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A review by julie_loves_books
Last Hit by Jessica Clare, Jen Frederick
5.0
"If Nick is darkness with a kernel of light inside him, I am light with the matching kernel of darkness. It’s what makes us so perfect for one another."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There is nothing like finding a hidden gem when you least expect it. Not only is this one of my favorite hitman books, but it's one of my favorite stalker books as well. Nikolai Andrushko is the full package. Hired killer by day and the sweetest brand of stalker by night.
I adored these two! Nikolai is a lone hitman. Daisy has just left home after being sheltered by an agoraphobic father. Both of them have led lonely, solitaire lives. Neither of them knows anything about friendly or romantic relationships. Daisy learned bits and pieces from reading romance novels and Nikolai has gone so far as hiring prostitutes to teach him how to cuddle.
When they finally meet and try to even speak to one another it's some of the sweetest most awkward moments that you'll ever read. Flirting is hard. Acting natural is hard. Watching them find their way is adorable and often times hilarious. Nikolai stumbles so many times that he finally asks a fellow hitman, whom he barely knows, for dating advice. He just never seems to be able to do or say the right things.
I can't tell you how much I enjoyed this book. In addition to well developed characters and a great story, the dialogue and dead pan humor is written and delivered so perfectly. I adored Nick and his affection for Daisy. They each had their own insecurities, but made each other believe that they could love. It's such a sweet, sweet story. If you love hitman stalkers that have a dry sense of humor, that will go to the ends of the world to protect their woman and would do everything in their power to make her happy, this book is for you.
Nicknames/Endearments: Kitten, Little Flower, Kotehok, Milaya Moya
Tomorrow, perhaps I will talk to her. I will tell her that she smells of fresh air and wide spaces. That her blue eyes remind me of the sky above the Ural Mountains. I want to drown in them.
There are freckles on her cheeks and forehead. Standing so close, there are details here that I could not have captured from my scope, my night-vision goggles, my paltry imagination. Daisy is a riot of colors with her chestnut-colored hair and her blue eyes. Her pale skin is lovely even in this dimly lit basement. It is a good thing, I decide, that I’ve yet to see Daisy fully exposed in the sun. I may die. Ah, but that would be a happy death.
The light is fading fast, and I don’t want to be out with Daisy on my bike when it is too late—when the dangerous drivers are out. Alone, I can avoid these people, but with my precious cargo, I would be worried.
I want to go to my room so I can think privately about my Ukrainian.
“You want to go to a movie?” I ask.
“With you, I will go anywhere.”
“Are you going to kiss me on this date?” I ask. He looks surprised at my words.
“Do you wish for me to kiss you?”
“Yes,” I say firmly.
“Then, da, I will kiss you.” His face relaxes.
“Let’s kiss now,” I tell him.
So many things I do well. I track. I synthesize information into discernible patterns. I follow through. I kill. Those things I am competent at. Courting, I am not.
“I always speak wrong when I am around you. My words never come out right.” His fingers brush over my mouth, oh so gently. “I want to get things right, but I just make worse. You deserve better.”
Nick has already programmed my name into the phone as D8Z, and the background is a picture of white daisies.
“I feel like I am not worthy of you.”
“Me?” She lets out a small huff.
“I feel like I’m not experienced enough for you.” She smiles like we are a pair of fools. And we are. I curve my own lips upward.
“You are just right for me.” I look down at her hands and then into her eyes. “Am I right for you?”
“I revel in these signs,” I tell her, whispering the words against the delicate swirl of her ear. She shivers as I trace the outline of the lobe and lick the tender skin behind it. “These signs tell me that my woman’s body sings for me.”
“Are you wearing panties I have bought you, Daisy?” I ask. “Did you think of me when you pulled them up your legs and squeezed your thighs together? Did you wonder what it would be like if it were my hands there instead of the silk and lace that I purchased for you?” She gives me what I want. A panting, breathless “yes.” “May I see?”
“A woman’s cunt is soft, delicious thing,” he tells me. “Like flower with delicate petals.” His thumb strokes down the center of my panties, and I feel him outline the seam of my sex. I am so damp that the panties stick to my skin, and it makes the visual obscene. I am horrified and fascinated by it all at once.
“Should I be this wet?” I ask him.
“Only if I am lucky man.”
“Nick—” He lifts his head to gaze up at me, his mouth slick with my own wetness. “The way you say my name with my mouth on your cunt—it is a dream.” He lowers his head again, but not before adding, “I want to hear it when you come.”
