“I do blame you,” he said flatly. “Told you before, you have to be more careful about who you hire.”
My eyes narrowed. “You know, you’re diminishing the happymy-boyfriend-is-a-heroglow I’ve got going on, here.”
“Think I’ll survive. Themy-boyfriend-saved-my-lifesex later will surely make up for it.”
He was not wrong.
The sirens grew so loud, they were wince-inducing. I saw the accompanying strobe of red and blue lights flashing against the crooked tombstones all around us as a dozen squad cars squealed into the parking lot. Graham’s men were slowly marching the Heretics back into our line of sight. The cloaked figures’ hands were bound behind their backs with cable ties. They looked like sad, broken dolls, staring at the grass despondently.
“She killed Eliza,” I whispered, my eyes flickering from Hetti’s prone form to Graham’s face. “She admitted it.”
He nodded. “Figured as much. Hightower will take her — and all her minions — into custody. We’ll make sure she’s put away for a long time, baby. She won’t hurt you again.”
It was at this moment, as if conjured, that Caden Hightower arrived on the scene. He ran up to us, gun in hand, chest covered by a bullet proof vest. His bright blue eyes swept the scene, taking in the paramedics hustling toward the incapacitated Bay Colony ladies, the Gravewatch boys standing guard over the Heretics, Hetti writhing on the ground, me sitting on the tomb, and Graham standing at my side, the conquering hero.
“See you’ve got things pretty well handled, Graves,” he muttered, but there was no anger in his tone. “Not sure why I bothered getting this badge when you’re going to do my job for me.”
“You get the fun part, Hightower.” Graham gestured down at Hetti.
Caden grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dark. “True enough.” His bright grin faded as he looked at me. “You okay, Gwen?”
I managed a nod. “I’m fine.”
Graham scoffed.
Cade didn’t look like he fully believed me, but he nodded. Holstering his gun, he exchanged it for a set of cuffs. Before he knelt to slap them on Hetti’s wrists, he met Graham’s gaze one last time. There was no humor in his eyes. Not at all. His stare was deadly serious, as were his words.
“You’ll take care of her.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. But Graham answered him anyway.
“You know I will,” Graham said, sounding just as deadly serious as Cade. “Not in my nature to let go of something priceless once it’s in my hands.”
“You’re a lucky bastard, you know that?”
Graham shrugged. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it, Hightower. Takes work. Takes patience of a goddamned saint. But god knows, it’s worth it.” He paused. “You’ll see what I mean when you meet her.”
“Who?” Cade asked lowly.
“Your world,” Graham answered.
At that point, done with the conversation whether it was finished or not, he turned his back on the detective. Apparently he had no interest in seeing how it all played out — not with Hetti’s arrest, not with his men, not with the paramedics. As soon as his gun was holstered, he lifted me into his arms, one going behind my back, the other sliding beneath my knees. Then, I was cradled against his chest and we were moving — across the dark graveyard, down a short flight of uneven stone steps, to the street where the Bronco was parked. He bleeped the locks and settled me into the passenger seat with so much care, you’d think I was made of glass. He even buckled my seatbelt for me.
When he made to pull back, I laced one of my hands behind his neck and yanked him close, until our foreheads bonked together.
“Graham?”
“Right here, gorgeous.”
I sucked in a breath, almost afraid to hope. “It’s over, right?”
His fingers slid into the hair by my nape. I almost groaned, it felt so good. His mouth came down to brush mine.
“Yeah, baby. It’s over,” he whispered against my lips. “No more fear. No more walking on eggshells. No moreexisting.” Another lip brush, this one longer, stirring the banked heat inside me to a small blaze. “Time to startliving.”
I kissed him back with as much strength as I could manage — which wasn’t much, given my body was still fighting the after-effects of the drugs — until we were both breathing hard, our hands roaming places that weren’t exactly appropriate for a crime scene. Several cops were standing by the fence less than a dozen feet away, chattering into their radios as their colleagues loaded Heretics into the back of squad cars.
“Graham?”