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He hurried down the hall and flung open the front door, trying to register what he was seeing: a group of people on the front lawn that included Mauz, Beck, and Ryker, plus an older woman Logan didn’t recognize.
“What’s going on?”
He’d barely gotten the words out when the crowd parted and Leo came into view, holding a lollipop. His dinosaur shirt was stained, his face a little tired, but otherwise he looked okay.
“Leo?” Logan raced toward him. He knelt in front of him, running his hands over Leo’s shoulders and legs, checking him for injury. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
And then, a shriek as Gabriella tumbled out of the house and onto the lawn. She fell to her knees next to Logan and pulled Leo into her arms.
“My baby…” She was sobbing, clutching Leo so tightly to her chest the kid looked like he was having trouble breathing. She pulled away to look at him and seemed to reassure herself that he was safe. “Oh my god… I can’t believe it.”
Nathan knelt beside them, wrapping his arms around them both while Gabriella cried.
“We need to call the police,” Mauz said softly. “Neighbor found the kid wandering around the block.”
Logan nodded.
“We have to take a vacation,” Leo said suddenly, his small voice rising above the commotion.
Gabriella looked confused. “What? What are you saying, honey?”
Leo’s face was solemn. “The man. Barry.”
“Who’s Barry, buddy?” Nathan asked.
“The man who took me for ice cream. He’s a friend of mommy’s. He said we need to take a vacation.” He looked at Gabriella. “Can we, Mommy? I want to go to Disneyland.”
“Call the cops,” Logan said to Mauz.
When he turned his eyes back to Gabriella, she was looking not at Leo, but at him.
She swallowed hard enough that he saw her throat ripple. “We’ll go,” she said. “We’ll go to California now.”
28
Lyon stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse, pausing to take in the progress that had been made since his last visit: the travertine floors had been laid, the drywall taped. The seams were still rough and in need of sanding, but that would come next.
He walked into the large room that would comprise the apartment’s kitchen, dining, and living rooms and noted with satisfaction that the countertops had been installed. He’d had the Carrera marble imported from Italy along with the travertine, and he was happy with how it complimented the kitchen’s custom ebony cabinets.
He continued to the wall of windows overlooking the city. The view was what had sold him on the place, although Millennium Park’s prestige hadn’t hurt.
This was a view befitting his eventual position, one at the top of the city, its lights shimmering like stars in the darkness of night. The master bedroom had an entirely different view, Lake Michigan stretching like the sea into the distance.
Both views were infinitely better than the brick wall that faced the tiny apartment he kept in West Town, an apartment that raised no eyebrows, that drew no suspicion from the men who thought he worked for them.
That apartment was his past. This was his future. It was the most coveted apartment at the Park, and Lyon had paid a fortune for it, thanking his father’s foresight every step of the way.
It was one of many secrets he’d been holding close for many years: the money hidden away by his father before his trial, his father’s letters, written from prison, offering Lyon guidance.
The money was helpful. It would allow Lyon to establish a proper seat of power, without having to beg assistance from Viktor Baranov.
That part was important. The deal he would strike with Viktor would be mutually beneficial. Borrowing money would not have been. That would have changed their power dynamic, giving Viktor control over him, and that was something Lyon wouldn’t allow once his pieces had been moved into place on the chessboard of their enterprise.
Thanks to his father’s planning, Lyon had more than enough money to establish himself as the head of the Baranov bratva, a title he would have eventually earned if his father hadn’t taken the fall for Viktor Baranov.
He crossed his arms and considered the timing. It had been a mistake for Yakov to take the lawyer’s boy, the kind of mistake Lyon had been waiting for the other man to make. He’d made plenty in the past of course, but his ties to the Baranov bratva were strong, going back three generations. Those ties had given him plentiful consideration by Viktor, but Lyon had always known that consideration would come to an end.
That end was near.
