Page 110 of Lethal Legacy

The man Papa saw with a camera.

The journalist asking questions.

I think I knew, too.

I think I’ve known for a while that the Orlovs were closing in. Maybe that’s why I took Roman’s offer, and why I confided in him after so many years of diligent silence. I think that some part of me accepted the truth before my conscious mind was able to face it.

The problem now is what I’m going to do about it.

Before I have a chance to even start thinking of solutions, the door behind me bursts open and Masha comes running onto the terrace, a frowning Carlos following close behind.

“Luce! Luce!” Beaming, she holds up her prize, a startled-looking gecko dangling by his tail from her tiny fist. “I caughted him,” she tells me proudly.

“I’m so sorry,” Carlos says behind her. I shake my head, waving off his apology.

“My goodness,” I say, putting my arm around her from my position on the ground in front of Papa. “Where shall we put him, darling?”

Masha’s face falls. “Wanna keep him.”

To my surprise, I hear Papa snort in amusement behind me. I turn to find him regarding Masha with an indulgent smile I can’t remember seeing since I was a tiny child. He holds out his hand. “Show,” he says.

Entirely unbothered by such a brief order, Masha proudly holds out the lizard, which Papa solemnly inspects. “I found him in toilet,” she says importantly.

He nods as if this is the most normal occurrence in the world. “Name,” he says, in his rasping voice.

Masha cocks her head to one side consideringly. “Potato,” she says finally.

Papa’s cough of laughter is much louder this time. “Tato,” he repeats, his laughter increasing to a shaking guffaw.“Tato!”

Shaking his head, he laughs so hard that eventually Masha bursts into a pack of giggles, which in turn sets me off. And that is how Ofelia and Mickey find us, a few moments later, all three of us in peals of laughter, repeating the wordpotatoover and over.

“Gecko,” I gasp, pointing at the bemused lizard, who is still hanging from Masha’s hand.

“He’s named Potato,” Masha announces happily.

Ofelia and Mickey, however, laugh only briefly. They’re staring at Papa. And by their wary expressions, they’re already reconsidering their earlier relief.

“Who is that, Lucia?” Ofelia asks me in Russian. Too late, I realize that Papa is clad in a short-sleeved cotton shirt that clearly reveals the faded tattoos on his forearms. Tattoos the children would know all too well, especially the rose entwined with barbed wire that is almost identical to the one Dimitry wears, a symbol of a youth spent in jail.

Papa’s eyes narrow at the Russian words, but when his eyes cut to me, he looks resigned rather than surprised.

Mickey is staring at Papa with a hard expression. “You’re Russian,” he says flatly. “He understood you,” he adds, speaking to Ofelia, who has gone very white and is uncharacteristically silent. Mickey moves subtly to stand in front of his sisters, pushing Masha firmly behind him as he faces Papa.

Papa meets Mickey’s eyes evenly. “Da,”he says, his voice courteous despite the ever-present rasp. “Ya Russky.”I am Russian.

“We don’t know you.” Mickey’s eyes move warily between Papa and me as he pulls out his phone. I know he’s contacting Roman. Ofelia is staring at me, eyes narrowed.

I turn back to Papa, my tension ratcheting up with every second. I don’t know what to do. I wasn’t expecting this moment, or at least, not yet. I particularly wasn’t expecting how it would feel to see the children looking at me with the wary suspicion I’ve worked so hard to break through. It hurts, far more than I imagined it could.

Seeing the question in my eyes, Papa shakes his head. It’s a small movement, but the resignation in his eyes tells me all I need to know.It’s too late. For lies, for subterfuge. It’s too late to run.

“Ofelia.” I turn to her, forcing a smile to my face. “I’d like to introduce you to someone very important to me.” Mickey turns, frowning, the phone still in his hand. I can see Roman’s name on the screen, but he still hasn’t pushed the call button. “This is my father,” I say gently. “His name is Juan.”

“Juan?” Ofelia glares at me. “That’s not a Russian name.”

“No.” I don’t attempt to lie. “My father has many enemies. He is old and very sick, as you can see. So now he lives under a different name, so that people can’t find him.” I have the full attention of both Mickey and Ofelia now.

“What about you?” Mickey’s normal reticence is completely gone. His eyes bore into me just as fiercely as his sister’s. “Do you have a different name, too?”

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