Agent 7. The Shadows: Part I

▪️◾️Chapter Five◾️▪️

I narrow my eyes in my captor's direction.

I'm certain that if I don't do as he commands he will kill me just as he killed Vladimir. But, at the same time, I'm also certain that if I do his bidding he will kill me anyway because I will no longer be of use to him.

So either way I'm dead, right?

Doing all that I can to ignore the heavy weight of his gun in my lap and with eyes locked with his, I lean toward him.

His glare pinches and falls to my mouth as I speak.

"You'll be doing me a favor," I tell him and I mean it.

In the past two years, I've wished to die more days than I've been happy to be alive. Death would be a gift.

In a brash move, I tip my head back and chug the entire glass of red wine that is meant to be spilled on Mayor Borkov.

Adrenaline is wreaking havoc on my nerve endings as I slam the empty crystal back onto the table feeling invigorated.

My impetuous behavior garners a few curious glances from those sitting near us but they don't linger.

The man's eyes—that haven't left my mouth—flare at my blatant disobedience, the blazing fire in his gaze reignites.

My breathing falters as the smooth metal of his gun skims against my leg as he pushes it underneath my dress at the slit. I squirm at the invasion as his rough fingers drag along the sensitive skin of my lower thigh above my knee. His touch is warm but the gun is disturbingly cold and sterile.

Keeping his right hand between my legs, hidden beneath the cover of the table, he lifts his free hand to caress my cheek with the back of two of his fingers. The way you would a small child.

My skin tingles with each rough stroke against my face, hating that it's the most gentle a man has ever touched me. Especially since it's a killer's touch. He stole Vladimir's life with the same hand.

I flinch away from his fingers.

My avoidance doesn't stop him, he carries on the charade, lovingly tucking a loose curl behind my ear before running his fingers through my hair.

Roughly, he takes a handful and jerks my head back causing a sharp pain to sting my scalp in that spot.

I swallow hard as he seethes against the crook of my exposed neck. "You'll regret that, Cara."

His lips graze the skin of my throat, and my pulse thrums heavily beneath the malicious caress. I wonder if he can sense how fast my heart is racing, or if he is aware of how much his touch frightens me.

He seals his threat with the whisper of a kiss just below my ear. It's not a loving caress, it's the kiss of death. That of a betrayal.

A chill rolls over my skin like a fuse being lit, erupting like a destructive firework in my belly. Reminding me that I've never been touched or kissed by a man who truly loves me, only by men who use me for their pleasure or demented games. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.

He releases his hold on the back of my skull, causing my head to jerk forward akin to whiplash. With a heavy scowl, he uses the same hand to signal for a waiter to bring another glass of red wine.

Within minutes, a second glass of Merlot is placed in front of me.

He nudges me with the gun, tapping it against my leg yet again. I scoot back in my seat as far as the chair will allow but it does nothing to help me. He simply shoves the gun up farther. Frustrated, I lift my gaze to his.