My father is dead. He can never hurt me or anyone else ever again. But most importantly, he can’t hurt Mac.
Turning to the only man I want to see right now—who I still don't know whether he will kill me or take me home—I feel my knees collapse from under me.
Chapter twenty-eight
Mac
WhileIneverexpectedto see E killing someone, let alone his dad, the sight is unexpectedly hot. He doesn’t stand there and meekly allow his father to spin lies, he fights back. For a brief second, I think a bullet is headed my way, but when E sees the danger, he turns the gun on his father.
The view of Thomas Miller’s blood and brains brings me a sense of finality, even if it means I don’t get to make his pain last. Seeing his father’s insides on the outside has a different effect on E, who falls to his knees in the space between the body and the desk.
“Are you alright?” I ask, taking a step closer with my hand out.
Not everyone can take death well, but I don’t need him vomiting on the crime scene. Or crying over a man who doesn’t deserve his grief. Plus, I find I want him to be okay. I need my pet to be happy and safe.
“I’m…” E looks up at me and I see dry eyes. “I think I’m a little in shock, Sir.”
Taking a deep breath, I crouch down to caress his face. I didn’t like being apart from him for even a day. “Am I?”
E’s face scrunches up in confusion, but he leans into my touch. “What?”
Surely he has to feel some annoyance of betrayal at how I left him in Manhattan. For all he knew, I wasn’t coming back for him. I need to make myself clear.
“Your Sir. Are you still mine, E?”
He takes a minute to process my question and then E looks me in the eyes. The corner of his full lips lifts in a smirk, and I rejoice internally to see it again. “I think I’ve been yours since we met.”
“Good,” I nod, holding out my hand to lift E to his feet. Pulling him against my body, I tilt his head back to make him look at me. All I find in his eyes is devotion. “Because I plan to keep you.”
“Keep me?” E asks, hope in his voice before he licks his lips.
Not able to resist, I smash my mouth down on his. It’s rough, raw and full of passion, as if we were parted for months instead of only a day. E’s hands grip my sides tight before he moves them to my shoulders. He’s on his tiptoes to accommodate for our six-inch height difference, but he uses a bit of force to try and keep me in place.
There’s no need for force, I’m happy right where I am. Kissing my pet while his father’s still-warm body lays at our feet.
Slowing the kiss, E whimpers in protest, but I pull back just enough to see his face. I trail the hand I have at the back of his head around to trace the collar I locked onto him when I still wasn’t sure why I cared so much. Now, I know the truth.
“I promise to keep you forever, E.”
Whether it’s my vow or the use of his name, my pet’s eyes go wide and his mouth slack. Chuckling, I close his mouth and step back to hold his hand. E squeezes my hand, a grin slipping onto his face, and I look back down at his father.
“We need to stage this scene,” I tell him, analyzing the situation. I drop the bloody knife on the desk. Let them think he stabbed his own men and took his life. The gun is in his hand after all.
“Oh, are we ready to get back on mission now? Sir…” Di’s rhythmic teasing breaks the last bit of the bubble I created with E. “Because Miller’s men are twenty minutes out with the helicopter.”
“We have fifteen minutes to get out of here,” I explain to E. I grab Miller’s briefcase and pull E past the desk and out to the hall. “Grab anything you need.”
E glances down at the suitcase I assume he left in the hall, which I used to kill Booker. There’s no blood on it, so I won’t mind lugging it with us. Booker turned out to be more muscle than brains, and he’d been easy to trip over the piece of luggage before I stabbed him in the gut.
“You still have that picture of my mom in your apartment?” E asks, barely sparing a glance at the dead bodyguard. I nod and he tugs me over the body and pool of blood to the stairs. “Everything else is replaceable.”
After that, we don’t hesitate. I lead E around to turn the power back on, confirming with Di that the cameras will remain off until we’re out of site. Racing down the stairs to the beach, we hear a helicopter approaching.
“Duck,” I say while not waiting for E to comply. We crouch down between the end of the stairs and some tall beachgrass. The helicoptergets closer until I see the lights of it descending towards the front of the Miller property. “Let’s move.”
“Neighbors’ cameras are on a loop, you’re good to go,” Di assures me.
Running on sand makes us slower, and I feel like E is holding his breath the whole way to the set of stairs that take us up to my car. We can’t hear the helicopter over the waves anymore, but they may have also found the bodies by now.