Page 98 of Lethal Legacy

“And the little ratfuck himself? Ryder?”

“Gone.” His grim one-word answer contains a wealth of frustration. “I had him covered until this morning—when he managed to run into Lucia.”

What the fuck?

“She was meeting Abby,” Dimitry adds before I can erupt. “The men following Ryder saw him approach Lucia outside the café. They called me to ask what I wanted them to do, but before I had a chance to give them the go-ahead to grab the guy, Lucia had brushed him off and the fucker was gone. It took us an hour to pick up his trail again. By that time, he was on a flight to London. And before you ask,” he says, “I had men waiting to meet him in London. Problem is, he never turned up.”

“What thefuckdoes that mean?”

“As far as I can tell, he checked in and boarded. My guess is that he did a runner right before the plane took off. We haven’t been able to find him since.”

I digest this for a moment, with an increasing sense of unease.

“What did he talk to Lucia about?”

“Said he was a friend of Abby’s. Made some comment about Abby going to Pillars, and that she keeps interesting company. But my boys said the real reason Ryder was there was to get a happy snap. He had his camera right up in Lucia’s face, apparently.”

My unease snowballs.

“I know, I know,” Dimitry cuts in before I can speak. “We’ll find him. And I’ll get Pavel back on his trail tonight, trojan or no trojan.”

Thunder lights the sky, and the first rain starts to fall. I straddle the bike.

“Nice night for a ride,” Dimitry says, casting me a curious glance. “Boxing ring not enough punishment for one day?”

“Nope.” I pull my helmet on, then my gloves. “Keep me up to date. And I do mean up to date. I want to know anything there is to know.”

Dimitry gives me a shit-eating grin. “Then you’d better start answering your phone. Not like you to tap out for siesta.”

That comment throws me straight back to my penthouse this afternoon.

Lucia, wearing nothing more than a scrap of lacy underwear, legs spread over mine, writhing in ecstasy on my hand and cock. Lucia, face down on my dining table, me thrusting into her until she’s screaming my name and begging to come.

Lucia—with an Orlov sparrow on her back.

I scowl. “I thought I told you not to mention her.”

Dimitry raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t,” he says mildly. “But I’ll take that to mean I have Miss Lopez to blame for your time-out this afternoon.”

“Fuck off, Dimitry.”

His shit-eating grin doesn’t move. “Copy that, boss.”

29

LUCIA

It’s late at night, and the children long in bed, when the baby monitor crackles to life.

“No!”

I jolt upright in bed at the first strangled cry. I’m not asleep anyway; I’m not sure I’m likely to sleep again anytime soon. I don’t stop to pull on a robe, just fling open my door and bolt across the corridor, past the startled security guard and into the children’s apartment.

Certain it’s Masha, I go straight to her bedroom, only to find her starfished on her back, mouth open wide in sleep. A brief glance into Mickey’s room confirms he, too, is fast asleep. Then I hear the sound again, a half-strangled cry of such anguish that it hurts to hear. I slip across the hall and open the door to Ofelia’s room.

She’s curled up in a tiny ball, and the sounds coming from beneath the cover are the choked whimpers of a nightmare. I know that sound well. I’ve woken up more than once in the same position, making the same sounds.

“Ofelia.” I say her name softly, standing slightly away from the bed so as not to frighten her. I switch the lights on with the dimmer switch low. “Ofelia, sweetheart, it’s only a dream. You can wake up now. Ofelia.” I keep murmuring quietly, until eventually the sounds stop. Slowly the figure uncurls beneath the covers. A moment later blonde hair emerges, smeared across her tearstained face. She stares up at me, her eyes still stark and haunted by her dreams.

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