Chapter 11 - The Headlights in the Snow
The sudden sweep of twin headlights cut through the frosted front windows, casting long, erratic shadows across the living room walls.
Lauren froze. Her eyes darted from me to the window, the anger on her face instantly replaced by sheer panic.
"Who is that?" I asked, rising to my feet, my protective instincts flaring. "The plows don't run at four in the morning during a red-alert blizzard."
Lauren didn't answer. She backed away from the window, her hand flying to her mouth. "No. No, not tonight. He wasn't supposed to be back until the weekend."
"Who, Lauren?" I demanded, my voice dropping. "Who is driving up your driveway in the middle of a blizzard?"
Outside, a heavy car door slammed shut, followed by the crunch of heavy boots marching through the deep snow up the front porch steps.
Whoever it was didn't knock.
The brass doorknob jiggled, and then the sound of a key sliding into the deadbolt echoed through the silent house.
The lock clicked.
The front door swung open, letting in a blast of sub-zero wind and a flurry of white snow. Standing in the doorway, brushing the ice from the collar of a heavy shearling jacket, was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a key ring in his gloved hand.
He stamped his boots on the mat, shut the door against the storm, and looked up with a warm smile that instantly died the moment his eyes landed on me standing in my socks in Lauren's living room.
"Lauren?" the man said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly baritone. "The storm closed the interstate, so I turned the rig around to spend Christmas with you and Leo."
May you like
He looked at my overnight bag on the floor, then at the tears drying on Lauren's face, and finally, his cold blue eyes locked onto mine.
"Who the hell is this?"
