Berlin (Leo & Allissa International Thrillers Book 3), Luke Richardson [any book recommendations .txt] 📗

The question had made Anafisa think, though. What was it she liked about the drugs?

It took her a while to figure it out. But when she did it just seemed obvious.

Nothing.

That’s right. Nothing.

She liked the drugs because for once, she was able to think about nothing. Anafisa felt that she had always been on the go. She was always racing from one place to the next. Always trying to do something or be somewhere or escape from something. Whether it was an overbearing husband or her debt to Olezka, there was always something...

The drugs stopped that. They were a release. The ultimate release.

Anafisa put the cigarette between her lips, grabbed the lighter from the passenger seat, lit up and inhaled. Anafisa inhaled so hard her cheeks drew inwards. It looked as though she was trying to pull not just the smoke, but the whole contents of the cigarette into her lungs. That was probably true. She looked down at the cigarette’s flaming end in her right hand. She just needed to get this into her body as quickly as possible.

Anafisa held the smoke for a few seconds. It felt as though it were seeping into every sinew and synapse. Then, she exhaled. A delicious, luxurious cloud of smoke poured from her nose and mouth.

Anafisa closed her eyes and enjoyed the tingle of warmth. This was it. This was why she’d let herself get close to Borya and Keal, and why she’d built up such a big debt to Olezka. This was the stuff. This was what Anafisa needed.

Running her hand across the car door, Anafisa found the button and slid the windows down. The cool night air tumbled in and cleared the smoke. This was it. This was the best.

At first, like everyone, Anafisa had snorted it. Lined it up on glass or mirrors and snorted through notes or straws. Dug it out of a dirty packet with keys or cards. Filthy. Disgusting. Inefficient.

Borya had been the one to show her that smoking it was the way. No mess. No Fuss. And smoking took the hit straight to the brain. Within seconds you were dancing with it. Borya knew the way.

As the tingle subsided and the colours drained from her vision, Anafisa put the cigarette to her lips again. She drew a deep breath, expecting to feel the warm, thick smoke fill her lungs once more. Nothing.

She tried again. Still nothing.

Anafisa opened her eyes and looked at the cigarette. It had gone out.

Mudak! Where was that lighter?

Anafisa blinked in an attempt to focus, and looked around. She ran her hand across the leather upholstery of the passenger seat — nothing. Checked her lap — nope. Ran her fingers across the car’s central console — not there. She glanced down and saw it on the floor between her feet. Anafisa grabbed it, flipped open the lid and re-lit the cigarette. Then, with a smile, she placed it back between her lips.

Ahhhhh!

Colours bubbled across her mind. A tingle flew across her skin. This was it — the calm, beautiful nothingness of a drug-induced haze.

Outside the car, everything was reduced to zero. The dark woodland — she didn’t notice that. The mumbling city — that was none of her concern. Whatever happened between Borya and Olezka up here on this bleak evening — Anafisa didn’t care about that.

She didn’t even notice the dark figure standing fifty metres from the car. She didn’t notice the figure draw a pistol and screw a silencer into place. Anafisa paid no attention.

As the figure crossed towards the Maserati, Anafisa was clinging to the last tingles of the high. And as the figure raised the gun in one gloved hand and cradled it with the other, Anafisa was swimming in the nothingness of addiction. As the silencer made a whisper of the gunshot, Anafisa, in a way, got what she always wanted.

Anafisa got to think of nothing. Forever.

“Trying to fuck with me,” Olezka said, sliding the gun back beneath his jacket. “That will teach the bitch.”

67

Minty exhaled as his hand closed around the strap of the bag. He had the money. He pictured himself, just a few minutes from now, getting back to the house — no concern about being followed this time as they wouldn’t be staying long — getting into the car and driving out of the city.

He’d done it. He was set for life.

Borya was still talking beside him, although Minty didn’t hear. He was already enjoying the spoils of the bag’s contents.

Then, everything changed.

From the dark stairwell came a voice which made the blood in Minty’s veins run cold.

“You thought you could just fuck us over, did you?”

Something thumped deep inside Minty’s skull. The ground felt as though it was moving. Through blurred vision, he tried to peer into the darkness. Dark shapes moved somewhere beyond the light.

Although he couldn’t yet see the voice’s owner, he knew who it was.

“Now you’ve made me come all this way just to get what’s mine.”

A shadow stepped from the gloom.

Minty’s head pounded. His stomach bubbled. His legs begged to run. With blanching knuckles, he clutched the bag’s handle.

There was nowhere to go. The voice was coming from the building’s only stairwell.

Borya’s expression melted from shock to fear.

“Stop now and drop that.”

Borya’s hand, which had been creeping inside the green coat, froze.

The light of a powerful torch snapped on.

“Take the gun out and drop it,” the intruder said, stepping further forward. Borya stood rigid. Minty watched a flicker of a dilemma on Borya’s pale complexion. Fight or flight?

Minty tried to look at the intruder but was dazzled by the bright torchlight. He could just make out the man’s wide silhouette. The shape filled him with fear. One man at the back held the light while the other advanced further forwards.

Minty’s eyes narrowed at the approaching figure. He looked for anything to reassure him it wasn’t the man he feared.

The man stepped closer again. He had some kind of night vision device strapped across his