Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Accidental Lover (Exit Strategy #5) |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Jocelynn Drake |
| Language: | English |
| ISBN/ ASIN: | B08XWBKDMJ |
| Book Information: | |
Time for the younger generation to make its mark! Alexei is determined to prove to his beloved uncles, Justin and Gabriel, that he’s got what it takes to follow in their accomplished footsteps. It’s just that this new target is a little more than he bargained for. No worries. Maybe he’d just show this old dog that he knows plenty of fun tricks. | |
| Books in Series: | Exit Strategy Series by Jocelynn Drake |
| Books by Author: | Jocelynn Drake |
Chapter 1
There was nothing like hunting in the middle of a crowd.
And Alexei loved a good party.
People were scantily dressed, well lubricated—usually with alcohol, but sometimes other things—and always so happy to welcome an unfamiliar face. The bigger the party, the more opportunities to get lost in the crowd and snuggle close to a target.
His uncle Gabriel hated the party scene. He liked the one-on-one hit, the quick in and out. His uncle didn’t mind getting his hands dirty, but he hated mingling with strangers and putting a fake smile on his face. That was Gabriel’s idea of a nightmare.
But for Alexei the smile usually wasn’t fake. He was a social butterfly like his other uncle, Justin. Or rather, uncle-in-law, but really, both men had raised him for more than half his life. He adored them, and they’d taught him everything they knew.
And that included how to efficiently hunt and kill a mark.
Tonight’s objective was an arms dealer who operated in Kiev and Budapest, but he was apparently spending the summer months in London. That was perfect since Alexei had decided to spend the summer months hiding—er, rather, hanging out in Europe.
The posh London town house was loaded with people in sparkling outfits. Everyone had a drink or even two in their hands. Everyone was laughing or dancing. And with the sheer volume of alcohol—and possibly drugs—being consumed, Alexei was sure no one was going to notice that he wasn’t technically on the guest list and didn’t actually know anyone there.
He’d been at the party for only twenty minutes, flirted with a few men and women, and sipped a drink. His target was constantly on the move among the guests, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, and generally acting like a magnanimous king. Alexei was careful to remain out of his line of sight. He wasn’t worried Gabor Kalman would realize he wasn’t a party guest—the man had far more money than brains in his head when it came to social situations.
Sure, he had two bodyguards on hand, but the idiots were only watching the guests who came in through the front door. They didn’t notice Alexei coming over the back hedge, weaving through the catering staff, and instantly blending with the crowd gathered around the open bar.
With a drink in his hand and an open smile, Alexei had waltzed right past the two gun-toting behemoths and they hadn’t even blinked at him, an assassin in their midst.
One of Uncle Justin’s first lessons: Don’t be afraid to hide in plain sight.
And that was Alexei’s favorite way to make a move: To be right there where he could be seen but completely overlooked. It was as if he were mocking them, daring them to underestimate the cute twink with the glitter lipstick and to-die-for cheekbones.
Because, seriously, his cheekbones were a gift from God.
Everyone only saw harmless when they looked at him. He was a baby bunny. A lost lamb. A cinnamon roll. The twinkiest twink who ever twinked, and he needed to be protected.
Then he’d kill his mark in the blink of an eye, and their last expression would be one of absolute shock. Because yeah, they’d just gotten killed by a sparkly-eyed cinnamon roll.
Of course, he’d only been doing this gig for a couple of years. He was still trying to build up his reputation, and it meant taking some nasty jobs here and there, but he drew the same line his uncles always had: No innocent people for targets. Nothing that would hurt kids.
Gabor Kalman was no innocent man. He’d sold arms to lots of bad people, from drug manufacturers to terrorists to dealers of sex slaves. Someone had finally scratched the money together to take the asshole out. Of course, it was surprising that he didn’t have better security, considering he was in the arms market.
But then, the bastard also had a reputation. People might have stayed away from him rather than ruin their access to weapons.
The guy deserved to be put on his knees in the middle of this crowd and have two bullets shot into the back of his head, but it would make leaving the party quietly pretty much impossible. No, Alexei planned to do it the one way he was sure Gabor would never see it coming—with a handshake.
Standing out on the rear patio with his drink in hand, Alexei slowly pivoted on his heels, scanning the crowd. There were a few faces among the partygoers who looked familiar. Some musicians, a couple of actors, and possibly a politician or two. Interesting. How many of them knew Gabor’s line of work? How many of them would actually care?
Not just “social media” care, with a quick tweet or TikTok video condemning all that Gabor Kalman represented to save face or even gain credibility, but truly care down in their souls. Probably not many.