“Die,” I heard, a wet whisper from my right.
I pressed my gun against Jean’s head and pulled the trigger. He fell to the ground, not moving.
“Fuck,” I said.
The trooper appeared at my side. “We need an ambulance!” he yelled. “We have a stabbing!”
“Easton!” Laney yelled. “Easton, what’s happening?”
I pushed past the trooper and dropped to my knees. Laney was huddled in a cage, manacles dangling above her head. She stared at me and was unhurt.
“Laney,” I said softly. I could feel the pain, feel the bleeding, but I didn’t care.
I had her. I had her. She was safe and the killer was dead.
Suddenly, the world tilted.
“Easton?” she said, pushing against the bars. “Somebody help!”
“Laney, this was for you.” I smiled at her weakly. I saw black coming into the edges of my vision.
Someone grabbed me before I fell.
My side ached like a mother fucker.
I came to slowly, my eyes blinking awake. I was lying on my back in a bed and there was a beeping sound next to me. The room was lit by harsh fluorescent lights.
“Easton?”
I turned my head with a little effort. Sitting there by my side was a fucking angel.
“Laney.”
She smiled. “Hey. You’re awake.”
“Where the hell am I?”
“You’re in a hospital. You were stabbed.”
I grinned. “Stabbed? So what?” I tried to sit up.
“Not so fast,” she said, smiling. She pushed me back down. “You need to see the doctor first.”
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
She nodded. “He didn’t touch me.”
“Laney, I—”
“Later. Tell me later.”
I reached out and grabbed her hand before she could move away. “I love you.”
She blinked, surprised. “I know that. I love you too. Now talk to the doctor.”
I laughed softly, even though it fucking hurt. “Fine.”
The doctor explained it all pretty succinctly. I had a stab wound to the side, but I was lucky that it hadn’t hit anything vital. I was going to be in a hospital bed for a few days, and in pain for a few weeks, but I was going to be just fine.
I was lucky. I was so damn lucky, but Martin hadn’t been. And neither had his son.
“It’s all over now,” Laney said after the doctor was gone.
“It never should have started.”
“Stop,” she said quickly. “It isn’t your fault. I read the file you have on Jean.”
“Kid had problems, sure, but his dad was handling it.”
“His dad was hiding it. Jean was a walking time bomb for this sort of thing.”
I sighed. I knew she was right, but still some part of me blamed myself for all the hurt that I’d caused.
“Stop blaming yourself,” she said softly, whispering in my ear. “You saved lives. You didn’t take any.”
I grunted. “Fine.”
“Plus,” she said, smiling wickedly, “you’re much sexier when you’re confident.”
I laughed and reached around her to grab her ass. “Even with a knife wound, I’m still the sexiest man you know.”
“I can’t deny it.”
“Damn right.”
She leaned over and kissed me on the lips.
It really was over. Laney was safe and Jean was dead. No more women had to die because of some sick fuck’s revenge.
His totally misguided revenge. He never did find out that I wasn’t the cause of his father’s death, even though I blamed myself.
Didn’t matter anymore. Really never did matter. It happened and I had tried to make it right. Maybe I did, in some small way.
Maybe I could start to move on, forgive myself.
With Laney’s help, anything seemed possible.
29
Laney
Months later
“How’s it going, college girl?”
I smiled at Easton as I walked into our apartment. Really, it was more like his office. We’d set it up almost identical to the one back in Mishawaka, with the reception and desk up front and our living space in the back.
“Class was shit,” I said, “but we’re almost done.”
Back in Chicago for my senior year. Because of Easton’s job, I didn’t really have to work to support myself anymore. He was making a killing working as a private eye in the city, way more than he could ever have dreamed.
Maybe “killing” wasn’t the best word to use.
After Easton had gotten out of the hospital, we started figuring out what the hell we meant to each other. I was in love, madly and deeply, but we were still stepsiblings.
Eventually, we had to come out to our parents. They didn’t take it well.
Easton moved back to Chicago with me, started his practice. I hadn’t spoken to my dad since, and Easton was more than glad not to speak to his mother. After everything, he still seemed to hold a grudge.
“Come here,” he said.
I walked over and sat down in his lap. He moved the chair back away from the desk to make room.
“That’s better,” I said. “Catch any bad guys today?”
“Only one pervert today,” he said, grinning. “Do you know what a furry is?”
I made a face. “I do, and I don’t want to hear it.”
“Come on. It involves a wolf and a zebra.”
“No way,” I said, putting my hand over his mouth. “Stop right there.”
He bit me gently and I laughed, pulling my hand back.
“Don’t get me started about this city,” he said. “There’s so much shit.”
“Yeah, but you’re a good thing.”
“I try.”
I kissed him gently on the lips.
Life together was right. It was good. I knew what I wanted and I was making it happen. Easton was teaching me what he knew from the FBI, and sometimes I went out on assignments for his private practice with him. School was going well, and I’d never been happier.
His hands slipped along my body, and I felt that old familiar thrill.
“Easton,” I warned. “I have to study.”
“Study later,” he whispered. “Remember the first time, back in Mishawaka? On my desk?”
I blushed. “How could I forget?”
He stood, lifting me into the air, and placed me back down on the desk. “I was thinking about that earlier.”
He cleared some things off the desk, tossing them onto the ground. He kissed my neck, my lips, and I felt myself melting into him, needing it.
The nightmare was behind us. We were moving on, together.
I let him slide my pants down and pull them off. I let him kiss my thighs, my pussy. I let him taste how soaked I was.
“Been thinking about this taste all day,” he whispered.
“Easton,” I moaned. “I really need to study.”
“You can study soon.” He gently moved my panties aside and began to tongue my clit. “I want to study you first.”
“Shit,” I gasped, realizing he had me.