He's wrong the second he enters my frame.
There’s nothing specific that screams assassin, but I see it. He’s moving slightly too slow for someone on a delivery schedule. The bag across his shoulder sits wrong. The helmet is pushed up, giving him an unobstructed view. He’s too close to the curb.
I set down the book.
He's angling toward the restaurant. Toward the sidewalk seating.
I see Anton, her bodyguard, move.
He’s been stationed at the corner of the outdoor seating area since they arrived. He’s been her guard for years. Better than the two assholes who had let her out of their sight that night. Mid-thirties. Built like a mountain. One of the few I trust around her. The only one who truly pays attention.
He saw the guy on the bike and is already moving.
I'm out of my chair in a flash.
Anton is faster.
He's off the corner and between the biker and the railing in two seconds. The guy makes his move. I catch sight of something in his hand. Not hard to figure out it’s a gun. Anton bats at the man’s arm, keeping his body between the gun and Sofia.
I’m already moving across the street.
I ignore the horns and curses in several languages.
I hear the usual gasps and the retreating footsteps as people recognize the danger and scatter.
Anton has the biker in a choke hold, talking into the microphone clipped to his collar. An SUV tears down the street, left tires on the sidewalk.
Her men.
Sofia is rushing into the restaurant with her friend. A few people have their phones out, recording the scene, but no one is calling the police.
Anton meets my gaze.
He knows me. Not personally, we’ve never spoken. But he's been doing this job long enough to notice things. Including me. He’s never said anything, but I’ve seen the warning in those looks. He knows I’m watching. He doesn’t know why, but he’s already decided I’m not a threat.
He nods once.
The kind of nod that says,I know what I'm looking at. She's okay. Stand down.
The SUV pulls up next to Anton. A man jumps out of the passenger seat, drags the messenger inside, and the vehicle weaves through traffic and disappears.
Another SUV with blackened windows pulls to a stop at the curb. It looks like any other rideshare. Anton has an arm around Sofia’s shoulders, guiding her to the waiting vehicle. Sofia turns and says something to Tori, who is staring at the scene wide-eyed.
And then Sofia is gone.
I walk back to my table and pull out my phone.
“Boss,” Nelson answers.
“Stay close. She’s headed to the gym. There was an attempt.”
“Will do.”
I end the call and calmly walk the two blocks to where my Mercedes-Maybach is parked. My father never drove. Said it was too risky. It is. But sometimes I need that control.
I call Kirill and tell him what happened. He knows what to do.
I pull to the curb in front of my brownstone. One of my men is there to take the keys and park my car in a secure garage. I enjoy the freedom of driving myself, but I’m not foolish enough to leave it on the street for an enemy to plant a bomb inside.