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  I shake my head. “No, Lucian,” I say, reaching out to run my fingers along his scalp. “Go back to sleep.”

  “You finish the story?”

  I smile. “Only if you sleep,” I say. “Okay?”

  “Okay.” He shifts excitedly as I tuck him back in.

  “Close your eyes now.”

  Lucian does as he’s told and settles against his pillow.

  “V kakom-to tsarstve,” I begin, “v nekotorom gosudarstve, tsar' zhil...”

  I recall the tale from memory, making up and filling in the bits I can’t quite remember. I soon reach the climax of the story and let my voice fade to a whisper without finishing it. He doesn’t object, having fallen back to sleep long before the ending but I wasn’t ready to leave his side just yet.

  That’s often the case whenever I sneak in here late at night to watch him sleep soundly after a long night of doing what I do. Moments like these, when my son is safe and warm and happy, and my wife is right down the hall waiting for me… they make all of this worth it.

  “I love you, Lucian,” I whisper as I stand.

  After this trip, I’ll be home more. I’ll be here to tuck you in and I’ll be here to make your breakfast when you wake up.

  After this, I am done.

  I will not miss another day of your life.

  I missed so much before I brought you and Sofia home. I missed you growing inside of her. I missed your first cry. Your first steps. Your first words. I have so few regrets in this life but my absence in your first few years makes my heart bleed.

  I will miss no more.

  “That one was always your favorite, too.”

  I look up as I step out of Lucian’s room. My mother stands with her back to the opposite wall, a whimsical smile on her face.

  I close the door slowly, careful to silence the latch. “Apples never do fall very far,” I say.

  “With Yuri, it was nothing but Rapunzel, Rapunzel.” She rolls her big eyes. “I always hated the Grimms.”

  “Me, too.” I chuckle, quickly going quiet.

  “Luka…” She pushes off the wall and hesitates. “I should have told you sooner… about me and Markov.”

  I ease a step away. “Ma, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I want you to know that everything between us has… it happened after your father…”

  “It’s all right,” I say, looking down.

  “It took me by surprise as much as it has you, I’m sure.” She shakes her head with nervous panic. “I mean, the first night we made love I wept and wept—”

  “I don’t need to know that.”

  “Having the blessings of my boys would mean the world to me,” she says, her voice weak as she runs out of breath. “To us.”

  I study my mother’s face, finding it difficult to remember a time when she appeared so vulnerable to me. Nina Lutrova has always been the strongest of all of us and yet, here she is…

  I hold back a smile. “I don’t know.”

  She blinks, raising her head. “You don’t know?”

  “It doesn’t seem very… appropriate,” I say, furrowing a judgmental brow. “The two of you? Sneaking in and out of each other’s quarters at all hours of the night? Unwed?”

  Her eyes roll as she recognizes her own words quoted back at her from my youth. “Okay…”

  “What will the staff think?”

  “That’s enough, boy.”

  I laugh, breaking character. “Ma, it’s… it’s something to get used to, that’s for sure.”

  “It is,” she says with a nod.

  “Markov has been a member of this family since before I was.”

  She exhales, thinking back. “He has…”

  “But I will always be grateful to you for how you welcomed Sofia the night I brought her here,” I say. “What kind of son would I be if I didn’t do the same for you?”

  Her throat bounces as she swallows unfallen tears. “Thank you, Luka,” she says.

  She steps forward to hug me and I open my arms, wrapping them around her little shoulders as she laughs in my ear.

  “You took this way better than I thought you would,” she says.

  I chuckle. “Have you told Yuri yet?”

  “Oh, heaven’s no.”

  I pat her back. “Good luck with that, Ma.”

  She groans.

  A throat clears down the hall. We pull apart to see Markov standing by the stairwell, his hands folded in front of him.

  “The plane awaits you,” he says to me. “The pilot has charted a course for Paris. You should arrive in four or five hours, less if the storms clear.”

  I nod and walk his way. “And Sofia?”

  “She was the first one on,” he answers, amused. “Fitzpatrick and Mr. Hart are on-board as well.”

  I stop beside him, grimacing slightly. I’d foolishly hoped she’d change her mind and stay behind but there are countless miracles in this world far more likely than that.

  “I’ll head that way, then,” I say. “Thank you, Markov.”

  He nods and the bandage over his left eye stays in place.

  I stand still, glancing at him and my mother as a new tension thrives between us. “You’ll stay here,” I tell him. “Let me know if Yuri and Nik get anything more from the snake. Try to get some rest like the doc said and look after Ma and Lucian. Keep them safe.”

  “Of course,” he says.

  I turn to walk away but I pause, my right shoulder touching his. “If something were to happen to me and Sofia, then he’s to go to you and Ma. Understand?”

  Markov shifts his stance as he looks back at me with his good eye for a long, silent moment.

  Finally, he bows his head. “It would be an honor, Luka,” he says.

  I continue forward to the stairs.

  “Luka.”

  I turn back and Markov smiles while Ma’s eyes fill with tears again.

  “You looked like your father just now,” he says.

  I nod, feeling a sense of pride in his words.

  He feigns a shiver. “Creepy.”

