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That shit doesn’t happen. Especially not on a job like this that could have been completed by a rookie on their first day. And honestly, I see red. I won’t lie, I’m impressed. Really fucking impressed. Taking the kill directly out of my hands mere milliseconds before making my hit is no easy feat. It takes balls and a shitload of audacity to fuck with another assassin like that, but Kiara isn’t the type to hold back. Only when it’s got something to do with riding me like a fucking cowgirl. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m pissed.

How the fuck does this keep happening?

Packing up my rifle, I take my ass back to my Audi and get the fuck out of here. It’ll be a while before this bastard is found, and considering the blade lodged in his throat, a sniper won’t even be considered. The most likely story law enforcement will run with is a disgruntled partner or associate taking revenge for losing everything they had.

Either way, I don’t make a habit of hanging around scenes any longer than necessary.

Hitting the gas, I take the same road that got me here, and just like the job in Barcelona, I leave feeling more slighted than ever. There’s no doubt that Kiara and I are going to have words. I need to know how the fuck our paths have crossed.

But despite all of that and how the rage pounds through my veins, what happened here today has brought me clarity.

I knew it was true the second I connected the dots with her planner, and I knew it was true when I stood in her doorway and groaned as she trailed her finger across the front of my throat, silently telling me exactly what she was capable of. But it was never said out loud. Not until this moment, and now, there’s no more denying it, no shrugging it off as a coincidence, and unfortunately for both of us, this changes everything.

CHAPTER 17

KIARA

The door hits the wall hard enough to rattle the frame as I barge into my apartment, but I don’t care. I’m far too hung up on the fact that Raiden Kane shot at me.

Who the fuck does he think he is? Sure, he might have been a good shot, a great one, in fact, but it’s the principle that counts. You don’t shoot at women you’re trying to fuck. Society tends to have a problem with that.

The fury ripples through my body, humming beneath my skin and not giving me a chance to even think straight. It’s electric and keeps me buzzed. I feel as though I’ve run a marathon and can’t seem to slow my body down.

A little healthy competition and stealing someone’s hit is one thing, but to use me as target practice?

Oh, hell no.

He thought I was pissed before, but he has no idea what it looks like when I actually am. He’s about to learn, though. Raiden Kane hasn’t even scratched the surface of what I’m capable of when I stop holding back. That thing I did with that blade through the cabin window and into Caldwell’s throat was a party trick I’ve been capable of doing since I was sixteen years old. He’s got no idea who he’s messing with.

My keys and phone land on the counter with a sharp crack, and I immediately begin pacing, wondering just how shit of a person I’d be if I set up a trigger bomb in his living room for when he gets home.

Arrogant, infuriating asshole.

He thinks this is a game, and sure, it might have started that way, but the moment our worlds collided and our carefully kept secrets were exposed, it became something more, something dangerous, and there’s no telling just how far this could go.

Fucking target practice! Does he have any idea who I am? Because if he did, he would think twice before screwing with me. The audacity. Does he assume I’m just some rookie hitman trying to make it big by stealing contracts and doing parlor tricks? He can fuck right off. Because if he truly knew that he had just used Crimson Blade for target practice, he would be running for the fucking hills.

Frustration has ruled my life since the moment he moved in next door. He’s smug and infuriating, but what’s more, he’s calculated, and I don’t know just how far that goes. Has all that cockiness been an act? Has he known who and what I am since the beginning?

Fuck.

My hands ball into fists as I pace through my apartment, circling the kitchen island like a caged animal. My pulse is loud in my ears, but my rage is louder.

He thinks he’s seen me angry.

He hasn’t.

I make another tight turn around the counter, muttering to myself when the front door explodes inward, wood cracking against the wall as the frame splinters.

I whirl with a gasp, my eyes wide as Raiden Kane storms in, his eyes blazing with that same rage that consumes me, his jaw set with determination, and his finger already pointed toward my chest.

“YOU.”

Oh, hell no.

My hand snaps out on instinct, fingers closing around the handle of one of my kitchen knives, and I don’t think. I throw.

Steel flashes across the apartment before he even has time to blink, and I’m already moving, vaulting over the island in one clean motion, chasing the momentum.