Page 143 of Lethal Legacy

“Like nobody’s watching, babyyyy,” Abby says, waving her hands dreamily in the air. “Who needs a nightclub? This radio station is ridiculous. It’s the bomb.”

“I know.” I dump more wine into my glass. “How is it that Spain can have an entire radio station dedicated to obscure ’80s music the rest of the world has forgotten about? It actually makes Spotify redundant.”

“One of the many reasons I straight-up love this country.” She waves an empty bottle in the air. “That, and the fact that the vino is cheap. Which is lucky, since we’ve run out.”

“Nooooo!” I flop onto the sofa. “This was poor planning on our part, Abs.”

“We could go out dancing?” she says doubtfully.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Even if I was sober that would be a bad idea.”

“Fine. There’s a shop on the corner. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” Abby reaches for her bag.

“No.” I grab her hand. “I don’t mean to be overprotective, Abs. But it isn’t just me who’s in danger right now.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, man. You’re as bad as Dimitry. He insists on picking me up from work every night. He even got all the locks on the apartment changed.”

“I’m glad, Abs.” I squeeze her hand. “Dimitry’s a good man. I’m glad he’s looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” She shoots me a shy smile. “Me, too. Ha!” Her eyes gleam suddenly. “Talking of that, maybe now is a good time to test his instructions that I should call, no matter the time, if I am, quote,even thinkingabout going outside on my own at night.”

“You’re shameless.” I shake my head, laughing, as Abby takes out her phone. “Do you mind not mentioning that I’m here?”

“My lips are sealed.” She punches out a text message. “Or rather my thumbs are. Oh, look, my experiment worked!” She beams at me. “Liquor delivery on the way.”

43

ROMAN

“If you think I’m getting back into that boxing ring, you can fucking think again.” Dimitry glares at me. “I don’t mind being your punching bag, Roman. But twelve days out of fourteen is starting to push the friendship. And Abby’s starting to wonder why I turn up with a new black eye every couple of days.”

“Suit yourself,” I snarl, heading for the ring. “I’ll find someone else to spar with.”

“Good luck.” He crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows. “Look around, brother. There’s not another soul in the place. They’ve all started running the minute they see you walk in.”

I glare around the studio.

Motherfucker’s right. The place is empty.

“I’m going to give you some advice,” Dimitry says. “And don’t bother giving me the death stare. You know it doesn’t work on me anyway.”

“I’m not fucking interested.”

“I don’t give a shit.” He moves in front of me. “Whatever’s happened between you and Lucia, you need to fix it.”

“Don’t say that goddamn name.” I thud my fist into a nearby bag, only barely restraining myself from landing it on Dimitry’s face. “Ever. Don’t ever say that name again.”

His eyes narrow. “Wow. That might be a bit of a challenge. Seeing as, I don’t know, she’slivingwith you?”

“With the children. Whole different thing. And not for much fucking longer, so I wouldn’t get attached.” I thud another fist into the bag.

“Bullshit, Roman. If you wanted her out, she’d be gone already.”

“Don’t”—thud—“want”—thud—“to upset kids.” I unleash a lightning left-right cross that sends the bag flying.

“Oh, right. So you’re keeping Lu—keeping her around just to keep the kids happy.” Dimitry leans against the wall, studying me, his arms still crossed.

“That’s right.” I avoid his eyes and keep thumping the bag. “They’ve had enough disruption already.”

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