Free New Title 2 by K Larsen

Lying in Wait
     
     
    A Novel by K. Larsen

    LYING IN WAIT
    Copyright © 2015 by K. Larsen
     
    A Novel by K. Larsen
    Cover by: Cover Me Darling
    Editing: E. Adams
     
    Copyright © 2015 by K. Larsen
    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    Table of Contents
     
     
    Prologue
    Chapter 1
    Chapter 2
    Chapter 3
    Chapter 4
    Chapter 5
    Chapter 6
    Acknowledgements
    Other K. Larsen Books
    About K. Larsen

    Prologue
     
     
    Open.
    She struggled to force her eyes open.
    Agony.
    Please. Please.
    She waited for the white-hot agony to pass.
    She was exhausted. Tired. So tired.
    Her eyes snapped open finally.
    Unfocused.
    Yes, that’s it.
    The world was bleary. She blinked.
    Still hazy. Unfocused.
    Stay with me.
    How?
    Unconscious. For how long, she did not know.
    Her eyelids felt as if cinder blocks sat atop them.
    They dropped, closed. It was too hard to fight it.
    She dreamed voices.
     
    Rest. Just rest. You’re safe. You’re safe now fiore mio.
     
    Matteo.
    Safe.
    Blackness.

    Chapter 1
    March 2014
    ~ Matteo ~
     
    LYING IN WAIT- To constitute murder by lying in wait there must be an intentional infliction upon the person killed of bodily harm involving a high degree of probability that it will result in death and which shows a wanton disregard for human life.
     
     
    As far as Matteo was concerned, Gabriel Fontaine had sealed his fate the day he pulled the proverbial trigger and left his wife for dead in Paris. Matteo had witnessed it and in doing so, had evolved. He’d been concealed a safe distance from her. He watched in terror as Gabriel pulled her into an embrace. In horror as he’d pulled a knife and plunged it into her back. What a coward he’d been. A cruel coward. In that one instant, he’d gone from doting best friend who dutifully stepped aside, who tucked his feelings for Celeste away because she’d been elated and he wanted nothing more than her happiness, to a man who would take what he wanted. And he’d wanted Celeste. He knew he should have run, gotten as far away from her as he could. Far away from the violence that surrounded her. But he couldn’t do it.
    He knew it was selfish but if he lost her, it would destroy him. So he’d changed right alongside her. Let the shadows and memories consume him over the years.
    He sat near the window in their rental wondering, worrying really, about his wife.
    Wife. Such a boring word. It did nothing to describe their connection. The depth of it. The meaning of it. They were more . . . intricate. He lit a cigarette. Inhaled. Exhaled. Chuckled to himself. She secretly loved the odor but she would be nagging him if she were here. But she wasn’t. So he enjoyed his smoke earnestly.
    Matteo wouldn’t be able to see her for another week. He worried she wouldn’t be able to go through with it in the end. That she would grow too fond of the girl. Celeste had a soft spot for people. She was never able to give in fully to the fury that fueled her. But now she wore her hatred like a neon sign. Easy to read. He watched the sky fade from pink to navy. They had come so far together.
    As he did most evenings over the past week, he reached for her journal. The leather bound book was now scratched and supple from years of use. He stubbed out his cigarette, leaned back into the oversized chair, and flipped it open to the first page. It wasn’t an invasion of her privacy. She knew he read