  Ma slaps his arm.

  * * *

  I step up onto the plane and the pilot takes that as her final signal. We give each other a quick nod as I pass the cockpit on the way toward the seats. The four large chairs near the back are turned to face each other. My wife occupies one, sitting forward in quiet, intense conversation with Fox and Dante across from her.

  My Sofia, willing and able to take any awkward situation and get people talking. Was there really any wonder why the Zappia indoctrination never worked on her?

  She sits back as she sees me, giving me ample space to take the empty seat beside her. “And you did it?” she asks, eyes locked on Dante. “Just... right there in the middle of the casino?”

  He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I roll my eyes, thinking she’s churning sordid gossip of some sort out of the poor guys.

  Her jaw drops. “In front of Antony himself?”

  I pause. “What?”

  “Martino!” she says, poking her forehead. “He shot him in the head!”

  “Oh...”

  “I would have loved to see that.”

  Dante nods politely. This is obviously not the reaction he expected. “Well, it was—”

  “Tell me how you did Lorenzo,” she says quickly, her tone excited and eager... almost giddy.

  Fox smiles.

  I exhale. “Sofia...”

  “What?” She twists in her seat. “I was tortured by these men for almost two decades. I deserve some closure.”

  Dante shifts in his chair. “After he had my brother killed, my sister and I chained Enzo to a cinder block and dropped him into the lake behind our childhood home,” he answers.

  Her expression grows softer as she leans forward. “Did that make you feel better?” she asks.

  Neither of them blinks as they regard each other, two souls connected by circumstance. His little brother.
Her little sister. Both taken from them by the Zappia cult.

  I immediately let go of any plan I have to ever kill Dante Hart. Sofia will never allow it.

  “It didn’t make me feel any worse,” Dante answers.

  Sofia nods with understanding. “Was this the same sister who took out Antony’s casino guards? Lilah, you said?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

  She grins. “I like her.”

  Dante chuckles. “I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

  Sofia sits back as the plane rumbles around us. Another minute or so and we’ll be up in the air. I fasten my seatbelt and settle in for the ride.

  “Fox,” Sofia says, “Luka has something he’d like to say to you.”

  I fire a sideways glance in her direction, but she doesn’t falter, staring me down with the fire of a thousand sunsets.

  I clear my throat and look ahead at Fox’s curious expression. “I would like to apologize,” I say slowly, “for the tone in which I spoke with to you earlier. It was wrong and I’m sorry.”

  Fox bites his cheek, an obvious attempt to smother his smile. “Apology accepted,” he says.

  Sofia jabs my ribs with her thumbnail.

  “And...” I squint at her, “you are, of course, always welcome in our home.”

  Fox nods. “I’m happy to hear that. Thank you.”

  Sofia smiles, satisfied.

  Chapter 4

  Boxcar

  Casey Fawn.

  Born in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

  Died just outside of Baghdad in 2011 when an IED took out his convoy.

  But how many times have I heard that story before?

  Caleb’s father is still alive. She’s going to be devastated. Snake Eyes claimed yet another man she cares about. When will it end?

  I have no idea how I’m supposed to tell her about this. It’s not the thing I can just slip into a phone call.

  Hey, honey. How are you feeling? Hope the baby isn’t making you too crazy. Oh, and by the way, your father is a Snake Eyes agent. What’s for dinner?

  And if what the master file says is true, then Casey Fawn wasn’t just your normal, everyday Snake Eyes agent. He moved quickly up their ranks. He was leading his own squad within a year of recruitment and he obviously didn’t stop there if he was part of Myra’s posse.

  My laptop screen goes black and I groan. I knew I forgot to do something.

  I sit forward on the couch, suddenly realizing the sun has come up. I barely slept at all between combing through the master file for information on Casey (and running a search for every single person I’ve ever met, you know, just in case) and constantly twitching awake at the nightmare of Myra Black being less than a floor away from me. Tied up, sure. But still too close for comfort.

  What am I going to tell Caleb? Should I even tell her? Sometimes the dead should just stay dead and I’m tempted to say this qualifies.

  No, even I’m not dumb enough to keep something like this from her. I have to tell her. The sooner, the better.

  My eyes land on my phone sitting beside me.

  Well, maybe not right this second.

  I stand up off the couch and reach for my pack in search of my laptop’s power cable. Might as well stay up and finish getting the basement cameras back online.

  That’s right, I’d rather risk idle chit-chat with Myra than talk to my damn wife about her not-so-dead father. What’s the word?

  Coward. That’s the one.

  I plug in my laptop to get it charging and open it again, quickly navigating to the security software. The window pops up and I give the camera in the corner of my room a wave. The tiny Boxcar on the screen waves back. One second delay ain’t bad at all. The angle jumps to the next room, beginning the slow cycle around the house. Time to add the basement rooms, too.

  I grab a pen to take downstairs with me and wander into the kitchen toward the basement door. It’s a trip down memory lane, unfortunately. I still remember clear as day being marched down here with a semi-automatic poking the back of my head. And Marilyn. She was warm and inviting, like a southern housewife.

  Sit down, kid. Let’s talk.

  I have a job for you.

