Page 125 of Lethal Alliance

“I’m fine.” I push it away a second time, glaring at the doctor, who looks like he’s about to grab me and forcibly give me a shot. “Alexei didn’t kidnap us. He saved us.” I force myself to speak calmly, to try to make Roman understand. “He made sure Vilnus didn’t hurt Masha and me. He did everything he could to help us, even though he knew you’d probably kill him.” I can’t help the accusing note in my voice, even though I can see Roman’s surprise and hurt. I turn to Mickey. “Alexei got a message to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Mickey nods, wincing as the movement opens a cut on his neck. “Wait,” he says warningly to Roman, who has opened his mouth to start arguing.

To my surprise, Roman actually closes his mouth again, though his expression is absolutely mutinous.

“Ofelia is right,” Mickey says tersely. “Alexei is an ally. We wouldn’t have got you out of there alive without him and his men.”

“We’ll see.” Roman’s voice is cold enough to freeze the Miami humidity. “He’s got a hell of a lot of hard questions to answer.”

“And he will, but not right now.” Mickey faces Roman down with remarkable calm. “He has to go back to secure the compound. Mak’s offered to send in a team to help him. I think you should let him.”

“Jesus.” Roman comes to his feet, looking stratospherically furious. “Now we’re helping that bastard?”

Who saved our lives,I think. No matter how much my leg hurts, how much I want to fade out into a painkiller fog, I need Roman to understand the truth. I’m aware of Alexei, still and tense, on the periphery, just out of earshot. Going by the look on Roman’s face, Alexei is more likely to leave here in a body bag than with armed assistance, no matter what Mickey says.

I struggle to sit upright. “Please, Papa.”

That stops them both. Mickey’s eyes narrow at my use of the word. Roman kneels down, blood still surging from the wound at his side, and grips my leg. “Don’t try to talk, darling,” he says gently. “Just rest.”

“No. You need to understand what I’m saying to you.” I put my hand over his. “Alexei isn’t your enemy. And he’s suffered more at Vilnus Orlov’s hands than anyone else. You have to trust him.” I point to the cut on my cheek. “One of the men who took us from the airport did this. If Alexei hadn’t turned up when he did, the man would have done a whole lot worse. Alexei killed him before he got a chance to hurt us. He made sure we were safe. Then he risked his life by lying to Orlov about it.”

“Petrovsky knew about that goddamn bomb,” Roman says coldly, staring across the warehouse with murder in his eyes. “He could have killed you all.”

“No.” I shake my head. “He didn’t know about the bomb, Papa, I swear it. He and Vilnus argued about it. Orlov set off the bomb because he didn’t trust Alexei to help him open the vault. He and Inger kidnapped us because Orlov wanted moreleverage, as he called it. And because Inger wanted money.”

That part should hurt to say, but for some reason, it doesn’t. I’m not sure it will ever hurt again to talk about Inger. When I think about her now I feel nothing, only a cold, hard anger. And looking at Mickey’s face, I suspect he feels the same.

“You need to listen to your kids, Roman,” Mak interrupts us, his voice quietly authoritative. “Petrovsky’s not your enemy.”

“I haven’t thanked you, Mak.” Roman reins in whatever fury he looks about to unleash with a visible effort. He puts his hand out, though he’s still watching Alexei, his eyes hard. “We wouldn’t have made it out of there without you.”

“Or without Petrovsky.” Mak grips his hand briefly. “And don’t thank me.” He nods at Mickey. “It was the kid who worked it out. We’d have been dead men without him. I’d advise you to hear him out—hear them both out—before you go off half-cocked.”

He reaches past Roman and takes Mickey’s hand. “Good job,” he says. He’s not talking to Mickey like he’s a kid. He’s talking to him like he would Roman.

Mickey turns a fierce shade of red. “I got lucky,” he mutters.

“Bullshit.” Mak twists his head in a negative. “You used your brain, and then you acted fast. You ever get sick of taking shit from this one”—he grins in Roman’s direction—“you’re welcome on my team anytime.”

He turns to Roman. “Your plane is ready as soon as you want to board. My team will meet you in London.” He nods toward Alexei. “I’m mobilizing a team to go back to the compound with Petrovsky, then Dimitry and I will take a different flight to Spain, work out what happened there. Okay?”

Roman doesn’t answer. His eyes are moving between Alexei and Vilnus, bound and gagged in the corner.

“You need to leave Orlov here, with Petrovsky,” Mak says quietly. “The man won’t breathe again, I can promise you that. But you can’t take him with you.”

I can see Roman struggling with this. He’s staring at Orlov with an expression of old, twisted pain that hurts me to see. “That fucker killed my father,” he says, the words rasping from his chest. “And he hurt Darya.”

I think of the scars on Alexei’s face. Of the casual brutality and cold contempt with which Orlov treated him.

“He hurt Alexei more.” My voice is sharper than I intend.

Roman looks at me, frowning.

“I didn’t know that Orlov killed your father,” I say quietly, trying to take the edge out of my tone. “I’m sorry he did. But Idoknow what Orlov did to Alexei. Terrible things, Roman. For years. He tortured him over and over, and then he made him torture other people for his amusement. Whatever revenge you think you have a right to, believe me, Alexei has more.”

Mak nods. “She’s right, Roman. From what I can make out, Petrovsky has spent a decade being cut to ribbons by Orlov’s knives. He’s earned the right to murder the bastard. And he’s still got a war on his hands to get that compound under control. His men need to see him take Orlov down, or they’ll never properly respect him.”

But Roman isn’t listening. He’s staring at me, his eyes narrowed. “You said Orlov made Alexei tortureother peoplefor his amusement.” His voice is deceptively calm, but I can hear the lethal edge beneath it. “Were you one of those people, Ofelia?”

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