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was going to try to figure out a way to pay him back. That almost made him smile. When they got into the car, she was silent a long moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You. This.” She waved a hand all around her. “Something’s off. I just can’t figure out what.”

Dimitri started the engine and headed for the house. He needed to think. Maybe he could tell her that Royce wanted someone to look after her; he didn’t have to go into more detail than that. He just hoped whatever he said wouldn’t destroy that tiny bit of trust he had won from her.

Viktor Ivanoff climbed into a gray four-door Honda Civic in the parking lot at LAX and opened the glove compartment. A manila envelope and a black case were inside. He went for the case first, setting it on his lap and unfastening the hard plastic clasps. Inside was a basic Ruger SR9. Not his usual style. He preferred a Makarov or a Beretta, but this trip had been planned on short notice, and his handler in LA hadn’t had time to set up the operation the way Viktor liked.

He put the case back in the glove box and opened the manila envelope. Inside were new identity documents, a California driver’s license, car insurance, car registration, and a new US passport so detailed that it even had a few falsified stamps indicating he’d been to France, Canada, and Mexico. There was an address and a picture of the apartment he’d be living in while he was here.

The last set of documents in the folder were the most important. The name of the person to be disposed of, along with every bit of personal information his government could find on the target. At the bottom was a series of pictures. He frowned in confusion. He had expected a challenge, something worthy of his skills. The person he’d been sent after was a woman barely over twenty.

He pulled out the new burner phone in the envelope and dialed.

“Yes?” the person on the other end answered in Russian.

“What is this bullshit?” Viktor demanded. “I’m here to kill some girl? You could have had anyone do this.”

“No. We need to make sure this one is handled properly,” the man said in a low tone.

“Why? Who is she?” Viktor had killed women before; he’d become a master of using ricin. A bump in an elevator, a nudge on the street while waiting for a light to change. A light prick on someone’s skin, easily unnoticed. Then a day or two later, the target died. But the gun case meant he wasn’t expected to use poison.

“That is not something you need to know. Make sure it’s done, a head shot. Then dispose of the body so it can never be recovered.”

The call disconnected.

Viktor cursed and threw the cell phone on the seat as he stared at the pictures of his target.

Elena Allen.

She was pretty in a soft, sweet sort of way, nothing like the beautiful women he used when he desired to fuck something. But there was something about her, something in her face that tugged at his memory. She was important, and he would figure out why before he killed her.

5

Elena could tell she had caught Dimitri off guard with her guess. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he parked the car in the driveway and made sure the gate closed behind them before he let them get out of the car. He was being cautious; he wasn’t letting her out of his sight. It was clear this wasn’t about the kindness of a random stranger. He had said he was a friend of Royce Devereaux, and Royce was not someone you messed with. Just because he was a professor who dug up dinosaur bones didn’t mean he wasn’t able to take care of himself. She’d seen him handle a gun and keep cool under pressure. It was too much of a coincidence for her to share a house and a flight back to the States with this man. She’d been trying to ignore the thought, but now she couldn’t.

“You’re here to babysit me, aren’t you? Royce called in a favor to get you to come all this way and watch me. Well, it’s not necessary.” She delivered this quietly, but inside she was screaming at the thought that the two men were trying to treat her like a child. She just wanted to be free of the control of men.

She left the bags of new clothes in the trunk of Dimitri’s car and barely stopped herself from slamming the door of the house once she got inside. She tossed her purse on the kitchen table before going down the stone stairs that led to the beach. She kicked off her sandals and stepped ankle-deep into the surf.

The chilly water woke her up like an electric shock, making everything clearer. Dimitri had been shadowing her from the start. She’d been bumped up into a business-class seat on purpose. And when she had panicked in the plane bathroom, he had been calm and had come right after her. At that time, he really had been a stranger to her, but if she had been a stranger to him, there was no way he would have come to her rescue. She saw that now. He knew enough about her situation to know she had suffered. How much had Royce told him?

God, I’m such an idiot . . .

Turning back toward the house, she saw him standing above her on the patio balcony. He leaned over the railing, hands braced apart, watching her. He looked more dangerous than ever, and beautiful. How could Royce do this to her? Had Kenzie known? If she had . . . Elena clenched her hands and faced the ocean again. Without a word she began to walk deeper into the waves until they were crashing into her hard enough that she nearly lost her footing. She needed to be out in the water,

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