Burned Dreams - Page 75

Two years later, a village near Le Puy-en-Velay, France.

Beep.

My hand stills halfway to the toaster.

It’s one of the alarms, signaling a perimeter breach. I have motion detectors everywhere, set up to create four concentric circles of security around our property. When triggered, it means someone has crossed one of the sensor boundary lines and is getting nearer.

I look toward the back deck where my wife is setting up for breakfast, whistling something to herself. Her mother and brother said they’d drop by later, but it’s too early to be them.

Beep. Beep.

Two beeps mean the intruders have reached the second boundary. Based on how fast they are moving, it must be a vehicle.

“Ravi,” I call as I slide open the drawer and take out my gun. “I need you to go upstairs, baby.”

Ravenna stops what she’s doing and looks over her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

“Looks like we have some uninvited guests.”

Having a fence around the property as well as cameras may be useful security measures, but I would never set these up around our home. My wife won’t ever again feel like a prisoner whose every step is being watched. And anyone who wishes her harm would need to go through me first to reach her.

Ravenna leaves the plates on the table and heads inside the kitchen. Her long hair cascades like a shimmering black curtain down her back and bounces up a little with every step she takes. She rounds the breakfast bar separating the living area from the kitchen and comes to stand next to me.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Please,” I say and nod toward the stairs leading to the loft.

She just smiles at me and reaches into the large decorative bowl on the counter, from which she takes out one of my other guns and cocks it.

“No,” I growl.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Fuck. They’ve crossed the last perimeter boundary.

“Ravenna.”

She tilts her head to the side and places her palm on my cheek. “You’ll never have to tread through the enemy lines alone, Alessandro. You taught me well.” She lifts onto her toes and kisses my lips. “I’ll be okay.”

I never should have told her about my missions. Or trained her to shoot.

A car horn blares outside. The person behind the wheel doesn’t seem to be satisfied with one honk and keeps hitting the thing in quick succession like a maniac. It’s a combination of short and long honks, the pattern repeating in cycles.

“Perfect,” I mumble and kiss my wife, then throw the gun back into a drawer. “You can put that away, baby.”

“Someone you know?”

“Unfortunately.”

I step through the front door and glare at the newcomer. There is only one person who’d come to my home and use his car horn as Morse code to relay a message. The message?

It’s me, hi.

“Really, Belov?” I cross my hands over my chest.

“What? You’re not a fan of pop-rock?” The blond man jumps out of his car and narrows his eyes at me. “How long has it been? Ten years? Man, you're old.”

“Alessandro.” Ravenna peeks from behind me. “Are you going to introduce your friend?”