Lethal Alliance (Lethal Legacy #2)

Chapter 1

1

OFELIA

“ O felia!”

Mama’s voice, thin and full of fear, comes through the smoke and chaos of the ballroom explosion. “Ofelia, is Masha with you?”

The smoke is so thick I can barely see in front of me. I’m pushed up in a corner, in between the stage and the back wall, and somehow, miraculously, I’m not hurt.

Was that a bomb?

“’Felia!” Masha squirms underneath me, and I grip my little sister tightly.

“She’s here, Mama.” I hug her small body close. “Are you hurt, Masha?”

“No.” She shakes her head against my chest. I gulp breaths of air, trying to make order out of the broken stone and chaos. My ears are still ringing from the explosion. I feel weirdly insulated, like there’s an invisible layer cutting me off from the people screaming and crying all around us. Masha clings to me. She’s the only reality in the insanity that, only moments ago, was the best night of my life.

Barely meters away, Matvei is lying face down. He’s not moving.

We were dancing. I can remember it, his arms around me, the way he was looking at me. I thought he was going to kiss me...

Someone grips my arm, not gently. “I’ve got them, Inger,” he says to my mother.

I recognize his voice, although before tonight, I’d never met him.

It’s the same person who pushed me and Masha into the corner, right before the world exploded.

“Wait.” I struggle feebly. “We have to help Matvei—”

“There’s no time.” The man speaks with a thick Russian accent. “You’re in danger.”

“Get them out of here!” Mama sounds terrified.

Is she hurt?

I have to get it together.

“No!” I fight against the hand holding me. “Mama!”

“I’m fine, Ofelia. Uncle Nicky is with me. His friend is going to help you and Masha, okay?”

“Listen to your mother.” The man is trying to make me stand up. “Nikolai will take care of her.”

That’s why I don’t know him. He’s one of Uncle Nicky’s men.

“We need to get you out of here.” The man presses his earpiece. “Roman says you need to come with me. We’re under attack.”

Roman. Just hearing my godfather’s name reassures me. Roman is okay.

I think of him, and Lucia. What would they want me to do?

I need to pull myself together. To be strong for Masha.

“Okay.” I clutch Masha by the hand, trying to steady myself as the man pulls us to our feet. He has his gun out, and he’s looking around warily. I don’t remember his face, but he’s big, and he has an earpiece. He looks just like all of our normal security guards.

“This way.” The man pushes Masha and me through a hole in the wall, and suddenly we are outside. The night air is fresh on my face, and I inhale it gratefully. “Hurry,” the man urges us.

We stumble across the rubble toward a waiting car. The door is open, and another man is standing beside it with a gun in his hand, talking into a radio. “Quickly,” he orders, bundling Masha and me into the back of the car.

“What happened?” Masha stares up at me, blood trickling down her face from a cut on her forehead. “What happened, ’Felia?”

“I don’t know, myshka .” I hold her close, trying not to think of Matvei’s still body, of the horrible blast that seemed to shake the air itself. “I think somebody set off a bomb.”

The doors on either side of us lock automatically, and the car takes off. We’re alone in the back seat, with a window in between us and the driver.

“Hey.” I knock on the glass window. “Where are you taking us? Where’s my brother, Mickey? Are Lucia and Roman okay?”

There’s no answer. I press the button on the intercom and ask again.

“Everyone is fine,” the driver answers. It isn’t Bryce or Dimitry or any of our usual drivers, and like the man who took us out of the ballroom, he speaks with a thick Russian accent. “I’m taking you to a safe house. Roman and... Lucia will meet you there.” The smart-ass way he says Lucia’s name tells me he knows it’s not her real one.

Something isn’t right.

I hear Roman’s voice in my head: “I want you to always be thinking for yourselves, to be smart and accountable for your own safety...”

I press the button again. “Can I use your telephone, please? I want to call Roman.”

The first security guard answers this time. “Roman’s busy. You can talk to him when we get to the safe house.”

My unease increases. I don’t have a phone with me; mine was in my purse, which I left on the table when I was dancing with Matvei. I shudder when I think of his inert body lying in the rubble.

I don’t think Matvei is okay.

I have no idea where Luce and Roman are.

And nothing about this feels normal.

“’Felia.” Masha looks up at me, her lip quivering. “Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure, myshka .” I hug her close, trying to reassure her with my touch.

