Page 13 of Daddy's Reluctant Queen

Criminal Kingpin Titus Malkin Indicted on Racketeering, Drug Charges

The photo underneath shows him sitting in court, and I have to bite my lip to restrain the gasp that almost escapes.

It’s him. The man who was flirting with me at the bar. The man who, seconds later, put a round of bullets into my father. He looks younger here. His hair isn’t silver. It’s shiny black and slicked back into a ponytail. Fifteen years younger, the youthfulness shows in the smooth line of his clean-shaven jawline and around smiling eyes. He looks like he’s enjoying a conversation with his lawyers, not getting ready to be sent to jail for who knows how long.

He looked good then, and the man I met last night was just a fine wine version of him. Mature, sure of himself, and damned sexy.

I scroll down the page, reading article after article about his trial and then conviction. For all those charges, he only ended up doing about five years. The coverage of his release has a breathtaking photo of him. His hair is short, but it’s started to gray. Silver streaks in a buzz cut, stubble on his jaw, looking into the camera as he walks away from the jail, a knowing smirk on his face that saysYou ain’t seen nothing yet.

If he weren’t responsible for turning my world on its head… If he weren’t my target…

I switch over to the image search. There are dozens of photos of him on the internet, all from different stages of his life and career. The youngest photo of him looks like he’s barely out of high school. He’s thinner and his head is shaved completely. Theself-assured gangster isn’t present yet here. He’s walking next to an older, heavyset man with stark blue eyes and white hair—the last Pakhan, I suppose. Titus has a hand at his waist, buttoning his jacket as he looks sternly over his boss’s shoulder for threats.

I’d say he’s older than me by about twenty years. The young man in this photo can’t be older than nineteen.

And if he’s that young, what is he doing by the side of a Pakhan? What was his rank? I’ve known young Bratva, of course, but no one as young as him… unless he’s a legacy like Adam. The bottom of the photo lists the name of the Pakhan as Mikhail Berezkin. Different last name. Probably not his father.

And yet, there he is at his side. Wonder what the story is behind that?

I’m distracted by Adam tossing his phone on the nightstand. “We’re screwed, Sof.”

“Giving up already?”

“Who do I call?” he says, his voice on the verge of panic. “Who can we trust? I never got close enough to any of Papa’s allies to ask them for help. What if they sell us out to the Archangels? Can we really take that risk?”

He starts to pace, the panic clearly settling in. “I don’t even know how to shoot. How many times did Papa tell me to make some time to go out to the range and learn how to handle a gun? How many times did he send me with you to Stasio to learn and…” He stopped talking and pacing, his eyes filling up with tears.

“We’re doomed, Sof. There’s no way the two of us can take on an entire Bratva.”

I set my phone down and walk over to him, taking him by the shoulders. “Calm down, okay? This isn’t the time to panic.”

“I would grossly disagree with that statement,” he says with a bitter laugh. “This is the perfect time to panic.”

I sigh and glance back at the guns. I hate to admit it, but whatever plan I can hatch is going to require that he pick up one of those guns. Maybe if he got a little more comfortable with them…

“Listen,” I tell him, “we can try to run if you want, okay? But if we do that, you have got to understand that there’s no safe place we can go. Bratva gangs are a worldwide organization and the Archangels are large enough to have connections everywhere. They are going to catch up with us eventually.”

“I know that.” He says it flatly, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “I know we can’t run. I just don’t know how we’re going to fight.”

“We just need to be strategic, that’s all. We’re not going to roll up on Titus Malkin’s house, guns blazing. Doing this ourselves means that we need to move quickly and quietly. Really, this isn’t a hundred-to-two battle. It’s two on one. He’s our only target.”

He sniffles. “I guess you’ve got a point there.”

“Of course, I do,” I say. “So, that said, first things first. We’re going to get you acquainted with these guns.”

He frowns a little and asks, “What do you mean by ‘acquainted’?”

“I mean, you’re going to learn how to use them and I’m going to teach you. There are woods all around this area. Early tomorrowmorning, we’re going to set out, pick a spot, and shoot some of these guns off.”

He’s looking at the guns as if they’re cocked and pointed right at his head. “Are–Are you sure we should do that? I mean, it’ll make a lot of noise.”

“We’ll have to chance it. I think we can do this, Adam. The only thing I’m positive of is that I can’t do it alone. I’ll need you to have my back.”

He stands up a little straighter and says, “All right. First thing in the morning, you’ll teach me to shoot.”

I didn’t getto sleep until a few hours before dawn and I’m feeling it a little now. Last night, after some top-notch cyber sleuthing, I found Titus Malkin’s address. He lives in this massive eight-bedroom mansion on the hillside on the eastern border of the city. The photos of it make it look like this enormous castle overlooking the city lights. I spent most of the night trying to get views of it from every angle possible. It’s completely gated off with a single road that winds up the hill. We could easily be spotted on the way up if anyone were looking for us.

Which I expect someone probably is. Getting there in the first place is going to be half the battle. The other half might entail finding a quick way out before his people know what hit him.