Page 8 of Daddy's Reluctant Queen

“No. I don’t think there is a place on earth where we could run and be safe. Not even in Russia.”

He takes a few moments to take that in. Finally, he wipes at his face and says softly, “Shit.”

“Tell me about it.”

I give him a few seconds to get himself together. I’ve already got a plan in mind and he’s not going to like it, but we need to talk it out.

“They’ll be waiting for us anywhere we try to run to,” I say. “It’s been at least twelve hours since everything happened. So, airports, train and bus lines will probably be crawling with them. If they haven’t already, they’ll come looking for us at these little motels.”

“Shit,” he says again. “What… what do we do? What can we do?”

“The way I see it, there’s only one thing we can do, Adam. We have to fight back. We need to avenge Papa.”

He gives me a wide-eyed glare. “Are you insane? Sof?—”

“We’re owed that, Adam,” I tell him. “This Bratva killed our entire family, destroyed Papa’s legacy, and they’re coming for us next. Even if we do run, we can’t do it forever.”

He stands and starts pacing. “I know, I know. But, Jesus, Sof, there aretwoof us. Against an army?”

“We don’t have to kill every man. In fact, the way I see it, we only have to kill one man. The Pakhan. We cut off the head, the rest of the beast will die.”

He stops pacing and crosses his arms. With pursed lips, he shakes his head stiffly.

“Adam, you know I’m right. We find out who these assholes are and find them. If I can get my hands on a sniper rifle, I can end all this in one shot.”

He rolls his eyes. “Goddammit, Sof. Okay, okay. So, where do we start?”

I sigh, looking at the bag. “Let me shower and think about it. There has to be somewhere friendly that we can go where we can get info and maybe some armaments.”

He nods as I get out of bed, taking the bag with me. “Stasio,” he says suddenly. “Maybe Stasio?”

I stop at the door. Stasio has been the go-to for all of the guns that my father owned. He was also the man who first taught me how to shoot. If his shop isn’t a friendly shop, I don’t knowwhere else is. “Yeah,” I say. “We’ll start there. By now, he’s probably heard something. Good looking out.”

I go into the bathroom and pause at the mirror. The makeup I had on has smeared into a black mess, giving me raccoon eyes. My lipstick has faded, and my skin looks pallid.

Right. Shower and get my shit together. Then we set about taking our freedom.

It’saround noon as we sit in the car and watch the front of the gun shop. Everything looks like a normal day in the neighborhood. I don’t see any strange cars, nor do I see any suspiciously tattooed men meandering around anywhere.

“What do you think?” Adam asks. He’s got his baseball cap on, the bill lowered over his face. I’ve got on a cap as well, my hair tied up in a bun over top of it. I wish we had some sunglasses as well. Every little bit helps when trying to hide from legit killers.

“It looks safe enough,” I say. “Come on. Let’s go.”

We get out of the car and into the oppressive heat of the day. The neighborhood this shop’s in is a little rundown. There’s an abandoned building just adjacent to us and the other shops around have old, poorly kept fronts. The gun shop is the only one that looks more like a fortress than anything. We pass by a large concrete wall and make it to the metal door, both of us dipping into the doorway. I press the buzzer.

“We’re closed,” Stasio’s voice says over the intercom.

“Stasio,” I say, “It’s Sofia Aristov. You know, Little Sofie?”

A pause and I think maybe he didn’t hear me. I go to press the button again, but his voice stops me. “Are you alone?”

“No. Adam’s with me.”

Another pause, then the door buzzes to let us in.

The store is empty. Most of the walls are lined with display models of semiautomatic rifles of all sorts. Glass cases filled with handguns and accessories line the aisle leading to the front desk. Right behind that desk is a door leading to the gun range. As we walk in, I can almost smell the gunpowder.

The door opens and Stasio walks through. He pulls off a pair of white ear protectors and it musses his long jet-black hair momentarily. He smiles and his weathered face responds, dozens of wrinkles around his mouth and eyes moving upward in unison.