arkhangelsk in the past. Most shifters without invitation did. Some places even bears did not trespass. Until now.
And the old man hasn’t killed me for it yet. It made him wary. What game did Tygrov play?
A disarming one, apparently, as Matvei, with a nod of acknowledgment, complimented him. “The boy knows his history.”
As if he needed the old man’s approval. Okay, so he did kind of enjoy it. It also roused his suspicion, and he waited for the knife to come out of hiding. Or the drug to hit. Something. What he knew of the Tygrov patriarch didn’t have him affable, and yet the old man sat calmly across from him.
“In my line of work, it’s best to be prepared. I know history. Cultures. Languages. I’m very good at French.” He didn’t look at Anja but felt her stiffen beside him. About time she was rigid instead of him. His cock knew to behave at the moment. Somehow he didn’t think an erection in front of her grandfather would pass muster, and he preferred not to be neutered.
“More clichés, assassin,” she murmured softly.
“It’s not cliché if it makes me good at my job and, even better, keeps me alive. Killing isn’t just about the fun parts where you see your target’s eyes go wide as he reaches for a gun a moment before you pounce him and show him why he shouldn’t fuck with you. You have to be smart if you don’t want someone to shoot your fat ass so they can stuff and mount it. I might have started out small and petty, but a few close calls told me I needed to educate myself. Not just with books and articles, but with people and actual experience. I’ve traveled to every continent. I’ve visited so many places that my air miles get air miles.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing more of the world.” She loved the farm, but sometimes an escape was needed.
“You should go with someone who can show you the best places to eat and play.” Not exactly a subtle hint. Then again, he wasn’t a man for subtlety.
“And do you mix work with play?” she queried.
“Sometimes.”
“You should always combine the two,” Matvei advised. “Then your accountant can write it off as an expense.”
More friendly advice? Cole eyed Tygrov, yet it was Anja who spoke. “You called Cole an assassin earlier. You’ve heard of him?”
“Indeed, your killer has quite the name for himself. One that claims he always gets the job done. Except for recently. I hear he missed his last target.”
“Not exactly. I had Fabian Garoux in my sights.” Cole raised his hand and aimed it gun-style at Matvei. “However, the one putting out the hit became unable to provide payment. I wouldn’t want to get a reputation I work for free.”
She arched a brow. “You don’t always kill for payment. You’ve been claiming you’re going to kill me since we met, and yet no one’s offering to pay you.”
Actually, he would never kill her, but Cole wasn’t about to admit that in front of the old man. “Killing to protect myself is allowed without payment, but in your case, I’ve decided to hold off. For now.”
“And how long is for now?”
Forever? Probably too soon to admit. “I probably won’t end your existence today or tomorrow.”
“What about the weekend?”
Her insistence on a time frame made his lips twitch. “I’ll reevaluate.”
Hers quirked right back. “If I don’t kill you first.”
“Ahem.” This time the old man received an annoyed look from both of them, but his interruption served to stifle further conversation.
In silence they weaved through the streets of the town. Daylight had long since faded, and only the yellow glow of streetlamps and windows shuttered by blinds or curtains served to illuminate their path.
A part of Cole expected they would head to the marina, because surely a family as rich and prestigious as the Tygrovs would live on one of the islands dotting the bay. Yet, instead, they went past the city, past the edges of civilization, following a road that twined and wound around a forested mountain. When they emerged at the top, the headlights illuminated the oddest structure, precariously balanced, a series of additions, layered around and on each other haphazardly. The uppermost part rose like a spire.
“Was the architect related to Picasso?” because tall and seemingly created of wood, the planks not entirely straight, the entire home appeared slightly off-kilter, as if the slightest push would send it toppling like a domino.
“It is a replica of the famous Sutyagin House, the tallest wooden house in Russia, with thirteen stories, or at least the tallest home until they tore it down for being unsafe.”
“And you felt a need to recreate it?” Cole cocked his head, unable to deny the appeal of the precariously balanced structure. “I have to admit to house envy. It is unique. I could see why someone would want to inherit. Maybe I should kill you.”
“Even if Anja is my most direct heir, you still wouldn’t get your hands on it.”
“I would have my hands on her.” He waggled his fingers and smiled. It earned him a jab to the ribs. He glanced over and noted Anja bit her lip, trying not to laugh. So he winked, and she snickered.
“You speak rather possessively about the girl. Is it your intention to marry my granddaughter?” Matvei fixed Cole with a calculating stare.
Anja leaned forward. “If you say, ‘I forbid it,’ I will declare him my husband so fast your head will explode.” She eyed her grandfather. “Actually, on second thought, say it. I want to see what happens. Maybe if I’m lucky, you’ll keel over at the thought of an assassin as your grandson-in-law.”
