Page 62 of Venomous Throne

There was no point fighting this.

Even if I never spoke to Isabella again, he was right. She needed me. There were foes in Chicago who wanted her head. And I was the only one who could stop them.

“We’ll stay in touch,” I offered.

Chase grinned. “Of course we will. I’m the best hacker in the world, and you’re going to need me from time to time. But this—” he gestures to the life we’d built in the last ten years “—this is over.”

“We had a good run.”

“We did.”

Clinking the glasses together, we toasted our past. I took a sip, then set the bubbly sweet shit down. Chase drained his flute, smacked his lips, and poured a second.

“As a parting gift, I found Sidorov. You can finally cross him off your list and then return to Chicago.”

The idea was tempting. Too long the Russian hitman had evaded me.

“That’s one hell of a gift,” I mused.

“Mhmm,” Chase murmured as he sipped.

Looking out over the jungle, I could see the lush, green canopy below, stretching out for miles with no end in sight. The trees stood tall and proud, reaching toward the sky with their outstretched branches. It was the perfect camouflage for a monster’s lair, exactly why we chose this spot.

‘Come back.’

Heaven damn me, I was going back to her. Against my better judgement, against the instinct that screamed at me that I was bad for her.

“I’ve been doing research on the mob. The history of organized crime in North America is fascinating,” he beamed.

My lips flattened, and I silently prayed for patience. When Chase found something interesting, he became obsessed. It could last hours—or it could last months. In this case, my bet was on the latter.

“Did you know there was an assassination attempt on a mobster via a bomb dropped down his chimney? Why did we never drop bombs down chimneys?” he mused eagerly.

“What happened after the bomb detonated?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Oh! That’s the best part!” Chase filled a third glass, then shot a look at mine. “The target was barely hurt. He checked himself into a hospital, snuck out, killed his enemy, and then returned to keep his alibi. He was never linked to the murder of his would-be assassin.”

“And that is why we don’t drop bombs down chimneys,” I countered. “When I take out a target, they are dead.”

Chase shot me a knowing look. “Except when you cancel contracts.”

I retreated into the compound; the time for goodbyes was over. Chase dogged after me, his boat shoes slapping against the concrete floor.

“What happened in Chicago?” Chase pressed. “I’m having trouble piecing the information together.”

“That’s because it’s none of your business,” I snapped and walked straight to the armory. I pressed the code into the panel, and the wall slid back. Rows of guns lined the far wall. Knives and other sharp objects were displayed in cases. Tactical gear was nestled in the center island.

I began selecting a few items, trying to judge exactly what I would need to take down the Russian.

“I just don’t understand. It should have been an easy hit—”

“Drop it,” I snarled.

Chase blew out a long whistle. “You like this mafiosa.”

I did.

Butlikewas a pitiful description for the pounding in my chest.