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Lyon hurried through the kitchen, pausing to put his back to one of the walls while Alek did the same on the other side of a narrow doorway that looked like it led to a living room.
“Kitchen clear,” Alek said.
“Copy that,” Tony said. “Living room clear, except for the dead body in front of the hall.”
“We’ll cover the hall,” Leo said.
“Copy.” Normally Lyon would have them clear it, but he didn’t want to risk a confrontation between them and Musa, didn’t want to risk an itchy trigger finger if they came under fire.
Lyon stepped into the living room and saw Tony and Leo standing on opposite sides of a hall that stretched narrow and dark beyond them. He was relieved to see they looked bored.
Another day, another dollar in their business.
Lyon started for the hall, and Alek stepped in front of him. “Let me.”
Lyon hesitated. He would rather take a bullet than have Alek take one for him, but he was pakhan now. Protection came with the territory, and Alek was a professional.
Lyon nodded and stepped aside.
Alek moved past him into the hall.
“Here if you need us,” Tony said blandly as Lyon followed.
He crept down the hall after Alek, not because they were hoping to go undetected — that ship had sailed with the dead guy in the living room — but because they were watching every corner, every shadow for movement.
There were four doors, two on either side of the hall. Alek cleared the first one and mouthed the wordbathroombefore moving past it.
The second one stood opposite. A bedroom, probably.
Alek stepped into that one and the silence was split with a burst of gunfire. Lyon didn’t have time to register the details. A split second later, the shadows shifted toward the door at the end of the hall.
Lyon spun just in time to see a figure step out of the last bedroom. He couldn’t make out the man’s features, but he knew the build, knew the stance as the man raised his weapon.
They’d been allies once, if not friends. Lyon had been looking for him for weeks, had imagined this moment a hundred times since the attack on Kira.
He mowed Musa down at the knees, a straight line right through the man’s legs.
He barely felt the two bullets that lodged in his vest, and the one that lodged in his thigh was just a sting compared to the triumph that soared through him as he advanced on Musa.
He’d collapsed to the floor, his legs a bloody mess, and was stretching to reach his fallen gun, dropped a few feet from his body.
Lyon shot his right hand first, then his left.
Musa screamed.
Lyon stood over him.
“Are you going to say something clever now?” Musa said through pained gasps. “Was that for your whore of a wife?”
“No,” Lyon said. “That was just for me. What I’m going to do to you next is for my wife.”
“Bedroom is clear,” Alek said. “Guy’s phone is programmed for Russian.”
“Not surprised,” Lyon said.
“What do you want me to do with him?” Alek asked, looking down at Musa.
“Take him to the other house,” Lyon said.
