Russian Killer's Baby by Bella Rose Page B

an insult to Vadir’s memory. “He was good for money. I think of him as a man who knew what was important.”
    Annika couldn’t help it. She had to say something . “In other words, you appreciated his selfish nature because you feel like it validates your equally selfish nature.”
    He belted out a laugh so loud it hurt her ears within the close confines of the car. “ Da! Exactly! It is good that you can see the practical side of things. That will make today much easier for you.”
    “Oh, you mean when you kill me?” It hurt to say the words, but she wasn’t about to back down. She wanted this asshole to acknowledge that he was taking her life. She wanted him to see her as a person before he attempted it.
    Yuri steered the car between two narrow brownstones, heading into a tiny parking area located in what had probably once been a carriage yard. He parked and then shut off the engine. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. There was something so frankly assessing about his gaze that it gave her the creeps.
    “You are not what you seem, you know that?” There was nothing flippant in his tone now. “You think that by making yourself real to me as a person, I will have trouble killing you.”
    “Unless you’re a sociopath,” she told him flatly. “So I’m going to guess that’s pretty much what you are.”
    “I prefer to call myself driven.” He shrugged. “But I suppose a weakling like you might see it in another light.”
    “Yeah, you could say that.”
    “Time to get out.” Yuri flung open his door and stepped out of the car. “You run, I shoot. Simple. Understand?”
    Annika gingerly got out of the passenger door. If this jerk kept up his jerk routine, she was going to shoot him herself. “Since I’m not a sociopath and I’m not retarded, yes. I understand.”
    She followed Yuri’s lead into the house. The narrow structure looked sleepy. There was only one light on in the kitchen, and Annika could see a portly woman working away at the counter. She wondered if Yuri’s father knew his son’s plans, and hoped none of the staff would get caught in the crossfire.
    “Mister Yuri!” the woman said with surprise when they walked into the kitchen through the back door. “Mr. Orlov did not tell me you were coming for breakfast.”
    “I wasn’t expected.” He waved carelessly at the woman. “Go and wake him for me. We need to talk.”
    “Mr. Orlov doesn’t appreciate being woken before seven, Mister Yuri,” she admonished in a firm tone.
    It was obvious that the housekeeper had some experience dealing with her employer’s spoiled son. Annika held her breath, waiting to see how this would pan out. Yuri had gone so far down the path toward crazy that he wasn’t likely to appreciate any obstacles.
    Sure enough, Yuri pulled out a gun and stuck it right in the older woman’s face. Her expression froze, her mouth open in a round O of surprise. Yuri waved the weapon, presumably jerking the barrel in the direction of his father’s bedroom.
    The lady scurried off, apparently convinced she’d better do as “Mister Yuri” said or risk death. Annika wouldn’t blame her if she quit her post and never came back.
    “You really have a way with people,” Annika quipped.
    “And you really have a death wish to be questioning me all the time.”
    “Do I really have anything to lose? You’ve already said you’re going to kill me.”
    He shrugged, snagged two pastries off the counter and shoved them into his mouth.
    He struck her as oddly juvenile in his behavior. “Did no one ever set boundaries for you as a child? You’re like some spoiled teenager with a gun and entirely too much license to make his own choices.”
    “Shut. Up,” he snarled.
    Interesting. Of all the things she’d said, that was the first that seemed to really get to him. Annika filed that away and followed Yuri’s lead into the next room. The space was crammed full of antique furniture and couches. It looked like an