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Under the hot water stream, we kiss and kiss and kiss.
I don’t think about my shop while we do. Don’t think about secrets or half-truths.
I think about love and connection and fate.
I think about us until my brain is mush and I can’t think of anything anymore.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Killian
“We’re five minutes away.” Carter’s eyes are on the touchscreen of my Bentley. “Turn right at the next corner.”
“I see where we are just fine, Carter.” I regret my outburst as soon as the words leave my mouth.
We’ve been driving past Central Park, luxury stores, the American Museum of Natural History. The Upper West Side of Manhattan is beautiful. The greenery and townhouses have a calming effect on my soul. It’s clean, neat, organized.
Amara’s parents don’t deserve to live in this beautiful, peaceful area. Don’t deserve to smile.
To breathe.
We won’t murder them today. We’ll rob them of their peace, though. Of their sense of security.
Once we’re finished, their lives will be as miserable as they are. They’ll always be on the lookout. Always worry about someone creeping into their penthouse.
They’ll worry every second of every day.
Like Amara worried about her shop and apartment being taken from her. Like she does now.
Carter’s cheerful humming sobers some of my anger. Makes me aware about the fact I’ve been an asshole.
“Sorry, you didn’t deserve that.” My eyes dart between his face, the Glock in his lap and his face again. “I just hate these fuckers.”
“Same. Don’t worry about it.”
I’m packing the same Glock. Fucking hate the thing. Means we’ll be going easy on her parents when I wish we could do worse.
When going face-to-face against someone, I prefer using my fists or letting Carter have at them. Both options are far more effective than guns. Pain, humiliation, and scars last better. It ingrains Carter’s and my faces in their memory and skin.
Not to mention they’re far more satisfying.
But it takes time. And that’s what gets me—we don’t have time for that today. Today, we need fast results. Go in and out undetected and back to our Amara.
We would’ve gone from the hotel to her directly, except then, we wouldn’t have been able to get her this gift.
Some people buy their loved ones a bouquet of flowers. Chocolates. Jewelry.
We’re buying her the building from her parents.
A surprise we’ll present her with at exactly the right moment. Which isn’t today.
The thought of her face when we tell her is a balm to my simmering anger.
A smile teases my lips, and I repeat, “Again, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have lashed out on you.”
“And I said don’t worry about it.” Carter shrugs, relaxing in his seat. “I’m on edge too.”
I chance a glance at him, watching his large hand running through his hair.
