Page 10 of Lethal Legacy

Danger.The life force of our family.

He thumps the chair again. “Petrovsky—work—enough.”

My heart twists so hard it hurts. I know what he means.

Sergei Petrovsky is almost ninety years old. He has worked from the time he was born in a Russian gulag until his first stroke at eighty-four. Along the way he’s lost two wives to violence and hardship, and all but two of his children. Through it all, never once did my father lose faith.

And never once did he stop working.

He worked tirelessly his entire life, to ensure that the next generation of Petrovskys wouldn’t have to.

Yet now he’s here, the strongest man I know stuck in a squalid hotel I can barely afford, being babysat by illegal workers I have to bribe. We have hardly enough money to buy breakfast, let alone new identities.

In all the six years I have been running, this moment feels pretty close to being the lowest.

Roman Stevanovsky’s words pop unexpectedly into my mind, even though this morning seems like a lifetime ago:“A life without danger is like sex without passion—not really worth having. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Lopez?”

In some strange way, those words give me comfort.

Danger is lifeblood.

It keeps me alive, and Papa alert.

The life that was stolen from us still exists out there. I have to believe that everything we are enduring now is just another step on the way to building it back.

“Papa.” I cover his hands with my own, speaking in the Russian of my childhood. “Do you remember what you used to tell me, when I asked you to let us see inside the vault?”

He shakes his head impatiently, but I go on anyway. “You always said the same words:‘that is a story for another day, myshka.’Then you would tell me that loyalty, honor, and integrity are treasures far greater than any behind that locked door. You said that a future built on those qualities cannot be bought or inherited, only earned. Well—now is my time, and Alexei’s time, to earn our own futures.” I grip his hands, and he tightens his own around them, his eyes boring fiercely into mine.

“But I promise you this, Papa: one day, Alexei and I will take back everything Vilnus stole from us.

“All of it.

“And on the day we open that vault, we will have earned the right to call ourselves Petrovskys again. We will have earned the right to call ourselves Sergei Petrovsky’s children.”

3

LUCIA

At 7:30 the next morning, I’m woken by a text from Roman Stevanovsky.

You’re late, Miss Lopez. Coffee. In my office. As soon as you arrive.

I stare at my phone in astonishment.

You havegotto be fucking kidding me.

My uniform is still damp, and there’s no time to braid my hair. Even at a run, it’s almost nine a.m. by the time I’ve ridden the elevator to the top floor of Hale Corp, where a tearstained assistant is clearing out her desk. Before I’ve finished explaining why I’m here, the intercom on her desk buzzes.

“Send her in,” Roman barks.

Balancing the tray precariously on one hand, I open the heavy door and step into an office big enough to rival his penthouse. Roman Stevanovsky is standing by the plate glass windows with his back to me, hands thrust deep into his pockets, which makes it almost impossible for me not to look at his entirely too perfect ass. I can smell the faint hint of citrus and leather that always clings to him, fresh and somehow smoky.

Hellfire.

“You left without a tip when you delivered my food yesterday.”

Oh, that voice.Low, gravelly, and enough to make my body go from exhausted to quivering arousal in all of six words.

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