Chapter 11
JULIAN
The sun comes up over Astoria in brilliant orange and yellow.
I’m leaning against the hood of my SUV, parked across the street from Lyra’s building, watching the sunlight crawl across the brick facade, and catching the third-floor windows—her windows.
I’ve been out here nearly five hours, watching her building, watching the street, watching every single car that passes and every pedestrian that lingers too long. The man from last night is long gone, but the threat persists.
It’s a chilly morning, and my thoughts keep drifting back to that warm bed and the warm, beautiful body still in it.
Flashes from last night appear unbidden—the face she made when I entered her, the way she bit her lip as she came.
A big part of me wants to go back upstairs and claim her again and again, damn the consequences.
But that’s a luxury I can’t indulge in right now.
A black sedan with blacked-out windows rounds the corner and pulls up alongside my SUV.
Ethan steps out, two coffees in hand, his expression shifting from recognition to concern to resignation in about half a second.
“You’ve been here all night.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“I’ve been monitoring the block.”
He hands me a coffee. “You’ve been monitoring her. Did you sleep last night?”
“A little.”
He leans against the SUV beside me, and we both look up at the third floor together. “She’s fine. I’ve had my guy posted in the twenty-four-hour bakery over there since ten last night. No suspicious movement.”
“I know. I’ve been watching him watch her.”
He lets out a slow breath.
“Got some news,” he says.
“What is it?”
“Dobrov’s people made a move on one of our warehouses in East New York last night.”
I say nothing, narrowing my eyes and letting him go on.
“But we got them on the security cams. Already located in Brighton Beach, operating out of one of Dobrov’s secondary offices.”
“Good. Pick them up and deliver a message.”
“What kind of message?”
“The physical kind. Then drop them off right where you found them. Make sure Dobrov knows about it.”
He nods. No hesitation. He’s been with me long enough to know what I mean, without too many words needing to be spoken.
“Ready to move?” he asks.
I glance back up at her apartment. I want to stay longer, but the Brighton Beach situation needs my personal attention now. Then to the office. Then sleep. Maybe sleep.
“One second.”
I take out my phone, quickly typing a text and sending it. But before I put my phone back in my pocket, a thought occurs to me.
I type a second message and hit send.
Ethan and I get into our vehicles and pull away from the curb, heading south towards Brighton Beach. I watch Lyra’s building shrink in the rearview mirror until we turn the corner and it’s out of sight.
The sun is up fully now, the city waking. And back in that building, Lyra is about to wake up and see that I’m not there.
I couldn’t stay. I had to make sure she was safe.
But time will tell whether or not that will quell the anger she’s moments away from feeling.