“He’s more likely to keel at the thought of my white ass pumping as I do debauched things to your body.” That was a touch crass even for him but totally worth the ruddy color in Tygrov’s face.
“He’s an ignorant killer.”
“And you’re a pompous jerk,” was her retort.
“He’s a bear.”
Anja recoiled. “How do you know that?”
“Because I am a tiger.”
“So where’s the lion?” she retorted. “Isn’t that how the rhyme goes?”
“This is no joke. Marrying him would cause no end of problems. Tigers and bears do not get along.”
Her chin tilted. “Good thing I’m not a tiger. And, even more to the point, I don’t take orders from you. I’ll do whatever I damned well please whether you like it or not.”
The old guy’s lips pulled into a flat line. “Rebelling against me is a futile waste of time.”
“Says the guy handing out rules like candy. Don’t you know they teach us at a young age to never take the candy. And the second lesson is don’t ever follow me home in a white van. It makes Babushka really mad. But I wish she’d at least kept the candy instead of dumping it with the truck.”
“Once we inherit this house, she should come live with us.” And, yes, Cole spoke as if it were a done deal. Not really. A part of him hyperventilated. The thought of tying himself to one stupendous woman terrified him more than death.
But the thing scarier still?
What if she walked away?
When Cole had first encountered Anja—was it only a few days ago?—he’d been simply a hired killer, doing a job, a job he found himself reluctant to complete. Working for money was fun, until he’d realized money didn’t buy happiness.
All his life he’d scoffed at the idea of a true mate. How could there be one woman, one being, who was awesome enough he’d want to keep her forever? Impossible to imagine. Wouldn’t it get boring? Then again
…
I eat peanut butter on toast almost every single day and love it still.
The feel of a thundershower on my skin never fails to delight.
And that cracking of a can of fresh soda where the popping bubbles get up your nose and that first sip makes your eyes water. He still loved that feeling.
Why couldn’t he have it for a woman, especially since what he felt toward Anja was so much more than anything he’d ever experienced before? She consumed his thoughts. Stimulated his mind. Ignited his lust. She was a part of him now. He’d licked her. She’d licked him back. They owned each other—body, spit, and soul.
“I don’t know if I would want to live here. It’s not very inviting.” Anja wrinkled her nose. “And it’s old. Like probably missing-basic-conveniences old.”
“We could tear the shack down and build something modern.”
“Keep speaking, boy. It is obvious you do not want to live until morning,” Matvei remarked as he headed up the grand porch steps composed of layered stone slabs leading to the door. It swung open at his approach.
“I heard that, Matty! Do not threaten my future grandson-in-law.” Blocking the entrance was Anja’s grandmother, wearing another voluminous black dress, arms crossed over her chest, a thick woven shawl around her shoulders. He wondered what the woolen covering hid today. A flamethrower, perhaps?
“You!” Matvei spat. “What are you doing in my house? You have a lot of nerve coming here after what you did.”
“After what I did?” Her voice rose in pitch. “You are the reason I had to leave. I wasn’t about to see my granddaughter’s life put in danger because you couldn’t let two lovers be together.”
“Are you still harping on that, woman? Pyotr made a promise to another woman. A promise he chose to honor.”
“A promise that should have never happened,” Nonna spat. “Helga deserved better than that.”
“Perhaps she did, and perhaps things might have been different if you’d not taken Helga and the unborn child away.”
“What else could I do to ensure no one would use Anja as a pawn? We both know Pyotr’s fiancée and her family would have never let the child live.”
“She is my granddaughter. I would have protected her!” Matvei’s face turned a mottled red as he yelled, and Cole found it interesting how one little old woman with simple words could reduce him to a spitting rage.
“Protect her how?” Nonna’s lips pulled into a sneer. “You are the problem. The fact she’s related to you is why these attempts would keep happening. It’s why I took her away, and would have stayed away if you hadn’t found us. You should have left us alone.”
“What did you expect me to do? She’s my blood.”
“Everyone is allowed a fault.” Nonna leaned forward and, despite her shorter stature, oozed more menace than a rabid bear on ’shrooms. “My fault was in letting you live.”
“Maybe you should have killed me, because you certainly fucked me over when you left … wife.”
Everyone could see the shock on Anja’s face as the realization that the man she’d heard about her entire life, her perfect dedushka, her supposed dead grandfather, was standing in front of her. Very much alive.
Her shock was the only thing that kept Cole from clapping his hands at the shocking twist.
Anja spun on her heel, ignoring her grandmother’s cried, “Lapushka, my sweet. Stop. Let me explain to you.”
“Fuck you,” she yelled over her shoulder as she marched off down the drive. “Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck me. Argh.”
