Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Valentina

“Mind telling me what the hell just happened?” Hans asks as I open the back doors of the black Mercedes Sprinter. It’s kitted out with all kinds of monitoring and sophisticated equipment.

Zeus jumps in and lies down immediately. I step in and close the doors behind me. We are parked down a back street where rubbish fills the dingy streets. Out of sight from the police or any other passing by people.

“Don’t,” I warn him, my voice like ice. “Just get me back to the hotel. I need to regroup with myself.”

He lets out a sigh of frustration. Hans is older than I am by four years. We have been a team for the last three years. We work well together. He always has my back. He is the best of the best when it comes to tech. Without him, I would struggle. His amber eyes look tired and weary. We’ve been on the road for weeks following Maksim from one location to the next. Today was our window when he wasn’t with his protection. The more I think about it, the more I want to know exactly what he is doing here in Croatia, unmanned and unprotected.

“Fine. We have to get out of Croatia, Valentina. I’ll book us the next flights out.”

He stands up as far as he can, not to full height since we’re in the van. He is six foot one, built like a bodybuilder, so yeah, it’s a tight fit.

“Just drive, Hans, please. Get me out of here.”

He knows the risks. We have to keep moving. I can trust Hans will find out where Maksim will be next. Only, fuck. Those eyes, green-moss, depth to them I haven’t seen in a man before. Then there was the way his mouth tilted up on one side.

Like the motherfucker was smirking up at me.

Can it be that he knows I am following him around? Does he sense something? Has he got a tail on me that I don’t know about? I shake that feeling because Hans is the best at covert operations; he ensures we never leave a trail. I don’t travel as Valentina Santangelo, daughter to the richest and most powerful man in New York City.

I travel as a different persona all of the time. Don’t even get me started on the number of wigs I have, or the number of different passports and identities.

Today, I am merely travelling as Lisa Jefferson. A librarian from Boston, on holiday, meeting up with friends to visit the infamous Dubrovnik Franciscan Monastery Library.

I pat Zeus’s head. “Good boy. Next time, next time.” His head pushes into my palm.

Only, will there be a next time? Something sits uneasy in the pit of my stomach. What the fuck is wrong with me? I am mad as hell at myself for missing my opportunity. This is the first and only time that I have not taken the shot.

I shoot to kill. Not look down the scope and fucking roll over on my back.

This has been years in the planning. The seething anger and hatred inside me has festered away to find a way to hurt Maksim’s father in the worst possible way.

To kill his eldest son. The ultimate kick in the balls.

Then I will go after the monster himself.

Back in my hotel, at the luxurious Grand Park Hotel Rovinj, Zeus, now out of his harness and collar, settles on the large bed that dominates my private suite. The views across the old town of Rovinj do nothing to calm my anger and frustration. Why didn’t I take the damn shot? What the hell came over me?

I need a drink, and a strong one. Thank God there is air conditioning in the hotel. Outside is like a desert, the heat relentless in its quest to shine so bright.

From the mini bar, I take out a top-end whisky, pour it into one of the crystal glasses, no ice. I don’t do whisky watered down. In that I take after my father. The man has expensive tastes; it runs in our family.

The amber liquid slides easily down my throat, the burn offering that sensation I have come to love. I take another drink, then set the glass down on the smoked-glass table in my suite’s lounge area. This suite has a private lounge pool; I intend to sit in it.

Without hesitation, I strip off the black, racerback T-shirt, unbutton my black cargo pants and let them fall to the ground before stepping out of them. God, I feel dirty. First, I need a shower.

Taking in my appearance in the gold-framed mirror in the bathroom, I can see the bags under my eyes from too many late nights stalking Maksim, keeping an eye on his father, the biggest asshole that walked the earth. Plotting my revenge, watching his men. Sleep always eludes me in any case, at the best of times. My long, dark hair is tied up in a ponytail. I take the band out and allow it to cascade down my back. I have my mother’s hair. Black. Shiny. Glossy. The men go crazy for it, draping over their stomachs when I give them head. Easy bastards, men. You suck their dick, they roll over and do anything you want. 

I’m about to strip off my bra and slide my black lace, matching panties down. Then I hear it. A strong knock on the door. What the fuck? Who has access up here? This is a private suite with private access. Nobody is supposed to be able to be here. Unless, of course, it is Hans. Fuck it, he has seen me in my underwear before.

Huffing with irritation, I stomp in my bare feet to the door. My instinct kicks in. Zeus is off the bed and sitting by my side on high alert. “Stand down,” I command him. He lies down by my feet. “Good boy.”

“Open the door, Valentina,” I hear a man’s voice from the other side that I do not recognize. I pull my brows together, then press the button on the panel by the door to see who is on the other side.

My eyes almost pop out of my skull when I see those green-moss eyes staring straight back at me.

Holy shit.

How did Maksim Silov know I was here?