James shoots a glare over my head then his attention is back on face.
His eyes intense and needy as they stare into my eyes. “You love me?”
I nod my head and wince.
“You sure?” James asks, as if he can’t quite believe it.
As if it’s too good to be true.
Willing to do anything for him, even if that means hurting myself to give him what he needs, I croak, “Yes.”
For better or worse, I love this man.
Love him with every little fiber of my being.
James shudders against me and stares down at me with a look of awe and wonder on his face.
Gripping him tighter, the blood on him soaking through the shirt I’m wearing, I scream with my eyes—now kiss me and take me home, you putz.
Epilogue
James
7 Months Later
“You do know, James, you’re starting to breathe a little heavy there,” Jude says with a grunt. “Been skipping your cardio?”
I drop the hands of the fat fucker we’ve been carrying up the warehouse stairs and the man’s head hits the concrete with a loud thump.
“I’m not getting a dad bod, asshole. Quit parroting John,” I growl at Jude then take a deep breath. “This fucker just weighs a ton, literally.”
I’m getting real sick of Johnathan’s little joke. I’ve weighed myself and kept to my workout routine most days of the fucking week.
Jude is just talking shit because he has to carry this fucker’s feet.
It’s not a pretty sight down there. The man’s legs and stomach are completely mangled beyond repair.
He’s still alive, but only barely.
And not for much longer.
This is the last of the cops on the Russian’s payroll.
Given that he’s the only one who has any sniper experience, we think he was probably the one who pulled the trigger on Amy and Michael. Although he firmly denied it during torture and interrogation.
Either way, I’m finally sending my brother a slave in Hell.
Jude smiles at me as he drops the man’s feet and stands up to stretch his body. When he leans to the side, he groans a little.
“Still sore?” I ask, looking at where he keeps his hand. He’s been pretty protective of his right side ever since he was shot down in Louisville.
“It comes and goes,” Jude says with a smirk. “All of you happily married men seem to be losing a step or two.”
Pulling the gun from my hip holster, I aim it at his head. “What was that?”
Jude’s smirk sharpens. “You can’t kill me, I’m the favorite brother. Remember?”
“I’m the real brother,” I smirk right back at him.
“Well, I’ll be. I heard that was finally revealed. It’s taken you two long enough to finally come out,” Jude says as he stretches one more time to work out the kink in his side.
“Finally?” I ask as I holster my gun.
“Yes, I’m surprised it wasn’t brought up sooner,” Jude says and bends down to grab the guy’s feet again.
“You knew?” I ask, and I’m slightly confused about how he knew.
Only Simon was supposed to know about Lucifer and me. Only he was supposed to know our secret.
“The eyes gave it away,” Jude says.
Grabbing the hands of the asshole, I lift and ask, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Yours get that manic glee in them sometimes when you’re killing, like Matthew’s does,” Jude says, and we begin to climb the stairs to the roof once more.
I sigh. He’s probably right.
Matthew and I have always been more alike than I’ve ever wanted to admit.
The shit that happened that day with Sophia at the motel…
At times I felt like I was fucking channeling him.
Channeling a fucking monster we’re both fucking descended from or something.
I’ve killed in rage before. Killed in rage for her.
But that shit…
I’ve never felt anything like it.
And a part of me hopes I never feel it again.
I was a manic mess. That’s the only way to fucking describe it. I was a fucking manic, psychotic, murderous mess for weeks.
I just can’t stand to see my baby in pain.
If she’s in pain… someone has to fucking die.
I can’t even count how many fucking days I ached and longed to kill Dickers, Trent, and Jacob all over again. Kill them and make them suffer every time she winced or flinched.
Thankfully Sophia’s made a complete and full recovery and there’s been no lasting damage. Her throat was bruised and her vocal cords were fucked up for a few weeks, but everything is healed now.
Which is good because we are expecting a baby.
We were wrong about her being pregnant that day, and I fucking hate that she had to suffer needlessly, but she’s good and knocked up now.
She’s knocked up, we’ve built a new house, and everyone’s happy. Mitzy is looking forward to being a big sister and Fluffers is still breathing.
When my world was upended all those months ago in Elim Park, I never imagined fourteen months later I’d be happily married and have a child on the way.
Crazy fucking times. Crazy as can be.
And I’m loving every second of it.
Things have been going good with the big family, too.
We’ve rooted out the Russian’s hold over the cops and most of their business enterprises have gone belly up in Garden City.
Johnathan’s daughter, Rebekah, was born a couple of months ago. And she’s the cream in that motherfucker’s coffee. I’ve never seen a big bad biker crumble to a baby’s cries like he does.
Lily, Meghan, and my sister Meredith are as big as can be, and all the husbands are fucking frazzled.
These days, Sophia’s either trying to crawl into my pants any chance she can get or she’s in the bathroom throwing up. That freaked me out at first, but I’ve thankfully learned since it’s perfectly normal in some women to have that kind of morning sickness.
Pushing my back against the old metal door that opens out onto the roof, I sigh. “Man, I need to get home soon. Sophia’s trying her hand at brownies and I want to make sure I’m there to help her so I still have a kitchen when she’s done.”
“You’re letting her cook again?” Jude chuckles as he shakes his head at me.
He’s not wrong to feel that way. She nearly burned down the new house the first time she tried to cook in our new kitchen. I never knew someone could fuck up eggs and bacon that bad, but leave it to my wife. She can’t cook to save her soul. Not even toast.
“Dude, it’s just brownies in the oven,” I say. “How bad could they be?”
“Wasn’t that what you said about the grilled cheeses? How long were you puking for again?” he asks.
Fuck me. I forgot about that.
Ramming back against the door, I yank on the whimpering sack of shit we’ve been carrying up the stairs and pull Jude right along with him.
Dropping the body on the ground, I rip my phone from my pocket to text Sophia.
Seeing what I’m doing, Jude starts to cackle at me as he continues to pull the guy’s jiggly body across the roof of the warehouse.