Page 87 of Lethal Legacy

25

ROMAN

Lucia freezes like prey in the forest, her back to me. I can almost hear her thinking frantically through what she’s going to say.

Part of me wants to hear it.

The other part wants, very badly, for this to be a terrible mistake.

The Orlovs killed my father. They took everything from me. And I will remember their sparrow tattoo for the rest of my life. I saw it on the hands that wrung the last breath of life from my father and left his body limp on the kitchen floor.

My body is still pounding with the aftermath of fucking Lucia. If I’m honest, what I really want is to do it again, right away. But I’m not a man who tolerates being lied to. A little elusiveness, I can tolerate. But the Orlov bratva tattoo? In the same building as my godchildren?

Lucia Lopez is lucky she’s still breathing.

“I saw it the first time I had you naked.” I talk to her frozen back, keeping my tone deliberately casual. I have my Glock close by, though the thought of using it on the body that even now has me half hard makes me feel physically sick. “I told myself it was just a coincidence. You’ve done a good job of changing the colors. And the cage helps. But minutes ago I felt the scars you’ve disguised with ink. Whoever inked that sparrow on your back cut you where the wings should join the body. So I think it’s about time you leveled with me, Miss Lopez. What’s an Orlov bratva runaway doing in my home?”

When she finally turns, her face is bloodless, the topaz light in her eyes hidden behind an opaque layer I can’t read. I don’t like that. I don’t like Lucia going some place I can’t follow. It makes me frustrated, makes me fucking mad.

I’ve done everything to make her safe. And yet still she won’t let me in?

I should be worried about what her presence here means, not why she’s withdrawing. But if I’m honest, I’m far more furious that she clearly doesn’t trust me than about whatever game she may or may not be playing.

Bratva games I can handle. I’ve been handling business since before she could walk. Give me an army bursting through my door with guns, and I’ll show you a cold-blooded massacre that I walk out of without a backward fucking glance.

Based on those scars, and the mutilated sparrow, Lucia is either an instrument of the Orlovs by force or running from them. Either way, I can help her. The fact that she seems to doubt my ability to do so isn’t just aggravating.

It’s downright fucking insulting.

I glare at her. I’m about to explain exactly why crossing me is extremely unwise when, to my surprise, she speaks up voluntarily.

“I was planning to talk to you about this today. Now, in fact.” Her voice shakes, but her eyes on mine are steady, her face oddly set. I resist the urge to give a scathing response. Instead I move from the coffee table to the sofa, lean back, sip my Scotch, and watch her.

What I really want is vodka.

But there’s no way I’m showing her how much this is getting to me. I’ve already let my guard down way too much with Miss Lopez.

Or whoever the fuck she is.

I scowl. Ireallydon’t like being the one in the dark here.

“I thought I could get through this contract and then leave without endangering anyone.”

Leave?I’m gripping my glass hard enough to shatter the fucking thing. The endangering part is just laughable.

But the fact she planned to“get through this contract”?

Planned to leave, seemingly without a second thought?

It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to throw her down on the sofa and show her how mistaken she is, if she thinks she’s ever going to be able to walk away from me.

“But then I met the children.” Her eyes go liquid soft, her lips quiver, and her hands twist anxiously. “I’d forgotten, you see. What it’s like. To—to be in a family. To care more about what happens to someone else than about my own safety. We’ve been alone so long— ” She cuts off abruptly, her eyes darting to the side, biting her lip as if she’s said too much. She breathes in sharply, gathering herself, and faces me squarely again.

“What I mean to say,” she continues in a low voice, “is that my presence in your house may pose a danger to your children. And to you.”

I try not to laugh at the danger part. It’s not that difficult, considering how incredibly pissed off I am.

So it was thechildrenwho changed her mind?

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