Bloodlines: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (The Snake Eyes Series Book 4) (19 page)

Chapter 20

Luka

I lead Sofia towards the back of the house and the closer we get, the louder my mother’s voice becomes. She speaks with a high pitch, cooing and cawing in ways no one would ever think to speak to an adult with.

We enter the kitchen and there she is, sitting at the table with Lucian.

She looks over at us and smiles, her eyes subtly glancing at our entwined fingers. “Good morning, you two.”

Sofia’s face turns pink and she lets go of my hand, no doubt realizing how obvious it is where she was all night. She clears her throat. “Good morning, Madam Lutrova.”

“Nina.”

“Nina,” Sofia repeats, allowing yet another Zappia chain to fall to the ground.

Lucian fidgets in a wooden high chair at the end of the table — one I haven’t seen in ages but it’s still solid as a rock.

“Where did you get that?” I ask, pointing to it.

“I never got rid of it,” my mother says. “Markov pulled it out of storage this morning. This is the
same
chair
my little boys used and I thought it would be appropriate to pass it on to my grandson.”

Sofia sits down at Lucian’s other side and runs her fingers along the intricate wooden carvings along the back and arms. “It’s beautiful,” she says.

“Niko built it himself.”

“He did?”

My mother nods and shifts her attentions back to Lucian. “Sofia…
this boy…
”

“I’m sorry if he’s been trouble…” she says, still visibly hung up on an excuse for her whereabouts.

“Heaven’s no. He’s
perfect.
”

Sofia smiles. “Yes, he is.”

“I gave him some cereal to calm him down but he’s been looking for you.”

“Sorry.”

My mother rolls her eyes. “Every young mother deserves a chance to sleep in now and then, especially after what you’ve been through. That’s what grandmothers are for.”

I catch her fire a knowing glance in my direction, soft and strategic, one that Sofia would never notice. It’s the same scolding scowl she used to give Yuri and me whenever one of us would sneak a girl up into our rooms. I suppose some things never change.

“Where is everybody?” I ask.

“Your father and Yuri have spent the morning getting to know your new friend.”

“Fox?”

She nods. “They’re in his study, if you’d like to join them.”

I look at Sofia, hesitating to leave her alone again but she nods at me.

“We’ll be all right,” she says.

“Of course, we will be,” my mother teases, poking at my son’s chubby cheeks with her fingers.

My son.

Seeing him now, up close and real, in my own house, with my own family, I find that he holds far more resemblance to me than those silver eyes. The way he moves is so utterly
Lutrova
. That hidden twitch in his eyelids. The cleft of his chin. That
smirk
.

He’s definitely mine.

“I’ll go find out what they’re up to,” I say, forcing my eyes away from his perfect face.

“We’ll be here,” my mother says, combing her fingers through Lucian’s chestnut hair.

I walk out into the hall, listening to their calm voices shrinking behind me. My mother and my lover, chatting away over the breakfast table with my son. I can’t say that’s ever happened before.

“Luka?”

I pause in the empty hall and turn around to see Sofia following me with Lucian in her arms.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

She stops in front of me and smiles. “Would you like to hold him?”

I blink, quickly realizing that after everything that’s happened, I’ve never held my own son before. “Uh…”

Sofia doesn’t wait for an excuse. She leans in and extends her arms until Lucian sits in mine. I juggle him awkwardly, completely forgetting how to use my hands, but Sofia guides me, bending my arm to create a nook and laying my other hand on his back.

I can confidently say that my hands are more skilled than the average man but I’m trained in death. Cradling life in them is another game entirely but, after a moment, that terrifying feeling fades into pure warmth.

Lucian cranes his neck to look at me and recognition crosses his eyes, spurring a laugh from his gut.

“He remembers you,” Sofia says.

“He does?”

She stands beside me and places her hand over mine on his back. “Lucian,” she begins, “this is Luka Lutrova.” Her eyes wander up to mine. “He’s your father.”

I flinch. “That won’t confuse him now?”

“Oh, no,” she whispers, sliding a soft finger across his cheek. “Whenever a Zappia would hold him, he’d scream.”

