I don't panic.
"Seems you also wanted him dead," I say, my voice calm. I try to shift, to turn and see who's holding the gun, but the barrel presses harder into my skin, and I stop. "Who are you?"
"Drop weapon. Now," the voice says.
It's a woman. Her voice is smooth and coated in a Russian accent.
I smile.
"Oh, a Russian woman. Now this is interesting."
She doesn't respond. The gun stays pressed against my skull, unmoving.
I open my fingers slowly, letting my gun clatter to the floor. It lands with a dull thud on the rug. She kicks it away, and I hear it scrape across the wood.
"Put your hands on head," she says in her Russian accent.
I comply, lacing my fingers behind my head, elbows out. My suit jacket pulls tight across my shoulders.
She steps closer, into my space. I feel her presence behind me, the faint scent of jasmine mixing with the stench of blood.
Her hands slide over my chest, quickly checking for weapons. She pats down my sides. She finds the lock pick kit in my breast pocket and tosses it to the floor. Then her hands move lower.
"Do you have blonde hair and blue eyes?" I ask, my voice smooth, conversational. "I'm a sucker for those. I bet you do."
She doesn't respond. She finds my phone and tosses it, then her hands continue their search, sliding down my left leg, checking my ankle for a gun. Nothing there, so she moves to the right leg, repeating the process.
"Oh, usually, women buy me a drink before putting their hands on my thighs."
Her hands pause for the briefest moment. Then she presses the gun barrel harder against my back.
"Usually, men don't talk this much right before they die."
I laugh.
"There she is."
She stands back up, and I feel the pressure of the gun shift back up to my neck.
"I have to get a good look at you," I say.
Slowly, I turn around, ignoring the gun aimed at me.
She's dressed in all black, the fabric tight against her body, hugging every curve perfectly. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a high bun, not a strand out of place. Her face is sharp, and she's fucking beautiful. High cheekbones, full lips, and piercing blue eyes.
The dark parts of me come alive, and instantly, I'm dangerously aroused.
I let my gaze travel from her face down to her boots and back up again.
"I came here to this shit hole to kill a rat," I say, my voice calm. "But I'll admit, the scenery just drastically improved."
She remains completely unimpressed by my charm. Her expression doesn't change, her gun steady.
She takes a step back, creating distance, but she doesn't lower the weapon.
"Oh, come on," I say. "Beautiful girl like you, I'm sure you get hit on all the time. Shit, I don't know Russian, but now I want to learn."
Her lips twitch just slightly, with a hint of a smile.