“Sweet Daisy,” he murmurs. “Now I make you come.”
D8Z: How often do you watch me? What do you see?
Nick: I see treasure beyond value. I see beauty without compare. I see your every gesture exudes pleasure and joy in even smallest things. I see delight in simply existing. I see you, Daisy.
I have so little of worth to offer Daisy. That I could buy her a phone or a few pieces of clothing or even pay her rent is the only thing I can provide, and she rejects even that. I want something more with Daisy. I want, perhaps, to not kill anymore. To live with her in a tiny apartment and eat food made by her hands and make love to her every evening. And maybe some mornings. Also afternoons.
“I am yours, little flower. Do anything you like.”
“Will you like it?” I squeeze my fist around him, fascinated by how hard his length is, how hot and smooth and silky the delicate skin covering it is.
“Da," he says, and the word is thick. "I would love it."
“Take your panties off.” I gasp.
“Why?”
“So I can take care of you."
“Spasibo.” He laughs, surprised at my Russian.
“Why do you thank me?”
“For caring enough to care about how I feel.” He pulls me close again, snuggling with me on the bed.
“I do not think you realize, Daisy. You are everything to me."
“Where are we going?”
“To a hotel in Moscow.” His gaze flicks to the rearview mirror again.
“Gotta reunite Romeo and Juliet."
“Sergei has told you who I am, da? And now you are afraid of me.”
“You’re a hit man,” I say. “You all murder for money.” The words taste vile in my mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And what would I say to you, little Daisy?” There is so much pain in his voice. So much self-loathing. “That I want to kiss you and make love to you even though I am not worthy of your smallest attentions? Far better to say nothing. It is easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission."
His hand reaches up to brush my cheek, and when I flinch away, he flinches in return. “I knew I could not keep you,” he says. His voice is hoarse with emotion. “Such a beautiful, innocent soul. I just wanted you for as long as I could have you. I knew it was wrong and I did not care. Someday, I hope you forgive me."
Sergei doesn’t know it, but his words are working against him. Nick is who he has been created to be, just like I am who my father shaped me into. A little mentally twisted, a little sick in the head, and a lot lonely and needing of love.
“I don’t care what I have so long as I can be with you, kotehok. I am happy living in a box as long as you are sharing the box with me."
If Nick is darkness with a kernel of light inside him, I am light with the matching kernel of darkness. It’s what makes us so perfect for one another.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There is nothing like finding a hidden gem when you least expect it. Not only is this one of my favorite hitman books, but it's one of my favorite stalker books as well. Nikolai Andrushko is the full package. Hired killer by day and the sweetest brand of stalker by night.
I adored these two! Nikolai is a lone hitman. Daisy has just left home after being sheltered by an agoraphobic father. Both of them have led lonely, solitaire lives. Neither of them knows anything about friendly or romantic relationships. Daisy learned bits and pieces from reading romance novels and Nikolai has gone so far as hiring prostitutes to teach him how to cuddle.
When they finally meet and try to even speak to one another it's some of the sweetest most awkward moments that you'll ever read. Flirting is hard. Acting natural is hard. Watching them find their way is adorable and often times hilarious. Nikolai stumbles so many times that he finally asks a fellow hitman, whom he barely knows, for dating advice. He just never seems to be able to do or say the right things.
I can't tell you how much I enjoyed this book. In addition to well developed characters and a great story, the dialogue and dead pan humor is written and delivered so perfectly. I adored Nick and his affection for Daisy. They each had their own insecurities, but made each other believe that they could love. It's such a sweet, sweet story. If you love hitman stalkers that have a dry sense of humor, that will go to the ends of the world to protect their woman and would do everything in their power to make her happy, this book is for you.
Nicknames/Endearments: Kitten, Little Flower, Kotehok, Milaya Moya
Tomorrow, perhaps I will talk to her. I will tell her that she smells of fresh air and wide spaces. That her blue eyes remind me of the sky above the Ural Mountains. I want to drown in them.
There are freckles on her cheeks and forehead. Standing so close, there are details here that I could not have captured from my scope, my night-vision goggles, my paltry imagination. Daisy is a riot of colors with her chestnut-colored hair and her blue eyes. Her pale skin is lovely even in this dimly lit basement. It is a good thing, I decide, that I’ve yet to see Daisy fully exposed in the sun. I may die. Ah, but that would be a happy death.
The light is fading fast, and I don’t want to be out with Daisy on my bike when it is too late—when the dangerous drivers are out. Alone, I can avoid these people, but with my precious cargo, I would be worried.
