Hard Target by Marquita Valentine Page B

Not at all.” She shakes her head. “She’s a real bitch about people stealing her unlabeled sandwiches, though that’s not enough to want her fatally hurt.”
    My mouth quirks. “I take it that you were one of the accused.”
    “Her brother Oliver said that it was Sandwich Day and gave it to me. How was I to know it’s not an official Commonwealth holiday? She yelled at me in front of Mr. Pinter as well as a Japanese delegation that was interested in our vaccination strain of R7P.”
    She has a point. “Not your fault.”
    “See, even you agree with me. And you were the worst one about the rules. So freaking strict.”
    “Lower level employees liked to gossip, eh?”
    Morgan grins. “They liked to talk about your tight bum and your big… paycheck.”
    “My paycheck is not for public consumption.”
    She eyes me. “Am I allowed to confirm that your paycheck is bigger than we all thought?”
    If there is one thing I can say about Morgan is that she keeps me guessing with what will come out of her mouth next. “I’ll pay for a full spread in The Daily.”
    She snorts. “You are so conceited.”
    “Wait. What? You’re the one who brought up the size of my paycheck, not I.”
    “Oh my gosh.” Her eyes are full of mirth as she giggles. “Say that again.”
    “Say what?”
    “ That .”
    I give her a look. “That what?”
    “You’re so posh.”
    “You’re bloody confusing.”
    “I’m sorry.” She sighs heavily. “I’m trying to keep a positive outlook and when I get nervous or scared, I like to joke around.”
    I glance at her, and then back at the road. “I’m the same way. Well, I used to be worse, actually.”
    “Really?”
    “Truly.” I laugh a little. “I used to annoy the shite out of my brother, but what he didn’t know was that I was afraid Grandfather would send me back at any minute because I wasn’t cut out to be an assassin like Nikolai and wasn’t earning my keep. I thought by telling jokes that I would make them like me so much that they’d forget about what I wasn’t good at doing.
    “Didn’t need to worry though,” I add.
    “Why is that?”
    “Grandfather said he had enough assassins. He said that Romanovs needed to look to the future. I was the future of the Bratva . The next day, there was a laptop sitting on my bed when I woke up.” Yet, he still taught me how to take a life.
    “That was how I felt with my parents and granny. I was there to entertain them or they didn’t pay me any attention. When my dad would come around, I tried to make him smile, tried to be the boy he wanted… that’s how I learned to shoot, load, and clean guns. But I couldn’t please anyone. Couldn’t make them love me.”
    “Didn’t need to worry about that though,” she says, repeating me almost word for word.
    “Why is that?” I grin at her, wriggling my brows. I cannot wait to hear her answer. Surely, she showed them how wrong they were. Surely, she left town in a blaze of glory as she headed across the ocean and started a whole new life.
    “Because I learned to be happy and love myself without them,” she says, momentarily stunning me with her confession.
    You make me happy. “We have a lot in common, you and I.”
    She gives me a sad smile. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”
    “Not at all.”
    “You’re just saying that because you want me to blog about your massive paycheck.”
    “Shut up.” I take her hand in mine and kiss the knuckles, something I’ve been doing at least two or three times an hour.
    As we get closer to the bank, I check the rearview mirror.
    Dmitry pulls back, the distance between us growing. He takes the next left and that’s the signal for all’s clear.
    “There it is,” Morgan all but squeals. “I’ve never been so happy to see a bloody cross in my life.”
    “It’s not supposed to be bloody,” I point out.
    “I know,” she says wryly. “I was attempting to be English.”
    “Point made.”
    As we inch closer, the feeling that this is a