Page 74 of Killer Love

“You knocked up the Zappia princess?”

The others must have filled him in this morning. If there’s anyone in this world whose look of disappointment stings more than my father’s, it’s Markov’s.

“Yeah.” I nod, feeling a soft pang of hesitation.

He stares at me for a long moment. Finally, the look of stern accusation melts away and he grins with sinful pride.

I smile and step away from him, leaving him alone to chuckle to himself while he works at his computer. At least somebody can see the humor in this situation.

“What did I miss?” I ask, taking the empty seat on the sofa next to Fox’s stiff posture.

While the rest of us sit with ease, Fox stays on his guard. I don’t exactly blame him. If I were a snake in the Lutrova house, I’d also suspect I might never slither out again.

My father gestures at Fox. “Show him,” he says, flicking a finger at me.

“Show me what?” I ask.

Fox raises his shirt to reveal his torso.

I look down, my eyes instantly drawn to the black ink cobra printed from his chest down to his navel, along with several white scars scattered around his skin. He’s earned his skills, that much I’m sure about.

“That is what I saw,” my father says, pointing at it, “down in the cellar when I was a boy.”

“Every Snake Eyes agent has one,” Fox says to me, dropping his shirt.

“Looks painful,” I note.

“It was.”

“How many of you are there?” Yuri asks.

“Hundreds, maybe,” Fox answers. “I can’t say for sure exactly. Once you’re recruited, you’re assigned to a squad — usually made up of less than a dozen agents or so. Your squad leader is as high up the chain as you’ll ever see unless you’re promoted, but that’s rare.”

“Who is at the top?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I never met her.”

“Her?” Yuri repeats.

“That’s the only thing the average agent knows about The Boss, but my squad leader seemed pretty close to her. They spoke often.”

“Will she be on this list?” I ask.

“Theoretically,” he nods, “we all should be.”

“Including the agent who killed Viktor Lutrova?” my father asks.

We all look at him and Fox nods.

“Yes, sir.”

My father scratches his chin and glances at Markov’s back with anticipation. “Markov, how’s it going?”

“Patience, Niko.” Markov doesn’t turn around. “I am good, but not fast.”

An impatient sigh. “And all of this is true?” my father asks Fox.

“I have no reason to lie to you, Mr. Lutrova.”

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