Oceans of Fire
get in the way of my investigation, Ilya, or if you’re involved in any way, I’ll have to bring you in. You know that.”
    “You can try, Aleksandr, but we both will end up with more scars and my arthritis will be bad in my old age.”
    “If you don’t stop working for Sergei, you won’t live to be an old man.”
    “I’m walking away, Aleksandr.” Prakenskii took a cautious step back. “There’s no reason to do this. I wasn’t here to kill the woman.”
    “Why were you here?”
    Prakenskii hesitated, a small smile touching his cold mouth briefly. “Curiosity. I wanted to see what kind of woman could have so many men tied up in knots.”
    “Who?” The last thing Aleksandr wanted was for Sergei Nikitin to be interested in Abigail Drake. His mouth went dry at the thought. Prakenskii wasn’t the only killer working for Nikitin. And some of the others didn’t have Prakenskii‘s discipline or respect. They hadn’t trained with Aleksandr and didn’t know his reputation or capabilities the way Prakenskii did. “Why would Nikitin be interested in Abigail?”
    “I’m going, Aleksandr. Stay out of my way.”
    Aleksandr matched him step for step, the gun never wavering as they moved like dancers down the rough slope. “I heard my name was at the very top of a hit list, Ilya; is that why you’ve come?”
    “I would kill you to defend my life, Aleksandr, but even I have a code. I’m not here for you.” The hit man shrugged.
    His reply told Aleksandr that Prakenskii felt much the same way as Aleksandr did. They’d grown up together and had few people they were loyal to. It still mattered. It was one of the reasons Aleksandr never tried too hard to bring Prakenskii in. One never knew if he really was the killer he was reputed to be, or if he’d merely made powerful enemies in the wrong place. Just as Aleksandr had done.
    “You work for Nikitin, and I’ve heard he is in bed with Ignatev.” Aleksandr threw the name out to see what came back.
    “Women are trouble, Aleksandr, you should have remembered that.” Prakenskii risked a glance toward the cliff house. “Ignatev is a vengeful man and his hatred runs deep. He is a man who craves power and will get it any way that he can.”
    Aleksandr kept his gun trained on Prakenskii and continued to move with him step for step, careful to keep him in sight. He was a dangerous man, but he had a strange set of ethics. Aleksandr couldn’t quite figure him out. They both had grown up in and been trained in the same school, both perfecting the art of killing. Aleksandr had grown weary of the politics of espionage and chose police work. Prakenskii had grown impossible to control and the government put out a termination order on him. Everyone sent against him had been returned in a body bag. Aleksandr and Prakenskii had known each other too many years and they avoided one another unless Prakenskii was on the wrong side of one of Aleksandr’s cases. Their meetings usually ended up in a bloody battle neither won.
    Would she be safer with Prakenskii dead or alive? Killing Ilya would cost Aleksandr his own life. He had no doubt about that and his death would leave Abbey without protection against Sergei Nikitin. Aleksandr risked a glance up at the balcony. Abbey had gone inside, unaware of the two men facing off on the hillside leading to her home.
    He let his breath out in a sigh of relief and continued to follow Prakenskii, hoping for a mistake on the hit man’s part. Ilya didn’t lose his footing on the steep slope, nor did he take his gaze from Aleksandr, as he made his way to the car hidden partially by a wild bramble of bushes.
    “Watch your back, Aleksandr,” Prakenskii advised as he slid behind the wheel of the black Acura. His gun remained pointed at Aleksandr’s head. “There are things here best left alone.“
    “Abigail Drake is best left alone,” Aleksandr replied.
    “She is a weakness that can be exploited.”
    “She is death for any who seeks to harm

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