Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
As the warm glow of the pendant light above the dinner table casts a comforting halo around John's smiling face, I feel a contentment that's as rich as the wine we're sipping. The aroma of our homemade lasagna fills the cozy apartment, and the soft hum of jazz from the stereo wraps us in a serene blanket of sound. The quietness of the Friday night is a welcome embrace after a hectic week, allowing us to simply be.
"John, do you remember the last time we talked about going on a vacation? Just the two of us, leaving the city behind, and letting the worries of work and responsibilities melt away?" I ask, a twinkle of excitement in my eyes as I set down my wine glass.
John's eyes light up, and he sets his own glass down, leaning slightly forward in his chair. "Of course, I do, Mindy. We talked about that beach resort, right?" He says, his voice filled with the same anticipation that I feel bubbling in my chest. "I've been looking into it, and I found some amazing deals for the off-season. Imagine the two of us, toes in the sand, the sound of the waves as our lullaby."
The sudden knock on the door jolts through the quiet like a lightning bolt, making me jump. John's expression shifts from excitement to confusion, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. It's not even 8 PM, who could it be?
"I'll get it," John says, rising from his chair. He walks over to the door, wiping his hands on the apron still tied around his waist. The sound of his bare feet on the cool tiles echoes through the small space as he approaches.
I listen closely as the murmur of male voices filters through the wood. John's voice is familiar, but the others are unmistakably new to my ears. They're deeper, with a gruffness that seems out of place in the serene setting we've created for our evening. My curiosity piqued, I lean slightly to the side to peek through the crack between the kitchen and the dining area. Two figures, silhouetted by the hallway light, stand in the doorway. One is taller, with broad shoulders that stretch the fabric of his leather jacket, while the other is shorter, his features obscured by a low-hanging hat.
As the door swings open wider, the tension in the room thickens like the sauce on the stove. The shorter man shoves John inside with a force that makes me gasp. The taller one follows, his boots thudding against the floor like the beat of an ominous drum. John stumbles backward, his eyes wide with shock, and I see his hand tighten around the handle of the kitchen knife he'd used to slice tomatoes earlier. The men's faces are shadowed, but their intent is as clear as the clinking of the knife on the tile as John drops it in favor of trying to stand his ground. The shorter man chuckles, a cold sound that sends shivers down my spine. "Looks like we've interrupted dinner," he says, his voice a low growl. "But don't worry, we won't stay for long."