I chuckle. “Smart kid.”

“Smarter than me,” she nods. “I think he’s always known where he belonged…”

I’m not sure I understand it but I’m not about to question it either.

***

“It’s about time…”

Yuri scolds me from the armchair as I enter the study.

I throw up my hands. “I was
sleepy
.”

My father says nothing. He leans against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest, just barely looking me in the eye. I expect his disappointment in me to last another few days, at least, until my mother can soothe it out of him — as she usually does.

Markov sits in the corner with his laptop, plucking slowly at the keys. He turns in his chair as I pass by him but waves at me to draw me closer and whisper in my ear.

“You knocked up the Zappia princess?”

The others must have filled him in this morning. If there’s anyone in this world whose look of disappointment stings more than my father’s, it’s Markov’s.

“Yeah,”
I nod, feeling a soft pang of hesitation.

He stares at me for a long moment. Finally, the look of stern accusation melts away and he grins with sinful pride.

I smile and step away from him, leaving him alone to chuckle softly to himself while he works at his computer. At least somebody can see the humor in this situation.

“What did I miss?” I ask, taking the empty seat on the sofa next to Fox’s stiff posture.

While the rest of us sit with ease, Fox stays on his guard. I don’t exactly blame him. If I were a snake in the Lutrova house, I’d also suspect I might never slither out again but after what I saw of his skills last night, he doesn’t have much to worry about.

My plan to kill him grows more unlikely every minute.

My father gestures at Fox. “Show him,” he says, flicking a finger at me.

“Show me what?” I ask.

Fox raises his shirt to reveal his torso.

I look down, my eyes instantly drawn to the black ink cobra printed from his chest down to his navel, along with several white scars scattered around his skin. He’s earned his skills, that much I’m sure about.

“That is what I saw,” my father says, pointing at it, “down in the cellar when I was a boy.”

“Every Snake Eyes agent has one,” Fox says to me, dropping his shirt.

“Looks
painful,
” I note.

“It
was
.”

“How many of you are there?” Yuri asks.

“Hundreds, maybe,” Fox answers. “I can’t say for sure exactly. Once you’re recruited, you’re assigned to a squad — usually made up of less than a dozen agents or so. Your squad leader is as high up the chain as you’ll ever see unless you’re promoted but that’s rare.”

“Who is at the top?” I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders. “I never met her.”

“Her?”
Yuri repeats.

“That’s the only thing the average agent knows about The Boss but my squad leader seemed pretty close to her. They spoke often.”

“Will she be on this list?” I ask.

“Theoretically,” he nods, “we all should be.”

“Including the agent who killed Viktor Lutrova?” my father asks.

We all look at him and Fox nods.

“Yes, sir.”

My father scratches his chin and glances at Markov’s back with anticipation. “Markov, how’s it going?”

“Patience, Niko,”
he snaps without turning around. “I am good but not fast.”

He sighs with impatience and looks at Fox again. “And all of this is true?”

“Yes,” Fox says. “I have no reason to lie to you, Mr. Lutrova.”

“And I have no reason to trust you, Mr. Fitzpatrick,” he counters.

“I don’t blame you for doubting me. I would, too, in your shoes, but Snake Eyes stole my life out from under me. I never wanted to be a part of this at all.”

“You say you were recruited?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I was a sniper for the U.S. Army, stationed in Afghanistan,” he says. “My team stumbled upon an operation of theirs and — long story short — I killed two of their agents.”

“And they didn’t retaliate?”

“Snake Eyes values talent more than vengeance,” he says. “Either I worked for them or no one at all, so… I joined up and I waited for the right opportunity to present itself.”

“Why choose this one?” my father asks.

Fox gives him a look of respect. “Your family’s history with Snake Eyes is well-known within the organization, Mr. Lutrova. I knew you’d benefit from it the most.”

“And if not?” he asks, recrossing his arms. “What if my sons had said
no
?”

Fox tilts his head. “Then I would have done my job and waited for the next opportunity.”

