“Tell me, Azriel. Who do you plan to kill?”
He gave me a rueful smile and produced a dagger from his waistband at his back. He twirled it between his fingers in a dazzling flash of silver. “My former employer,” he said.
I raised a curious brow. “Who paid you to do this?”
The rueful smile transformed into a mischievous grin. “My new employer.”
“So much for loyalty,” I muttered.
“I’m above loyalty to humans,” he said. “If you want something to be loyal to, my love, be loyal to the paper in your hand. A job is only as good as the money behind it. The higher the price, the more dangerous the job. The more dangerous the job . . .” he tossed the dagger in the air and caught it. “The more exhilarating the experience will be.”
“And your old employer?” I ventured. “Who might he be?”
Azriel shrugged. “His identity is inconsequential.”
“What about the new employer?”
“Armenian mob. Vasili Ergorov. He tried to make a name for himself on the East Coast. Chicago, and then New York. But the bigger fish kicked him out of their ponds. When he didn’t have any better luck in Atlantic City, he moved out here. Now the little fishie swims in a pond perfect for his size.”
Just because Seattle wasn’t Chicago or New York did not mean we didn’t see our fair share of organized crime. Prohibition existed here just as it did on the eastern seaboard. We had the same corruption, crooked politicians, and opportunists. But I supposed that, like us, this Vasili Ergorov had come to Seattle with the same intentions Azriel had when he brought me here: a fresh start.
“So, I take it the objective tonight is to wipe out Vasili’s competition, am I right?”
“Ah, Darian,” Azriel sighed. “So clever. Nothing gets past you.”
Though his tone carried an edge of mockery, I knew that Azriel admired my mind. He asked my opinion on matters frequently, and took my counsel to heart. He simply always sounded jaded. Or bored. As if nothing in the world had yet to impress or surprise him.
“What are we doing here?” I asked. “Are we waiting for someone?”
“Certainly not Vasili,” Azriel grumbled under his breath. “He sees himself as above meeting in back alleys. No, darling, we’re waiting for our mark.”
I swallowed down my laughter. “Mark isn’t a very intimidating name for a gangster.”
Azriel chuckled. “His name isn’t Mark. It’s Joe. Joseph Connelly. Mark is the term for an intended victim. Come on, doll, you’ve got to get with the program,” he laughed as he made a mockery of the popular slang. “This is a hit, and we’re after the mark.”
I nodded in answer, absorbing every bit of information like a sponge. I wanted to prove to Azriel that I could handle going out with him on jobs. Most women celebrated their strength and independence in the voting booths. But that wasn’t good enough for me, not anymore. Just as Azriel was above loyalty to humans, I was above their stereotypes. I had preternatural strength, speed, and life. I wanted to use my gifts and stretch my muscles. And like Azriel, I was bored.
“So,” I said, tucking a curling lock of hair back into my fedora, “Your new boss doesn’t meet in back alleys, but your old one doesn’t seem to mind?”
“Not exactly.” Azriel balanced the knife on the tip of his finger, before flipping it and catching it in the other hand by the handle. “He’s got a chippie on the side, a dancer. They meet here on Wednesdays and Fridays.” He pointed the knife to a high window across the street. “He takes her up to a room he rents on the fourth story.”
I cocked my head to the side. “How do you know this? Did he tell you?”
Azriel smirked. “No one knows.”
I looked up to the fourth story window, wondering what sort of room a gangster used for romantic trysts. Azriel traced his finger along my jaw. “One thing you must remember, Darian: Trust no one. If Joe suspected for a second that I wasn’t on the up and up, he’d try to have me killed.” He grinned. “Not that he’d be successful, but that doesn’t matter. Everyone has secrets, my love. There’s not a person on this earth who isn’t hiding something. And I make it my business to unearth those secrets. I never go into any situation without the upper hand.”
His confidence, the almost arrogant tone of this voice, intoxicated me. My blood coursed hot and fast through my veins and my skin tingled with excitement. This was the thrill Azriel craved and the only way to get it was by being one step ahead. All of the time. “What about the girlfriend?” I wanted to show Azriel that I could be one step ahead of him. “If you wait until they’re together, she becomes a liability.”
Azriel pressed me against the brick wall and slid his fingers inside my suit jacket. My eyes drifted shut as he took a deep breath and held it in his lungs. “Have I ever told you how sexy I find your intelligence?” he asked as he exhaled.
A pleasant shudder ran from my head to my toes. His warm breath tickled my ear, and the sensation of his fingers caressing me through the silk shirt made my heart skip in my chest. “The mistress?” I persisted, though my voice came as a lazy murmur.
“Like you said . . .” He pressed his lips to my temple. “A liability.”
“You can’t kill her.”
Azriel slumped against me and he sighed. I knew the sound too well. Exasperation. With me, with my conscience, with my constant questions.
“Azriel,” I whispered as I combed my fingers through his thick, dark hair. “She’s innocent.”
“You can’t save them all.” He put an arm’s length of space between us, and I suddenly felt cold without his body against mine. “You say you’re curious. You claim to only want to learn more about them. But I know why we go out and walk amongst the humans night after night. I see your shrewd gaze picking them over. Searching.”
I wrapped my arms around myself as if to keep some of his warmth with me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Azriel fixed me with a serious stare. “You look for him.”
“Him?”
“Henry.”
I pushed myself from the wall and brought my hand up to slap him good and hard. But Azriel grabbed my wrist in his unyielding grip, and I struggled against him. “I’m no fool, Darian, so do me the honor of not treating me like one. Since our first night in the city, when you let that foolish would-be thief live, you’ve been looking for more of his ilk. More of Henry’s ilk, in the hopes of catching one of them before they do their worst to some poor helpless girl. The girl you used to be.”
Damn him, he was right.
“You need to let go of that nagging humanity you’re holding on to so tight. I’ll spare Joe’s chippie—if I can. But an assassin must always cover his tracks. And that means no witnesses.”
He released my hand when he realized the fire had drained right out of me. I couldn’t admit to Azriel the real reason I’d begged to come with him and become a part of his new business endeavor: I wanted to learn how to turn my more tender emotions off. At least for a while. I wanted to experience that lovely gray area that Azriel lived in. I wanted to embrace the indifference.
“The mistress is a liability.” I repeated Azriel’s words as if to convince myself that her death would be necessary. But I knew deep down that if I could keep her safe, I would.
He playfully tapped the tip of my nose with his finger. “That’s my girl.”
I followed Azriel’s instructions and kept to the shadows. I watched. Listened. Waited. And when I thought I’d nod off right there, Joe Connolly stumbled into the alley.
He didn’t look much like a crime boss––or, at least, what I pictured a crime boss to look like. Short, dumpy, and balding, Joe didn’t even bother to dress the part. His suit looked cheap and rumpled, his tie ragged and askew. His eyes were glazed over as if he’d had too much to drink, or perhaps something else. Opium, maybe. He listed to one side like the street was slipping out from under him. The effort seemed futile, but he straightened his tie and dusted himself. Like that was going to help improve his appearance.