  And that, kids, is how I committed treason against the federal government.

  I move around the basement, searching for cameras and doing everything in my power to avoid the open doorway at the far end. I can do this. Just don’t look over there. Pretend it doesn’t exist. That the manic, sociopathic, murderous rapist isn’t hanging out less than thirty paces away.

  “Bartholomew. Eugene. Carson.”

  Fuck.

  I ignore her, keeping my focus on the corners of the room. Myra’s tiny laugh echoes from deep in the dark, leaving a trail of shivers down my spine.

  “Box...” she says. “Booooox-car.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” I say, raising my voice.

  “Oh, come on. We’re old friends, right?”

  I bite down hard. Friends? Really? She can’t be fucking serious...

  I reset the last camera and turn to head back up the stairs.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

  I keep walking. “Ask what?”

  “Why I kept you alive.”

  I pause, hating myself for being curious but the thought has crossed my mind once or twice over the last two years.

  I turn back, slowly walking toward the open door. I reach in and slide my hand up the wall to find the light switch. Myra winces at the sudden flash of fluorescents. Seeing her stuck and helpless isn’t an unwelcome sight, to be honest.

  “I don’t care,” I lie.

  Myra scoffs, her cheek lying against the table. “You didn’t find it odd?” she asks. “We tried to kill you before. Would have if it weren’t for Fox...”

  I point the pen at the switch again. “Still don’t care,” I say, ready to turn it off.

  “Doubtful.” She moves slightly, her cuffs clinking beneath the table. “Well, when your curiosity finally boils over, you know where to find me.”

  Just leave. Just leave. Just leave.

  I take one step into the room. “Casey Fawn,” I say.

  Her mouth opens in amusement. “Warm,” she says.

  “You didn’t want to kill his son-in-law.”

  Her face screws up. “Colder.”

  “Okay, then. The Boss didn’t want you to kill his son-in-law.”

  She smiles. “Warmer.”

  I shake my head as I walk in, stopping at the other side of the table. “Why would the Boss care at all about some lowly agent’s daughter’s soon-to-be ex-husband?” I ask.

  “Because that lowly agent ain’t so lowly,” she says, tilting her head up. “Come on, Boxcar. You’re smarter than this.”

  “You knew he was my father-in-law when you ordered him to take me out and shoot me.”

  “Of course, I did.”

  “Why?” I shrug. “I’m not exactly worm food right now. You had to have known there was a possibility he wouldn’t do it.”

  “No one is ever safe from the Boss’ shit list,” she says calmly. “We’re living in interesting times. A loyalty test now and again never killed anybody.”

  “Tell that to Elijah Hart.”

  “Eli, Eli, Eli.” She laughs as she rests her head back down. “Jeez. You squash one bug and it’s like the whole world’s fallen apart.”

  “So, Casey failed his test?” I ask.

  “With flying colors.”

  “What’s that mean for Caleb?”

  “Same thing it means for you.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “It means I have a few more names to scratch off my list the second I get out of this chair,” she says, her voice growing colder. “You. The wifey. And the little baby, too.”

  My heart stops. “How do you know about that?”

  Myra starts laughing.

  I step around the table. “How do you know about that?” I ask again.

  “Never i
nterrupt your enemy while they’re making a mistake.”

  I grit my teeth, leaning forward. “Myra, how did—”

  Myra lunges at me with blood-soaked hands. Her chains fall to the floor, no longer binding her to the table like they should be. She grabs my throat and squeezes, choking me more and more as she digs her thumbs into my neck.

  “Mistakes.” She smiles. “Like this one.”

  Chapter 5

  Archer

  I turn over with closed eyes and reach out across the unfamiliar bed for a familiar body. I expect to feel her soft skin tightly wrapped around toned muscles but her side of the bed is empty and cold.

  I open my eyes and glance around. “Lilah?”

  She’s not here. I’m alone in a room full of extravagant Parisian furniture and countless knick-knacks.

  “Lilah?” I ask again, looking toward the open bathroom in the corner but the lights are off.

  The house is quiet. Too quiet. But I smell... coffee.

  Oh, god.

  I slide out of bed, fully awake as I reach for my jeans and shirt.

  What kind of mischief has she gotten into, now fully caffeinated? Has she taken the opportunity to strangle Boxcar with his own glasses? Or worse... what has she done with Myra?

  Dante’s gonna kill me.

  I enter the hallway at a brisk pace.

  “Lilah?”

  I call out her name a bit louder and it echoes throughout the corridor as I move down the line of doors in the hall. I push them open as I go, giving each room a quick scan before moving on. A bedroom here. A half-bath there. A library of some sort but no Lilah.

  I continue toward the stairwell. “Lilah!”

  “I’m in here, you big goof.”

  I stop in my tracks and slowly back up to the library. Another quick glance around, I still don’t see her, but her wild, red hair comes into view as I step inside.

  Lilah sits on the floor among several stacks of leather-bound books in the corner. She holds one in her hand, reading through it as she sips from a mug.

  “Oh,” I say with relief. “Didn’t see you.”

  She snorts. “For such a cocky bounty hunter, you’re not very observant.”

  I gesture to the books. “What are you doing in here?”