Page 38 of Lethal Legacy

But not if she’s trouble. And so far, everything about her screams exactly that.

If I hoped Pavel’s next words would set my mind at ease, I’m sadly disappointed.

“If you will permit me to say so—”

“Just fucking say it,” I snarl. “I don’t need the preamble.”

“Yes, boss.” The injured tone is back. I ignore it. “There’s something strange about this girl.”

No shit.I tear my tie loose, pour a drink, and brace for the worst.

“Most illegals leave a paperwork trail a mile wide. The only evidence of this girl’s existence is her medical card.”

I take a mouthful of Scotch. It’s my preferred drink, but tonight the smoky taste feels wrong. I empty the glass and frown out at the midnight-black sea beyond the city lights. It’s the same color as Lucia’s hair.

“She’s Argentinian,” I say. “Surely there’s a record of her in that country.”

“If there was, you’d be holding it in your hands.” Pavel’s indignation is palpable. “Her passport was issued in Buenos Aires just over two years ago. The home address given was an apartment block that has since been demolished. She took a flight to Morocco the same day she got the passport and was given a tourist visa on arrival, after which she simply disappeared. Soon after that, she showed up working in the café here in Malaga.”

Which means she’s trouble with a capital T, and the last person I should be exposing Mikhail’s children to.

I certainly shouldn’t have her anywhere near either Hale or Mercura. My internal alarm ratchets to high alert.

“And she’s never even made an application for refugee status?”

“She’s never set a toe inside an official building, according to—”

“What you can find.” I cut him off brutally. “Which seems to be fuck all, so far.”

“If there was anything to find,” Pavel says with a long-suffering air, “I would find it. That’s why it’s strange. Everyone leaves a trace, boss. Everyone. But not this girl. She uses burner phones and replaces them on a regular basis. She doesn’t make close friends. She avoids crowds and cameras, pays only cash, and never uses her real name if she can avoid doing so.” He pauses. “I’m sorry to say this, boss, but—”

“What?” I snap, but I already know what he’s going to say. It’s obvious enough, even to a non-tech head like me.

I just don’t want to hear it.

“The girl is using a cover identity. A good one. Without fingerprints or DNA, what I’ve given you is all the information you’re likely to find. This is a girl who doesn’t want to be found. And one who’s used to running. I’d say the only thing you can know for certain about Lucia Lopez, boss, is that it’s only a matter of time until she runs again.”

His words slice through the years and walls I’ve built between myself and the past with ice-cold brutality.

“Your mother is gone, Roman.”My father’s voice echoes down the pathways of memory, accompanied by the fierce, sudden pain that has never, not even after more than twenty years, disappeared.“She had no choice but to run. It isn’t your fault, Roman...”

I thrust the memories down with the discipline of long practice.

“Pavel.” My voice is rough. I swallow hard, and the next time I speak, it’s back to my usual curt delivery. “Don’t leave the office for now. I might need you later.” I end the call before I betray myself, or before the little shit can start arguing. I pay him more than enough to soak up a little overtime every now and then.

I need time to think all of this through.

For all I know, Lucia could be an intelligence plant from the government, custom-made to exactly suit my preferences.

Except that she doesn’t.

Lucia is nothing like the women I usually date. She has more curves than any of the rail-thin models I take to public events, and none of their practiced seduction. She works more hours than any human ever should. And when I touched her naked body, she melted against me like I was shelter from the storm.

Not to mention the fact that she was working in that damn café long before I even bought the Hale building.

I twist away from the window and walk down the dimly lit corridor. It’s vodka I need tonight, not Scotch. I slip a card into the locked door I rarely open, then go to the safe. I keep only one item in the safe: a bottle of Graf vodka. It was my father’s favorite. I keep only one bottle at a time, and I save the drinking of it for rare occasions.

Even before Pavel’s report, there was no doubt in my mind that Lucia is hiding something.

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