From the moment she came on me, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt with innocent desperation like I was the only one who could give it to her, it brought out a deep, unnerving fire in my groin. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t impairing my decisions. I despised how much I wanted to fuck Alexei’s daughter, but I hated being called out on my shit even more. “Get out of my sight.” I shoved Kostya away from me. “You disgust me.” He got to his feet, wiped some blood with the back of a hand, and disappeared out the door. Putting my Makarov in the back of my waistband, I rolled the anger off my shoulders and returned to the back room. “Albert.” I snapped my fingers. “Let’s go.” He rose from his haunches and tossed a bloody rag to the floor. Outside, I slid into the back seat next to Mila, and when I adjusted for space, her head came to rest on my lap. She had hair for days, the color of wheat and summertime. I went to slide my fingers through her ponytail but stopped the impulse when I realized the ridiculous shit I just thought. Hitting my thirties had made me disgustingly sentimental. Long blonde eyelashes rested on cheeks untouched by makeup. Full, parted lips. She looked innocent and vulnerable—but so did her mother, who’d been a real-life Poison Ivy, renowned for her voice though infamous for her sadomasochistic activities. As naive as Mila may seem, she was astute enough to see straight through me and to quote “The Raven.” Too bad her soft heart was her downfall. Her breathing grew a little shallow, and my chest tightened with the thought I’d injected her with too much etorphine. I slapped her face. She flinched like her sleep was disturbed, and the uncomfortable sensation faded. I didn’t care about this girl. I just didn’t like killing women. Though, after my brother and I did nothing but watch while our mother choked on her own vomit, it wasn’t exactly an oddity. Some women deserved death. Especially my mother. And Mila’s for that matter. Albert drove us to the house outside the city. It was over an hour’s drive at best, and I wondered what my pet would do if she awoke before we arrived. Would she cry, beg? Or would she show her Mikhailov colors?