“In about six hours, an envelope is going to be delivered to the Chicago Task Force that lists all the action, activities, and holdings of your little kingdom,” Ian explained casually. “Every little pie your fingers are in will be shut down and under the control of the police then the Feds.
“But here’s the thing, your name isn’t directly tied to any of the information, unless I send the second envelope. Oh, and all your little buddies up there smoking and playing poker they are all listed as well. Imagine how it will look when they’re all heading upstate to jail and you’re the only one out.” Ian smiled coldly. “Who will they think is the rat who sold them out?”
“You’d set up your old man like that?” His father’s voice held a tremor, another tell.
“Like you said, Pop, I’m not your son, you own my ass,” Ian pointed out. “But I’m taking my life back and I owe you no loyalty. Get your life right and get out of this city, all shit is going to hit the fan.”
“You fucking little upstart. I should have made your mother rip you from her womb,” his father snarled.
Ian stood. “Yeah, but you didn’t, so that’s on you. You should really consider contacting the Feds and making a deal and getting that money hidden nice and neat so you have a nest egg.”
“What about you, King?” his father asked icily. “How do you get away with clean hands after all you’ve done? Will the little bitch love you if she knew all you did?”
“She loves me in spite of what I did and you’ll never understand that. Besides, I was just the muscle and was always too dumb to know how to do the real stuff. I remember you saying that when I was about seventeen and I was bigger than you. I guess being a dumb brute served me well, or was it that I was smart enough to keep myself protected, even from you?” Ian stood. “I’d say see you around, old man, but I plan to never set eyes on you ever again. Mom, I may check on wherever you land, but you...nah. Oh, and if I ever catch a whiff of you or your people near Kiya or me, trust me, one wants to see what King Mordha has up his sleeves. I can flip that deadly switch and none of you would be safe. I don’t care where the Feds hide you.”
“I’m proud of you, son, you outfoxed your old man,” his father called out as he walked towards the door. Ian saw it as a last ditch attempt to sway him.
“Yeah? Well, keep your pride, I’m free of you.”
With those words, Ian left his father’s house and would never be back again. He left his old world in that SUV, parked at one of the restaurants his father was known to own shares in, and around the corner he got into his new red Chevy Bronco. Kiya was waiting on her apartment steps as the sun rose, her bags and the boxes of what she wanted to take with her neatly on the sidewalk in front of her. He parked and got out, coming around the truck to take her in his arms. He felt like the pieces of his life fell into place when she held him and looked up into his eyes with a smile and he knew love.
Ian kissed her gently. “Are you sure you’re ready to go?”
The question was more than just to leave town...it meant her family, her life and all that she knew. He had no real ties anymore but she did.
“More than ready, let the first day of our new life begin,” Kiya said with certainty in her voice.
He loaded her things in the back of the truck and by the time he got into the driver’s seat she was buckled in and the seat warmers were on.
“Is your ass hot?” Kiya teased and he laughed out loud.
As the sun rose over a cold and wintery Chicago, they were driving out of the city, holding hands and not looking back.
* * * *
One Year Later...
How his life has changed. Ian looked around at his new existence and was never happier. A year ago he was breaking faces and trying to extricate himself from the Mordha organization, and now he owned The Finer Things in Life, a bookstore in Austin, Texas. That was where they landed after they drove out of Chicago—a warm place filled with artists, nightlife and good people completely different from the concrete jungle of Chicago. Sometimes they drove to the beach and even when he knew that Chicago was in the depths of winter, there was only a slight chill in the air in Austin.
They became Ian and Kiya Doyle, the last name from his mother’s side of the family, and after a few months, with help from Riley and a trusted lawyer, it was legal. He married Kiya in a small ceremony on the beaches in Galveston. He used his past life to his advantage. He picked up a book from one of the displays in his bookstore and looked at the dust jacket. King Mordha was still on the New York Times Bestsellers list. He wrote it using his real name and everything from the deal with editors to the publisher was done anonymously. Ian assumed that was what kept the interest in the book going, the fact that no one knew where he was, especially after his father turned federal witness and the entire organization was taken down. Kiya was surprised when he showed her the manuscript that he worked on in secret. But he’d never seen so much pride in love on one face after it was published.
“And you said you didn’t have hobbies,” she teased as they looked at the books that Riley sent. His address for publishing this book was a P.O Box outside Chicago in a small town.
He shrugged embarrassed. “How would it look to tell you I loved writing and books all the while being an enforcer for my father?”
“It would say you have layers,” she said and kissed him. “I love every layer of my husband, the good and the bad.”