It’s honest. Almost too honest.

Yuri stiffens in his chair and we both wait on needles, staring straight up into my father’s hard, unblinking eyes.

Finally, he nods. “You’re a brave man, Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

“There is no bravery in what I’ve done.”

“Then what do you call it?”

“Selfishness.”

“You spared my sons and helped rescue my grandson and his mother,” my father says. “You have an odd definition of selfishness.”

Fox says nothing.

Finally, my father looks at me. I expected it to take far longer than one night before he referred to Lucian as his
grandson
. Either the man’s grown soft in his old age or my mother’s just that good.

“Sofia,” he says.

“What about her?” I ask.

“Is she okay?”

“She will be.”

“You plan on keeping her, then?”

“I wouldn’t phrase it that way, but yes.”

He takes a deep breath. “Luka…”

“He killed Rosalie in front of her,” I say, barely keeping my calm. “Sofia was covered in her blood when we found her. She had bruises on her face. You saw it yourself. I won’t send her back to that.”

“She is his wife.”

I shake my head. “Not anymore.”

“It’s not that simple, Luka.”

“I’m making it that simple.” I talk over him, fanning the anger in him. “Look, I get it. You spent years forcing a truce down our throats but the truth is that everyone was just pretending. The Lutrovas and the Zappias were never meant to co-exist and we never will.”

“This truce was
good
for our family,” he argues. “If Antony and I had not intervened when we did, this house would have been burned to the ground — with all of us inside of it.”

“I would rather we be ashes than slaves.”

Yuri holds up his hands. “Luka, come on—”

“No,” I snap. “Viktor Lutrova never would have pussyfoot around the Zappias or their
way
. When
snakes
entered Russia, he drove them back out. Now, they laugh at us. By allowing them to roam free, you’ve destroyed our family’s name.”

“And look what happened to him,” my father says. “Would you prefer I paid the same price?”

“I would prefer
strength
. I think all of this could have been avoided if you had done something instead of turning a blind eye.”

He falls quiet and stares at me.

“Sofia and Lucian stay with me,” I say. “Whether or not we stay on this estate is up to you.”

I stand up from my seat and scan the room as I march towards the door. Yuri’s wide eyes tell me everything. Markov’s silence tells me even more. Even Fox looks a bit nervous, as he should be.

“Luka.”

I pause with my hand on the doorknob and glance back at my father. “Yes, sir?”

“You will stay.”

Yuri visibly exhales.

“And Sofia?” I ask.

He snorts. “Nina will have my balls if I expel that boy.”

I let go of the doorknob.

“You will all stay,” he continues, softly nodding. “The Zappias won’t be happy but… they’ve had their way long enough.”

“I agree,” I say.

He takes a thick breath and looks to the corner again.
“Markov?”

Markov waves a silent hand and spins around in his chair to get back to work.

“Now what?” Yuri asks, finally breathing again.

“We will go to Chicago,” my father answers, his voice firm. “I will speak to Antony myself. If he cannot see reason… then we will show
strength
.” His eyes fall on me again. “You love this woman.”

It’s not a question but I answer it anyway. “Yes.”

“I cannot condone what you’ve done, Luka.”

“I know.”

“But I cannot
condemn
it, either…”

I nod. That’s as close to approval as I’ll ever get. For a second, I see respect and understanding in his eyes. I’ve never thought of my father as an empathetic man but maybe I was wrong.

“Your mother…” he smirks, “she says he has
my chin
.”

I breathe a short laugh. “He does.”

He bounces his brow and looks out the window by his desk.

The twinge of breaking glass tears the silence and a bullet pierces his eye.

Markov rises from his chair.
“Nikolai—!”

Crimson blood pours down my father’s face and strikes the wall behind him, expelled from the exit wound at the back of his skull. He slumps forward and tumbles to the floor before I can even take another breath.

Everything stops, seized by darkness in slow motion. Yuri jumps to his feet and we both rush forward as Fox bolts over the sofa and throws the window curtains closed.

I fall to my knees beside my father and slide a hand beneath his head.
“Pops…”