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“I’ll be back. Perhaps next time, you’ll be doing something more interesting than sleeping.” Unfolding her legs, Tabitha stretched before she slid off the bed. The blade spun in her hand to point at him. “Take care of this one, Zeke. I like her. Chain her to the bed if you have to.”
“Mmm-hmm. Try not to get yourself arrested or dead, Tabitha. We’d miss you.”
Her lethal toy disappeared into some mysterious space at the back of her jeans. Raking a hand through her hair, she shot him a wicked grin. “Damn straight, you would.”
Whistling under her breath, the half-pint assassin ambled from the room.
“She is insane.”
Olivia glanced at her lover . “You think?”
“Certifiable.” Rolling on top of her, he braced his weight on his forearms and stared down into her eyes. “That was a lot of stuff she dumped on you. How are you holdin’ up?”
“I’m not sure my world is on a solid foundation anymore.”
He sighed. “Olivia, you know I’d have taken him apart if he touched you.”
Torn between despising herself for her stupidity and appreciating his support, she lifted her hand to cup his cheek. His beard prickled her palm reassuringly. “You didn’t even know I was in Nevada, Zeke. It’s difficult to rescue an idiot when no one knows she’s gone. If Jared had gotten his hands on me…”
“He didn’t. He won’t.” Zeke bent and kissed the corners of her mouth. “The assassin with a screw loose put him down like the sick mutt he was. He got everything he deserved, Livvy. It doesn’t bring back any of his victims or negate whatever they went through, but he got some of it given back. Knowin’ Tabitha’s methods, he was regrettin’ every damn day of the last twenty years of his life when he died.”
“But the girls…”
“The girls are not your responsibility,” he said sternly, his eyes darkening. “Jared’s actions were not yours. What he did does not reflect on you. The weight of his choices and his deeds are not yours to bear.” His voice took on an ominous tone. “It’s okay to grieve for them, Olivia, but I’ll be damned if you shoulder the guilt for his sins.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath. He was right; they both knew it. That didn’t mean her heart wasn’t aching with that guilt and sense of… God, she had no words for the emotions strangling her.
“I want to go to the…” Her throat closed. “Funerals.”
Zeke’s hum of sympathy caressed her fragile nerves. “That might be distressing for the families, angel. If they know who you are, how you were connected to Jared—however innocently—they might not be welcoming.” He wasn’t drawling anymore, which told her he was serious. “Grief isn’t always tears and depression, Olivia. It manifests into anger, rage, a need to cast blame. This mess isn’t your fault, but that won’t stop people from greeting you with hostility.”
When she dared to look at him again, his face was set in concerned lines. “I know.”
“God, you rip my heart out when you’re sad,” he muttered. “All right, let me pull Atticus in on this. Once the families have been notified, we’ll put some feelers out and see if any of them would be receptive to your presence. We’re not going to fuckin’ Nevada for mourning families to take their fury out on you. No arguments.”
Her arms curled around his neck, holding on tight. “I don’t want to argue, Zeke.”
“Good. What do you say we have a lazy morning, maybe make love if your pretty pussy is agreeable, and when you feel up to it, we go visit Connie for an informal chat between friends?”
“That’s your subtle way of telling me I need to see a shrink now that my stepfather turned out to be a homicidal pervert?”
“That’s me tellin’ you that you’re not alone anymore, Olivia. No matter what, you’ve always got me at your back, but it’s about time you learn that you still have a family to lean on.” He kissed her cheek, his lips stopping the tear sliding down the side. “A whole flock of annoyin’, chatterin’ people who love you as much as I do.”
“Is this real?”
“’Bout as real as it gets, Livvy. Seems like we’ve got a long haul ahead of us, with one thing or another, but I’m in for the duration. I love you, Olivia.”
She thought of everything she’d written in that letter two years ago. Back then, it felt as though she’d inked her heart onto the paper. Now, she realized that however much she’d loved him then, she’d only scribed a fraction of her love down in words.
The rest of it was right here, bursting at the seams with what she felt for him.
“Ready to ride this out with me, angel? My life, yours, in tandem?”
Before she kissed him as though the world was ending around them, she muttered two words.
“Yes, Sir.”
Epilogue
