Page 1 of Till Death Do Us Part

PROLOGUE

vera

The house was full of piano music and the heavy drive of rain on the windows. The old man kept his balcony door unlocked.

The poor fool.

No sign of anyone watching. The house was hidden away from its neighbors, tall cypress trees keeping watch. I checked either direction before I unlatched the door and stepped inside.

Quietly. I crept over soft carpet. The sound of the piano was leading me right to him. I brushed my fingers over the cold steel of my handgun, silencer already fitted on.

Petrov was one of only a few obstacles left between us and the Horizon transit plant. He’d been working with us for years now, always trying to cheat us, always hard-nosed. A moneyed old womanizer who lived a lavish life of excess, he’d finally crossed the line when he made a backdoor deal and got in between us and the harbor freight deals. Ready for us to pay out the nose to get them back.

What he didn’t know, of course, was that his deal would fall through if he died before the deed could actually be transferred. His friends in hell would be waiting for him with open arms.

I snuck to the ground floor and pressed up against the wall next to the conservatory door. The grand piano inside was old, a little tinny on the high end, and the low notes had a deep, soft resonance as he played. Dvorak’s piano quintet, opus 81. So he had some taste.

And he had some sense, too. The piano music was to cover up the other noise. Not enough, though—pressed up against the wall, I could hear them. Three other people. Bodyguards. Trained. They shifted slightly, but not a step forward or back, rigid. Two on the right, one on the left. A whispered comment from one of them to another, in Russian, asking if there was any update from another person on their team.

Russian implied these were handpicked loyalists, not bargain-store bodyguards. Long-time protection who had been working together for years. And that meant blind spots.

I planted a small charge on the wall, setting a timer, and I dusted off my suit before I opened the door and stepped into the conservatory.

Three guns pointed at me the second I opened the door. Across the room, sitting at the piano, Petrov let the notes trickle out as he stopped playing.

“So,” he said. “The Blackbirds send their regards. Have a seat, Vera.”

I smiled at him. “You cheated us, Petrov, old friend,” I said. “Do you know what happens to people who betray the Blackbirds?”

“This is business.”

“This is blood.”

“All business is blood, Vera.” He played the A Minor chord the song had just been rolling in. “And now that you’ve come here, I wanted to make you a deal. Your business… or your blood?”

“I don’t make deals, Petrov. I enforce them.”

He smiled darkly. “Then you have an answer.”

“I have four answers. And an extra two in the chamber just in case any of you are still moving after the first.” I fingered the trigger, gun still pointed at the floor, and I heard the cocking of three guns pointed at me. “Time’s counting down, Petrov,” I said. “Make your decision. Five…”

I timed it perfectly, because I timed it wrong. I’d just hit three when the charge went, a deafening bang from the next room, and the bodyguards flinched, one split second where their attention all went to the side of the room.

One split second. Three pulls of the trigger.

One of them managed to fire a shot at least, the bullet striking off the wall and cracking the wood of a perfectly good cello, but the other two didn’t even make it that far. All three dropped hard, blood spreading across the conservatory floor, their guns clattering on the wood, and I lowered my handgun to half position, striding across the room towards Petrov. He stood up, terror in his eyes. A scared, weak old man with nothing. He reached to the side, and I squeezed out another shot, hitting the gun at the side of the piano and sending it across the floor away from the old man. I kept the gun trained on him as I spoke.

“Sit down, Petrov. I was enjoying the music.”

“Wait. We don’t have to do this. Let’s… let’s talk business. You want the harbor deals? I can still walk them back. I’ll give them to you. All of them! No cost. No questions asked. I’ve fronted all the labor for you. Merona’s yours, the whole region. Just say the word.”

“You’re a fast talker. I see it’s gotten you far. You make promises you can’t keep, and once you’re caught out in a lie, you follow it up with the next.” I gestured with the gun. “Sit back down. I hate to leave a song unfinished.”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll give the Blackbirds everything. And I’ll leave Merona. I’ll go back to Moscow.”

“A trained attack dog, whimpering with its tail between its legs. Look at yourself, Petrov. At least die with dignity.”

The poor fool made the wrong choice. He lunged for me, reaching for the gun, and I had to put him out of his misery. A single squeeze of the trigger, and his jaw shattered from the force of the bullet, a spatter of blood and brain matter through the back of his skull. The impact force pitched his momentum back, and he slammed back against the edge of the piano, his head jerking back so hard I heard the crack of his neck breaking too, and he dropped onto the wood floor, his blood joining that of his bodyguards.