I want to go to my room so I can think privately about my Ukrainian.
“You want to go to a movie?” I ask.
“With you, I will go anywhere.”
“Are you going to kiss me on this date?” I ask. He looks surprised at my words.
“Do you wish for me to kiss you?”
“Yes,” I say firmly.
“Then, da, I will kiss you.” His face relaxes.
“Let’s kiss now,” I tell him.
So many things I do well. I track. I synthesize information into discernible patterns. I follow through. I kill. Those things I am competent at. Courting, I am not.
“I always speak wrong when I am around you. My words never come out right.” His fingers brush over my mouth, oh so gently. “I want to get things right, but I just make worse. You deserve better.”
Nick has already programmed my name into the phone as D8Z, and the background is a picture of white daisies.
“I feel like I am not worthy of you.”
“Me?” She lets out a small huff.
“I feel like I’m not experienced enough for you.” She smiles like we are a pair of fools. And we are. I curve my own lips upward.
“You are just right for me.” I look down at her hands and then into her eyes. “Am I right for you?”
“I revel in these signs,” I tell her, whispering the words against the delicate swirl of her ear. She shivers as I trace the outline of the lobe and lick the tender skin behind it. “These signs tell me that my woman’s body sings for me.”
“Are you wearing panties I have bought you, Daisy?” I ask. “Did you think of me when you pulled them up your legs and squeezed your thighs together? Did you wonder what it would be like if it were my hands there instead of the silk and lace that I purchased for you?” She gives me what I want. A panting, breathless “yes.” “May I see?”
“A woman’s cunt is soft, delicious thing,” he tells me. “Like flower with delicate petals.” His thumb strokes down the center of my panties, and I feel him outline the seam of my sex. I am so damp that the panties stick to my skin, and it makes the visual obscene. I am horrified and fascinated by it all at once.
“Should I be this wet?” I ask him.
“Only if I am lucky man.”
“Nick—” He lifts his head to gaze up at me, his mouth slick with my own wetness. “The way you say my name with my mouth on your cunt—it is a dream.” He lowers his head again, but not before adding, “I want to hear it when you come.”
“Sweet Daisy,” he murmurs. “Now I make you come.”
D8Z: How often do you watch me? What do you see?
Nick: I see treasure beyond value. I see beauty without compare. I see your every gesture exudes pleasure and joy in even smallest things. I see delight in simply existing. I see you, Daisy.
I have so little of worth to offer Daisy. That I could buy her a phone or a few pieces of clothing or even pay her rent is the only thing I can provide, and she rejects even that. I want something more with Daisy. I want, perhaps, to not kill anymore. To live with her in a tiny apartment and eat food made by her hands and make love to her every evening. And maybe some mornings. Also afternoons.
“I am yours, little flower. Do anything you like.”
“Will you like it?” I squeeze my fist around him, fascinated by how hard his length is, how hot and smooth and silky the delicate skin covering it is.
“Da," he says, and the word is thick. "I would love it."
“Take your panties off.” I gasp.
“Why?”
“So I can take care of you."
“Spasibo.” He laughs, surprised at my Russian.
“Why do you thank me?”
“For caring enough to care about how I feel.” He pulls me close again, snuggling with me on the bed.
“I do not think you realize, Daisy. You are everything to me."
“Where are we going?”
“To a hotel in Moscow.” His gaze flicks to the rearview mirror again.
“Gotta reunite Romeo and Juliet."
“Sergei has told you who I am, da? And now you are afraid of me.”
“You’re a hit man,” I say. “You all murder for money.” The words taste vile in my mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And what would I say to you, little Daisy?” There is so much pain in his voice. So much self-loathing. “That I want to kiss you and make love to you even though I am not worthy of your smallest attentions? Far better to say nothing. It is easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission."
His hand reaches up to brush my cheek, and when I flinch away, he flinches in return. “I knew I could not keep you,” he says. His voice is hoarse with emotion. “Such a beautiful, innocent soul. I just wanted you for as long as I could have you. I knew it was wrong and I did not care. Someday, I hope you forgive me."
Sergei doesn’t know it, but his words are working against him. Nick is who he has been created to be, just like I am who my father shaped me into. A little mentally twisted, a little sick in the head, and a lot lonely and needing of love.
“I don’t care what I have so long as I can be with you, kotehok. I am happy living in a box as long as you are sharing the box with me."
If Nick is darkness with a kernel of light inside him, I am light with the matching kernel of darkness. It’s what makes us so perfect for one another.