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“Looks like it’s been worth it.”
It was exactly the kind of place he wanted for Kira, the reason he’d purchased the Lake Forest house for her. He wanted her to have a house filled with books and music, a house where shecould play her piano by the window, where their children could run up and down the stairs, their laughter echoing through the rooms.
“I think so,” she said, leading him through a gourmet kitchen and stopping at a set of glass double doors. “And the work is part of the fun.”
He smiled. “I’ll take your word on that part.”
She opened the doors and led him outside to a multi-level terrace overlooking the back lawn.
“Dad! Dad! Look!”
Lyon followed the sound to a pool down the stairs and near the lawn where two boys splashed. Damian Cavallo crouched near the edge, his shirt sleeves rolled up as he put his hand in the water and said something to the boys.
He straightened all at once, as if he’d sensed Lyon — or more likely Aria — looking at him.
He lifted a hand, but Lyon had the sense it wasn’t meant for him. A second later, Aria lifted her hand, her smile almost wistful, as if they hadn’t seen each other in a long time even though they were married and probably saw each other every day.
Cavallo said something else to the boys, their dark hair slicked back like seals, and started toward Lyon and Aria.
“You found us,” Damian said, hurrying lightly up the terrace stairs and kissing Aria on the lips.
“I did.” Lyon looked around. “It’s quite a place.”
“I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here. We’re taking delivery on some furniture for the third floor today,” Damian said.
Lyon almost felt honored. He had the feeling Damian wasn’t a man who apologized often. “It’s no problem. I appreciate your help.”
“Can I get you anything? Iced tea? A beer? Coffee?” Aria asked.
“You don’t have to wait on us,” Damian said, “The boys want to show you their backflips.”
Aria groaned. “Another thing to keep me up at night.”
Damian turned to Lyon. “They’re a handful.”
Lyon found himself smiling. “Good for them.”
Damian laughed. “Easy for you to say.”
“Delivery should be in the next couple of hours,” Aria said, heading down the terrace steps toward the pool.
“I got it,” Damian said, his eyes lingering on her retreating figure. Damian turned his eyes on Lyon. “Ever feel like the luckiest guy in the world?”
“Every day,” Lyon said. “Except for the part where Vadim Ivanov wants to kill me.”
Damian nodded. “About that.” He gestured to the patio furniture that dotted the terrace near the kitchen. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
He hurried in through the kitchen and returned a few minutes later holding a manila envelope.
He handed it to Lyon. “Take a look.”
Lyon withdrew a stack of photographs, all stills from security cameras with varying degrees of detail. They were pictures of various men, some in suits, some in jeans and leather jackets. In some of the pictures the men stood against a brick building. In others, they congregated outside what looked to be a neighborhood deli or mini-market.
“These the guys you’re looking for?” Damian asked.
Lyon looked closer, holding the photos up to the sun, honing in on individuals in the photos. Finally, on the fourth photo, he found what he was looking for.
“This one,” he said. “Guy in the shirt, with the watch.”