When Matvei and Nonna started to go after her, Cole stopped them. “Don’t.” In her state of mind, no good could come of it. Cole would know. Betrayals by those closest to a person hurt the most.
“I need to explain—” the old woman stuttered, looking all of her frail years for once.
Cole interrupted. “Explain what? That you lied to her? That you both majorly fucked up with no regard to her feelings and needs? I thought I had a messed-up childhood, but congrats, I think you made an even bigger mess of Anja’s.”
“I did what I had to,” the old woman said, anguish pulling her lips down at the corners.
“You were selfish keeping her from her family,” snapped Matvei.
There was blame to share for everyone. “And you were an asshole for pushing Anja’s dad to be with another woman. She is right. You both fucked up. You both meddled when you should have left Anja’s parents to work things out on their own. Perhaps they would have stayed together, or perhaps not, but neither of you gave them a choice, and that girl”—he pointed in the direction she’d gone, the woods having swallowed her form as she stalked off in anger—“was deprived because of it. Now the question is: What will you do to fix it?”
“Buy her something expensive,” Matvei suggested, only to spit out a curse as Nonna slapped him in the head.
“Buy things. It’s always buying things with you. Jewelry and cars can’t fix feelings. Not everything is about money.”
“You liked my money well enough when you were spending it,” snapped the elder Tygrov.
“While you both hash out your obvious issues as a couple, I’m going to go find Anja before someone else does.”
“What are you implying?” barked Matvei, his brows beetling. “She is safe here. She is on Tygrov land.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t mean shit to me. So I am going to hunt my woman down, and while I’m gone, smarten the fuck up, or I will kill both of you. For free.”
A suave killer never allowed himself to run when in pursuit. A certain decorum was to be expected; however, within minutes of entering the forest, the almost barren branches creaking overhead, the air crisp, his gut clenched and his bear whispered, Danger. He couldn’t say why. There was no scent but that lingering behind of Anja’s passage. The leaves underfoot proved noisy when he stepped on their crisp carcasses, and yet his were the only steps he heard. It was if Anja had disappeared into thin air, and when he came to the stream, he realized what she’d done. Clever girl, using the water to mask her scent.
She was good.
He was better.
She had a killer on her trail. Given her skill at hiding her tracks, he’d need to pull the big bear out. Cole took a moment to strip and folded his clothes in a pile that he placed on a rock. The brisk air pimpled his skin, but excitement kept him warm.
We’re going on a hunt.
It took him only a moment to coax his inner bear forth. The shaggy beast never hesitated at a chance to drive their body, and Cole had long ago gotten used to the pain of change. Every time, as his skin grew fur and his limbs reshaped, the agony reached a purity that stole the breath and then faded abruptly. Faded and was forgotten until the next time he swapped skin.
Giving his big shoulders a roll, he lumbered into the chilly stream, the fur on his paws instantly soaked, but he wouldn’t have to stay in for long. Only long enough for him to catch his mate’s trail again. Despite her tricks, the faintest hint of her hung in the air, and he followed it.
His mate had moved quickly, hopping out of the stream less than a quarter mile down onto some rocks, then climbing through some fragrant brush that did much to mask her scent. But he didn’t give up. He watched the ground, seeking the faint scuffs and bent foliage that would show her passage.
During his pursuit, he found several bodies, their eyes staring sightlessly, their throats cut, but these were not dead by her hand. Someone with claws had killed the sentinels in these woods.
The woods were compromised, and Anja was in danger.
A copper scent brought him to another body, not a guard this time, he’d wager, given the camouflage clothing. He found traces of Anja here, a few strands of hair, a sharp burst of fear and anger still perfuming the air. A bloody blow to the head had downed the fellow on the ground, but she’d left him breathing.
Sloppy.
Cole fixed her mistake before moving on, her trail now easier to follow. But she’d moved fast, faster than he would have expected.
Cole quickened his own pace, but he wasn’t quick enough. He burst from the woods and found a section of the road that wound into the property. The scuffing of the ground on the shoulder showed a struggle. He also found a body that he’d wager belonged to Anja’s enemies, yes, enemies, because, make no doubt, more than one had come to brazenly fetch her. He could tell by the scents and markings that she’d fought hard, but they were too many—and I wasn’t there to protect her.
His first real job as a protector, and he’d failed. The enemy had carted her off through a short section of woods to a road bisecting it. They’d left in a car, the faint traces of exhaust still lingering in the air. She was gone, and Cole had no idea where they’d taken her.
But I will find her. As soon as he got his hands on his phone. The dress Anja wore wasn’t just sexy. He’d installed a tracker inside.
Time to go hunting. And kill, because Cole was done playing nice.