Christmas passed and then came the five insipid days between then and New Years Eve, where time seemed to be sucked into the vacuum of space only to be spit back out at the pace of a snail on depressants, each day seeming longer and longer than the last.
The Russian skies were overcast to match my scheming brain, and every day that passed was a day I was closer and closer to delivering the kill strike I'd spent so long planning and plotting for.
Just thinking about it all finally coming to fruition made me smile chillingly with Machiavellian delight.
"What are you smiling like that for?" Marco's head popped over the dress bag I was holding up. "You look like you're about to ruin someone's day."
"I just might, DiBiancci."
