Page 82 of Daddy's Reluctant Queen

I spot another figure emerging from the thinned crowd, walking toward him from the east. Tall with long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a dark suit and sunglasses. It’s Cyrus. I’ve maybe met him once or twice, so his face isn’t that familiar to me, but I know the walk. All the Bratva have it and this man has it too. He swaggers, walking as if he’s hearing his own rhythm to a theme song while glancing around, surveying his surroundings at all times.

But wait. He’s alone. I stop looking through the scope and look at the entire surroundings. There’s no child with him, nor is there anyone else. I look through my scope again, hoping maybe I just missed the little boy somehow. I’m not mistaken. That is Cyrus and he’s alone.

Shit. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Where is Luka? More importantly, where is his?—

“So, it’s you, then.”

I freeze. The sound of Cyril’s voice behind me runs like ice up my spine. How the hell?—

He doesn’t give me time to question it. He grabs me by my hair, yanking me away from the window. Instinctively, I drop the gun as I’m dragged away, then tossed as Cyril turns on his heel and hurls me to the other side of the room. I roll a couple of times,the wall stopping my momentum as I run into it, slamming my shoulder.

“And we meet again,” he says. “I can’t believe Titus chose you to cover him over any of his brothers. I figured he’d leave the little woman back home.” He stands there, his face still showing signs of the last time we met—faded bruises along his jawline and darkened circles under his eyes. His nose has a deep cut along the bridge and is crooked, twisted to one side. Guess he didn’t bother getting it fixed this time.

“Looks like you were wrong,” I say as I slowly get to my feet. “You look like shit. That nose is starting to look like hamburger.”

His mouth twitches. “I don’t have time to play, little Penza. We’ve got places to be.”

He takes a step toward me and I adjust my stance. I’m not about to make any plan he’s got easy. If he wants me, he’s going to have to work for it.

He sees my feet move and he stops. “You really want to fight. Again?”

“Seems like a viable plan. You’re 0 for three so far.” He grimaces at me angrily. “What’s the matter? Scared? Can’t say as I blame you. I’ve already beaten your ass three times. I’d be a little worried, too, if I were you.”

He huffs, his jaw clenching as he starts walking toward me. “I’m going to rip your head off and skull fuck you, you little cu?—”

I don’t give him a chance to finish. I throw him a roundhouse, swinging my back leg in an arc. He sees it coming, however, and throws an arm up to block it, using the half second to grab and hold my foot under his arm. He swings me by my leg, tossing medown to the floor. He twists my ankle, sending shards of pain through my leg. I cry out in pain and he glowers at me, tossing my leg away. It slams into my other leg, sending a new wave of pain through my hips.

“You know, Cyrus said just to grab you and go,” he says as he takes off his suit jacket. “But I have been looking forward to another chance to ugly up that pretty face of yours.”

He advances on me, his heel coming up. I roll, avoiding the first stomp, then the second one. The third time he lifts his leg, I roll into him, colliding with the leg he’s standing on. I grab it and bite hard into him through his pants.

He yells, stumbling back and falling to the floor. As he goes down, I get up and immediately spot my gun, discarded on the other side of the room. I dart toward it and he grabs me by the ankle, sending me to the floor. I roll and kick at him twice, missing once and hitting him square in the face a second time. He grabs my leg and drags me across the floor.

We tussle for a second with him managing to grab my arms and pin me to the floor. I slide under him and bring my legs up, kicking him in his shoulders and in the back of his head.

“Goddammit!” he curses, trying to avoid my kicks. Finally, he reaches into his belt and pulls out a gun, pointing it at my head. “Enough already!”

I’m staring down the barrel of his gun and a million thoughts go through my mind. Do I try and disarm him? For all the martial arts that I know, I don’t think I can overpower him and if we end up fighting over this fucking gun, one of us will end up getting shot. I’d rather it not be me.

“There we go,” he says. A tendril of blood drips down his thrice broken nose. He sniffs and wipes at it with his free hand. “You are going to pay for that, you little bitch.”

With that he pistol whips me across my jaw… and everything goes black.

28

TITUS

Cyrus is alone. That’s a problem. A big fucking problem.

The moment I see him, I tense up and the next moment I realize that he’s alone, I reach for my gun.

He stops a few feet away from me as he sees me reach.

“Where is my son?” I growl at him.

“You really think I’d be stupid enough to bring him with me?” he says with a tilt of his head. “You didn’t train me to be a complete idiot.”

My hand holds the grip of my gun as I stare him down. He crosses his arms.