Page 187 of Lethal Legacy

“Um. Yeah. I guess so.” Abby sounds concerned. “Is it... something dangerous?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” I reassure her. “I’ve just... There’s a friend of mine who needs something, that’s all. Can you do it?”

“Yup. I need a coffee anyhow. How about I come over now?”

“That would be amazing.” I end the call, my heart thudding slowly. I know it’s risky to involve Abby, but there isn’t anyone else I trust.

When she knocks at the door half an hour later, I open it to find her joking with the guards, all of whom she seems to know by name. Her hair is piled up in a messy bun, and big dark sunglasses hide the shadows under her bloodshot eyes until she gets inside and takes them off.

“Wow.” I give her a sympathetic look. “You really do look exhausted.”

“Yeah, well. The price of a barmaid’s life, you know.” She gives me a half smile, but there’s something lurking behind her eyes, a shadow of something I can’t quite read.

“Maybe it’s time to slow down a bit? I’m sure Dimitry could help—”

Her smile disappears completely. “Nope. I’m not signing up for gangster help, thanks. No offense.” She gives me a slightly apologetic look.

“None taken. Besides.” I force myself to smile. “I’m technically the au pair, remember?”

“Vaguely.” Abby rolls her eyes, and I laugh along. The truth is, after tonight, I won’t even be that. But I keep those feelings locked away inside. Darya knows better than to show anything out of the ordinary.

I need to give Abby the best performance of my life.

I hand her a coffee, proud that my hand doesn’t shake at all. “So you know the lockers at the airport, where I used to stash my stuff when I was in between places?”

She watches me as she sips the coffee. “Sure.”

“Well, I’ve got a friend who’s in a... similar situation as the one I used to be in. As in, he needs to stay under the radar.” I’ve thought this cover story through, trying to find any holes in it. “He needs my help, Abby. But I don’t want to tip anyone off, and if I leave here, I’ll have half of Roman’s security team following me, which will freak him out. I wondered if you could drop a bag into one of the lockers for me, then text me which one, with the code?”

“Um. Yeah.” Abby is frowning at me. “I can do that. But, Luce—”

“There’s something else,” I interrupt her hurriedly. “At Papa’s villa. You know that package you got for me? With the books?”

Her frown darkens. “I fuckingknewthat parcel was dodgy.”

“It belongs to my friend. And he needs it, Abby. It’s—well, without it, he won’t get far.” I meet her eyes, focusing all my attention on remaining calm. “I know what this looks like. But I had to run once, and I had nobody to help me. My friend needs help even more than I did back then. The people after him won’t stop coming.”

“Wait.” She stares at me, understanding dawning in her eyes. “This friend. He wouldn’t happen to be a family member, would he?”

I allow uncertainty to enter my eyes. “I can’t say, Abby. Please.” I inject my voice with all the sincerity I can muster. “It took a lot of courage for him to reach out, and he trusts me. I can’t let him down now just because Papa and I are safe.”

Slowly I see the fear recede from Abby’s eyes. I feel guilty as hell, allowing her to believe it’s my brother I’m helping, and using Papa as my trump card. I’ve never told her in so many words that I left a younger brother behind, but she’s come close to guessing more than once. And she knows I would never run without Papa. Using both of them gives my story credibility.

What she doesn’t know is that, this time, I can’t take Papa with me.

I hate lying to her.

“If you go now, Papa will be asleep. Take this.” I hand her a small bag of Masha’s rocks, all colored in decorative paint. “Tell Anna I asked you to plant them in the garden as a surprise for Masha, then go into the bathroom to wash your hands.” Quickly I explain to her how to find the package. “Here’s what I need you to put in the locker.” I give her my old backpack, and Abby’s eyes narrow worriedly.

“That’s yours, Luce. I’ve seen you with it a thousand times—”

“And it brought me luck. Now I hope it brings my friend luck.” I hold her hand tight. “Please do this for me, Abby. And please don’t tell Dimitry. He’ll jump to the same conclusion you did, that I’m running.”

Her fingers pluck uneasily at the bag. “Are you?”

“My friend needs to be prepared for whatever comes,” I say quietly.

That’s what Darya Petrovsky learned, a long time ago.

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