In For the Kill Read Online Free PDF

recycling bin at the pastry bar across the street. Tables were out beneath the striped awning, but it was too cold to sit out there. The guy was now ten minutes late.
    He could still change his mind, and run like hell.
    It scared him shitless, to choose the meeting place. Too much responsibility. He had no faith in his own wits. He’d failed to cover his tracks before. Sonia had trusted him, believed in him, and made him believe in himself. She’d shown him a way out of this black hole—and he had let her down. Let her die. He’d been paralyzed ever since. Afraid to move a muscle, or even think a thought for himself.
    But it was Sveti in danger now. Careless, brainless idiot that he was, to have watched her online lecture with Josef in the room. He was so used to pretending he was alone while they guarded him. So used to being ignored. He tried to bore his guards into a coma, and mostly he succeeded. Being guarded upstairs was far preferable to being locked in the hole downstairs. More air. He’d been watching Sveti on the tablet on autopilot, just to look at the face of another human being who did not despise him. Just to listen to her soft, musical voice. It soothed him.
    But Sveti just had to choose that particular photograph of Sonia to project in that lecture. And in all the time she’d spoken, Josef just happened to look over Sasha’s shoulder at that precise, disastrous moment. Now doom was crashing down on one of the last people on earth Sasha still dared to care about. All his fault. As usual.
    Ironically, it was only because Josef had gone hunting Sveti that Sasha had escaped. Josef was the smartest of his father’s men, of the ones in Rome, at least. The cruelest, too. Aleksei and Andrei and the others were stupid and lazy by comparison.
    He had tried to be careful and methodical in his planning. Witnesses would make it harder for his father’s men to slaughter them outright, but there could not be too many, so as to minimize the carnage if things went bad. The bar was in a business district, but it was early for the breakfast rush. If the man arrived at all. Lives at stake, and the guy was twelve fucking minutes late.
    Sasha’s life was over at this point, that was certain. Circling down the drain. It was a familiar feeling, that vertiginous swirl, the hollow gurgle. Down he went, lower than dirt. A piece of meat to be chopped up and sold by the pound. He ached to shoot some blessed peace into his veins and let the stabbing pain smooth out. But his stash was all gone, after months of captivity in the Rome house. He was clean. Horribly lucid. His nerves were raw, his belly a black hole, a cigarette burn.
    And he had a job to do. He wouldn’t have to wait long for it to end. They would find him soon enough, and put a vicious end to him. Unless he beat them to it, of course. He’d dragged his heels on that, for Misha’s sake, but his continued existence did Misha no favors. It forced his brother to choose sides. Choosing against their father was bad for Misha’s health. It would be best for everyone if Sasha erased himself.
    But not today. All his limited courage was focused on blowing this secret open. If the world knew, there would be no point in hurting Sveti. His father and his crew would have far more urgent things to do.
    There. Mauro Mongelli, strolling up the street. Sasha recognized him from the photo on his column. Terror turned his legs floppy and boneless. The journalist seated himself at one of the outside tables and called for a barista. He looked ill at ease, eyes darting around. Sasha had been clear about the dangers, but no true journalist could resist a career-changing scoop like this one, no matter the risk.
    Sasha clutched the envelope holding the documentation he’d gathered: Sonia’s photos and videos, the computer files, the e-mails and screenshots. Proving what he’d found the courage to do, six years ago. He had almost won his