That was the perfection of his wife, his Kiya. He looked over at his wife as she talked with two new parents in the children’s area. Kiya was breathtaking in a pale blue dress and her hair in loose heavy curls around her face. Her smile was bright as she used her hands to sign to the parents, who were both deaf, as were the children. Kiya used the children’s area three times a week for story time and art classes for children with disabilities. Her program was well received in the area because they were far too few.
Kiya was known for being lively and fun, bringing the shy children out of their shells. She spoke to her mother and father infrequently and sometimes to Kevin. If he asked about Ian’s way of life, Kiya usually shut him down. The relationship between her and her family was strained. They still disapproved of their lives together, especially after how they left Chicago. Even so, they were happy and planned to stay that way.
Even the building they bought made him happy. The exposed brick with broken plaster gave it the art deco feel he loved. They lived upstairs, converted it into a three-bedroom because eventually there would be children. Ian was excited for that part of his life. It was already full, but he wanted to be a father.
“I wonder how that guy did it—fell off the map and still managed to write a book about his life.” A customer wandered over and took one of Ian’s books and placed it on the counter.
“Sometimes to have a peaceful life, people need to leave the past behind,” Ian commented.
“You think he really did leave it all behind and leave his father’s organization, or is he working on the down low?” the woman whispered conspiratorially.
Ian leaned forward with a wicked grin. “You never know. I think this is the only book we’ll see from the man.”
“Pity, he has a good voice,” the woman said.
Ian rang her purchases up, slipped a few coupons in and a flyer for the poetry slam the high school kids would be having later in the week. The woman walked away with a friendly wave and Kiya walked over while her new clients and their children explored the children’s area. Kiya leaned her elbows on the counter. “She’s right, you have a good voice. You should write something else. But as yourself not King, I can see you writing suspense and smoking a pipe in the office.”
“Is that your fantasy? Because we can so do that,” Ian teased.
She slapped at his hand. “Maybe later, but I’m serious.”
“I’m working on something,” Ian admitted and pressed a kiss to her lips before warning, “No peeking until it’s done.”
“Okay as long as I get first r
ead,” she replied with a smile.
“Are they all signed up? Should I get some cookies for the kids?” Ian asked, thinking about the cookies she’d made the night before.
“Two for them, three for you, huh?” Kiya laughed. “Yes, get them some, please.”
He went to the back room and returned with the covered plate. Ian offered them and their parents the platter with a smile, then set it down on one of the small kid’s bookshelves in the bookstore. He signed to the children, Are you liking the store? How about you pick a book to take home? They nodded eagerly and, with a cookie in hand, ran off to find a book they wanted. Their parents thanked him using sign language and he felt a sense of pride that Kiya was able to teach him how to communicate with the hearing impaired. Later, after they left, Kiya sat behind the counter with him sharing a sandwich, and he looked at her.
“Thank you for all of this,” Ian said suddenly.
Kiya looked at him, surprised. “Honey, we made all of this together.”
He picked up her hand and kissed it. “But without you, I’d still be in Chicago breaking bones for that man. You changed my life, my world, and I’ve never felt this level of happiness.”
“I love you.” Kiya got to her knees in front of him and cupped his face and kissed him gently. “I will always love you for how brave, strong, and damn amazing you are.”
“You believed and saw something in me that others didn’t—that I didn’t even— see,” Ian confessed. “I love you too, my very sweet Kiya.”
“Mmm...call me that later when you have the pipe,” she teased and kissed him again.
Ian laughed at her quirky sense of humor that showed up when he least expected it. She sat down again and together they talked about the books, plans, and what to make for dinner. The sun beamed from a bright blue sky through the windows of the bookstore and settled on his book and on the shelves beyond. Outside people walked by, and if they spied him and Kiya, they waved. They were friendly, not scared, because they trusted them as people in a community of goodhearted residents. Ian knew he didn’t have to be king of anything his father built in Chicago on the backs and blood of decent people. He just had to be a man in love with his wife, looking toward the future.
The End
Coming Soon ... Irish Remedy by Dahlia Rose, Riley wanted to be free of the life that he saw almost destroy his bestfriend. But to save Marley from the gang she thought she owed loyalties to, Riley may do the unspeakable.
About the Author.
Dahlia Rose is the best-selling author of contemporary, military and paranormal romance with a hint of Caribbean spice. She was born and raised on a Caribbean island and now currently lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, with her five kids, who she affectionately nicknamed “The Children of the Corn,” and her biggest supporter and longtime love. She has a love of erotica, dark fantasy, sci-fi, and the things that go bump in the night. With over six dozen books published Dahlia has become a reader favorite. Not only because of her writing but her vivacious attitude in talking to her fans online and at various events. Books and writing are her biggest passions, and she hopes to open your imagination to the unknown between the pages of her books.
http://hearttoheartwithdahliarose.blogspot.com
www.facebook.com/author.dahliarose
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