AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was possible Alek had slipped one of the officers a hundred dollar bill. It was just as possible they’d run the plates and saw that the car belonged to a high-ranking member of the bratva.
“Penthouse?” Alek asked.
“Lake Forest.”
A flicker of surprise passed over Alek’s features. He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.
Less than an hour later they were pulling up the long driveway and around the courtyard in front of the house.
Lyon reached for the door handle.
“Want company?” Alek asked.
“No.” Lyon exited the car.
He made his way up the front walk and reached into his coat for the keys. He opened the door and stepped into the foyer, then closed the door behind him.
It was cold in the house, although not as cold as it was outside. No point heating the monstrous building beyond what was required to keep the pipes from freezing.
He made his way down the long hall and into the kitchen, let his gaze rove over the aging cabinets and appliances, forced himself not to see the vision of the future he’d had in his mind when he’d bought the place.
It was just a house now. Just an aging house in need of renovation, a renovation someone else would have to undertake.
Kira’s power over him was built on the past. On the way he’d allowed himself to feel about her. On the dreams he’d allowed himself to have about their future.
Now it was time to be realistic. Time to be honest.
That meant cutting ties with those dreams, starting with the house.
He wandered into the living room and stared at the fireplace where he’d burned the letter Kira had written when she’d left him.
I think it’s time we both admit our business arrangement is no longer expeditious for either of us.
He would sell this house. He would sell this house and banish every dream he’d had about it — about him and Kira in it together — to the far reaches of his mind until they were nothing more than a distant memory.
Kira would spend her days as his wife in the penthouse downtown, not here in this house, a house he’d imagined her filling with books and music and children. Theirs would be the business arrangement he’d first planned, not the love story he’d allowed himself to imagine. The sooner he got used to the idea, the better.
He would call a real estate agent in the morning.
He took a last look around the room and made his way back into the hall. He continued into the foyer without stopping to look back and stepped onto the porch.
The sun had sunk lower in the sky while he’d been inside. It was a sliver over the trees on the horizon, the light glinting off the snow and ice. He felt in the pockets of his coat for his sunglasses, then remembered he’d set them in the Rover’s console on the drive from Millennium Park.
He stepped off the porch and was turning away when sunlight flared briefly in his peripheral.
It was all wrong.
Not the glare of sun on snow, but something else.
He dropped to the ground as a bullet whizzed overhead, splintering the timber of the house’s facade as it lodged beneath its surface.
Alek was out of the car, ducking and running toward him, gun drawn.
“Stay down!” he commanded Lyon as he ran past.
Lyon leapt to his feet, drew his gun, and followed Alek across the lawn. He drew his gun from his holster, his coat fanning out behind him as he ran.
Alek spared a glance backward at him but didn’t bother warning him off.