“Will Mickey be there?”

“I hope so.”

I stare out of the window, trying to work out where we are.

Somewhere near the airport . I can see planes coming in to land.

The car turns off onto a side road and then passes through a security gate. The driver flashes some kind of pass, and the man waves our car through without looking in the back. The area around us is dark except for the colored ground lights that guide planes in. We’re not at the main airport. This is smaller, and there’s no big terminal, only a small hanger lit by fluorescent lights.

The car comes to a halt beside a private plane with the stairs down. Our car door is pulled open. The driver and security guard stand on either side of it, automatic weapons hanging from their hands.

Why are their guns out?

Our guards normally keep their guns hidden.

Then again , I try to tell myself, there’s nothing normal about tonight.

One of them holds out a phone. I snatch it out of his hand. “Hello?”

“Ofelia.” Mama’s voice is shaking but clear. I grip the phone, closing my eyes in relief.

“Mama! What’s happening? Where’s Roman?”

“There was an attack, darling. Some of Roman’s men have been hurt, and we’re worried there are people looking for you and your sister.”

Okay. I nod. That makes sense.

“Roman wants me to take you to stay with my family in Miami, until we know it’s safe.”

Yeah—that makes no sense at all.

“Deda and Baba Melnyck’s house?” I try to act like that isn’t the weirdest damn idea ever. “I thought Roman said it wasn’t very secure there?”

Masha makes a face. “I don’ like Deda and Baba’s house—”

I squeeze her hand warningly, and she subsides.

Inger’s voice rises slightly, like she’s arguing. “Roman has men who will meet you there, Ofelia.”

“What about Mickey? And Lucia? Where are they? Are they okay?” I hold Masha’s hand tightly, staring around at the barren airfield, shivering despite the mild night.

Something is very wrong.

“They’re fine.” Inger’s voice is shrill and hurried. “They’re just with the police now, giving a report.”

I don’t like this.

“Can I talk to Roman, please?”

Inger covers the phone, but I can still hear her muffled voice. “She wants to talk to Roman.”

I need to work out a plan.

A moment later Nikolai’s voice comes down the line. “Roman has gone after the men who set off the bomb. I know you want to talk to him, but you need to listen to your mother. Spain isn’t safe for us anymore. We’re taking you to stay with Deda and Baba Melnyk in Miami until Roman gives us the all clear.”

How do we get out of here?

I shake my head slowly, eyeing the men with the guns. I don’t like the way they’re looking at me. “I want to talk to Lucia.”

Nikolai makes an impatient noise. “Her phone was lost in the blast. She’ll call you as soon as she can. Can you give the phone back to the security guard, please, Ofelia?” His voice sounds strained. The guard with the gun takes the phone from my hand before I can answer.

“ Da ,” he says curtly. He listens for a moment, then his mouth curls unpleasantly. “I don’t take orders from you.” He hangs the phone up without speaking again and nods toward the stairs. “ Bystro ,” he snaps. Quickly.

“’Felia?” Masha is staring at him, her mouth set in an obstinate line. “Don’ like him.”

I don’t either.

Roman’s men never make us feel unsafe. Even Nikolai’s men always treat us with respect.

The man said he doesn’t take orders from Nikolai. But if he’s Roman’s man, he should be treating us a lot differently.

“No.” I try to make my voice sound certain, like Lucia does when she gives orders. “I want to speak to Roman before we go anywhere.”

The man smiles unpleasantly. “Not going to happen.” He steps closer, and I move away, pulling Masha with me. He laughs, then nods at the other man. “Get them on the plane.”

“Wait.” I pull Masha against me, but they’re herding us toward the stairs, the muzzles of their automatic weapons pointing directly at us.

There’s no way this man works for Roman.

We have to get out of here.

Surely they won’t shoot us, if they’re talking to Inger and Nikolai?

I squeeze Masha’s hand. She looks up at me, and I flick my eyes toward the edge of the airfield. Masha nods solemnly.

We break and run at the same time, Masha holding my hand.

We make it about thirty meters before Masha screams, a high-pitched sound of terror that cuts me to the bone. Her hand jerks out of mine, and I stop and turn, but it’s too late. One of the guards has her firmly in his grip. The other one tackles me, and I hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind from my body, the guard on top of me. I struggle, trying to push him off, and he laughs, thrusting his thigh between mine.

He puts his mouth close to my ear. His breath smells like cigarettes and old alcohol.

“Keep struggling, little blyat . That’s just how I like it.” A long blade comes up, right next to my face, the metal edge gleaming in the airport lights. He puts the tip of it against my skin, right next to my eye. “Now tell your sister to calm the fuck down.”

I turn my head uselessly on the ground and see Masha, her legs kicking frantically, in the grip of another guard.

“’Felia!” she screams.

“Do as I say, and I won’t cut her.” The guard on top of me thrusts his hips obscenely into my groin then pulls me to my feet. He turns me around, holding me roughly against him, his knife still against my face.

“Do as they say, Masha.” I try as hard as I can to keep my voice steady.

My little sister stares at me, her eyes wide and furious, her legs still kicking. “Let ’Felia GO!”

“Sounds like she needs a little more encouragement.” The guard pushes the tip of his knife into my temple and drags it down the side of my face, opening my skin in a flash of white-hot, searing pain. Masha’s shrill scream gets higher.

“Shut up,” snarls the guard holding Masha, “or we’ll make your sister hurt even more.”

Masha’s scream cuts off midair, and she stares at me in horror. Blood drips into my eye, obscuring my vision.

“Looks like we got her attention,” the guard murmurs in my ear. I can hear the excitement in his voice. “Maybe one more cut, just to drive the lesson home—”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The cold, hard voice cuts through the night, stilling the knife hand of my attacker.

The guard swings around, aiming his rifle at the newcomer, his knife still at my throat.

I try to blink away the blood streaming into my eyes so I can see clearly.

The man facing me is the most frightening I’ve ever seen. Dressed entirely in black, he’s as tall as Roman, with a patch over one eye. His good eye is a hard, arctic blue, staring at the man holding me with an expression so flat and cold it sends a chill through me.

It’s like he’s dead already.

“What are you doing here?” The guard with his knife at my throat snarls the question. “You’re supposed to be on the boat—”

“A boat you idiots made fucking sure every coast guard in the country is currently chasing. Quite the oversight in planning, it seems.” He walks toward us slowly, without an ounce of fear for the guns currently pointing at him. “Or perhaps,” he says silkily, “it wasn’t an oversight at all. Either way, I’ll be taking it from here.”

“You can’t do that. We don’t take orders from Orlov’s mad dog.” But the guard’s eyes are moving around uneasily, and even I can hear the fear in his voice.

The man’s lips curl contemptuously. “You do now.” He nods, and a group of men emerge from the darkness, their automatic weapons pointing at the guards holding us. “Put your guns down,” the man says coldly, “and let the girls go.”

The guards look around warily, but they’re outnumbered ten to one. They release us and put their guns on the ground.

Masha runs to me. I hold her tightly, looking for an escape, but I already know there isn’t one. Men surround us, but at least now their guns are pointing at our original attackers, not at Masha and me.

The guard who cut me glares at the man with the eye patch. “You’re making a big fucking mistake, Petrovsky.”

Petrovsky?

I know that’s Lucia’s real family name, just like I know the Orlovs are the people chasing her. Mickey might not tell me everything he knows, but he’s told me that much.

I feel a nervous flicker of hope. One that fades almost as soon as it rises.

Petrovsky’s hard face has none of Lucia’s warmth. And his lone eye is terrifyingly blank, like an icy abyss.

“A mistake, huh?” Petrovsky’s voice is cold as winter. “Not nearly as big as the one you just made, friend.” He smiles, a chilling sneer that doesn’t reach his eyes, and holds up his right hand in a clenched fist. A red sparrow, vivid as blood, is tattooed on it. The red ink gleams in the lights of the plane. “Vilnus Orlov thanks you for your service.”

His hand drops, and two shots ring out in quick succession.

The guards who took us fall to the ground, their blood spreading across the tarmac.

I push Masha’s face into my leg to stifle her scream. I stare at the dead men, my own scream stuck in my throat.

Blood from the wound on my face drips onto my gown, turning the material a dark purple. I can’t even feel the pain anymore.

I can’t feel anything at all.

The man with the eye patch turns to us.

“My name is Alexei Petrovsky.” He tilts his head politely at the stairs. “Please board the plane.” His voice is chillingly calm.

This time, Masha and I go.

Alexei Petrovsky isn’t our friend. He isn’t anyone’s friend.

He’s a killer—and now he’s our kidnapper.