by Myers, K. L.
I make a promise to his lifeless body that I will take his son with me and give him a good life.
“I’m sorry about your wife.”
Her voice doesn’t come out much louder than mine did, but it strikes a blow to my heart. She’s sorry about my wife. I look at her, ready to tell her I know how she feels, but then I see it. Pity. It’s not what I want or need from her, and seeing her sad for me makes me want to lash out at her, but I control myself. I don’t need a repeat of last night.
“Thank you.”
Willow nods and looks to the table before bringing her eyes back to mine and asking, “Do you miss her?”
Do I miss her? What a loaded question. I miss her so much I kill people to fill the emptiness. I miss her so much that breathing is a chore. Sitting here with her feels like a betrayal of the love I shared with my wife. Living while she died hurts in ways I can’t explain.
Do I tell her about my pain?
How I wish to die every day just to see Emery’s smile again. How much do I want to share with this woman? I contemplate that thought while staring at Willow dressed in the emerald sweater I had purchased specifically with Emery in mind. God, she is so beautiful, almost as perfect as my wife.
“Every day,” I admit, shocking myself at the honesty I’m willing to show her.
“I miss Abe too.”
“I know you do.”
This pain we feel, Willow and I, it’s not something you just get over. It's a journey, a new beginning to an old ending that keeps playing over and over in a time loop. Brief moments of a potential for happiness, but then the bitter cold of reality sets in. It’s why I’m meant to end her world, and she’s meant to save mine.
“Why am I here? And why doesn’t anyone know you’re alive?” Emery’s words leave her lips as a quiet question but reach my ears as if she screamed them.
Once again, I’m plagued with how much information I should share with her. “I prefer it this way. I don’t need the sorrow or the patronizing apologies from everyone who feels they knew us.”
“Understandable,” she says, nodding her head, her brown waves dropping over her shoulder. “But what about me? What am I doing here?”
I don’t answer her. I know what she wants to hear. That I’ll kill her. The question is, can I take her life? And if I don’t, will she hate me? Not just for letting her live but for who I have become.
I shrug and continue like she hasn’t spoken. “Besides, the anonymity lets me do the things I need without scrutiny from those who would never understand.” Go on, Willow. Take the bait.
She takes the crumb I’ve fed and runs with it just as I hoped she would. “Why would you need anonymity? I would think you would want everyone to know you survived that horrible event.”
Tell her, Brecken. If she doesn’t run, she may be worth saving.
“Retribution,” I burst out, causing Willow to sit back in her chair a bit straighter. “At least that’s how it all started. I thought avenging my wife’s death would fill the emptiness I felt, but it didn’t. So, I tried retaliation for those who have been wronged, but that didn’t make me feel whole either.”
“Why would you need to avenge your wife?” Her confused green eyes bore into my soul, and I decide to unleash the darkness burdening me.
“She was murdered.”
“No,” she gasps. “But that was never reported.”
“Just as it was never reported my body was not recovered from the scene. A very rich man was behind her death. Would have been behind mine if I hadn’t survived.”
“Did you kill him?” she whispers.
“Yes.” There’s no time for babying her. I need to know if she’s what I’ve been looking for.
“Have you killed others?”
“Yes.”
Willow’s eyes don’t leave mine as she processes my answers. I’m impressed she hasn’t run yet. Impressed and turned on. I’m not sure why this woman keeps having this effect on me, but I can’t deny that it’s happening.
“How many?”
I didn’t expect this question, but I’m glad she’s asked. She needs to know exactly who she’s dealing with. What she’s dealing with.
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” Her voice rises a couple octaves, showing her shock and possibly fear and disgust. My heart pings inside my chest, reminding me I’m still capable of being hurt. I don’t like that she has the capability of hurting me.
I don’t like that she may fear me. Even if she should.
“I needed to do what I did. I was empty, broken without Emery. So, you see, Willow, I do understand what you’re feeling. The emptiness. The absolute hopelessness because half of your heart is gone.”
Willow pushes back from her chair and walks to me, kneeling at my side. She grabs my hand, and her eyes widen as she pleads, “Kill me, please. It may take care of the emptiness you feel.”
“I had intended to do just that, but now I see there is a fire still burning inside of you. You aren't as broken as you think you are. Bending your will until you break brings me no joy. In fact, it’s just the opposite. It would destroy me even more.”
“Please,” she begs.
I jump up, causing my chair to crash to the ground, and break free of Willow’s grasp. In the same motion, I reach down, grabbing around her waist, and pull her to her feet. As I hold her at arm's length, I growl out, “I kill people, Willow. People who deserve to die. Do you understand now?”
Fear fills her eyes, and her body begins to shake beneath my fingers, the need to run wafting off her. She’s finally realizing she’s been captured by a monster, and her fear lingers in the air around us. Opening and closing, her lips move, searching for words that escape her.
I laugh, despite the devastation threatening to swallow me whole. I forced her to see me for who I am but prayed she would see past it.
She doesn’t.
10
The Truth Revealed
Willow
Brecken is a murderer.
Somewhere in my mind, I knew that. He was willing to release me from my misery, so he had to have that experience, but in my naïveté, I wanted to believe I was his first. I romanticized it—my death—because the novelist in me would have it no other way.
Now, his confession is hanging in the air, his hands still linger around my waist, and I don’t run.
Shouldn’t I?
I’m afraid. I’m scared shitless, but I can’t move. All I can do is focus on his blue eyes and the pain pouring out of them. This man is more broken than I am.
That’s why he can’t see the truth about me. I have fight in me, but it’s not what he thinks. I won’t allow anyone to push me around, but it’s not because I want to live. I’m simply stubborn.
Maybe I need to bend a little. Not for myself but for this man whose eyes are begging me to understand. And I do. Not so much taking someone else’s life but being so broken you feel like you’ll never be pieced back together. When all you can do is focus on breathing because everything else hurts too much, and even that one simple task feels like too much. So, even though I don’t understand all his actions, I understand his pain.
And I want to take it away.
Without thought, I fall forward and wrap my arms around his neck. His body goes stiff beneath me, but I don’t let go. Brecken may not realize it, but he needs comfort. He needs someone to show him he can be vulnerable.
I’m about to let go when his arms snake around my back and pull me tight to him. A sigh releases from his lips, and his breath tickles the top of my ear, bringing a smile to my face. He buries his face in my hair, and his hands begin making a circular motion on my back. I should step away, but it feels nice.
I guess I need comfort too.
We stay locked in each other’s arms, no words being said, for what seems like forever, just soaking in the knowledge that we’re both shells of the people we used to be. Our hearts have been destroyed, and we’ll never be whole again, but right now, in this
moment, we’re holding each other together. We’re two strangers, giving the other what we need most... understanding.
On a deep inhale, Brecken’s fingers press deeper into my back, massaging the tension in my muscles. I let out a moan and lean further into him, our heads still against each other as his fingers work their magic. Higher they climb until they’re tangled in my hair, and with a quick tug, he pulls my face back.
Our eyes lock, and there’s a fire burning so deep in his, I feel the heat. My stomach warms, and I clench my thighs as need builds. There’s no time to process the feelings that have taken over my body as Brecken slams his lips into mine.
A shiver runs up my spine as a groan escapes him. He grips my head tighter and demands entrance to my mouth, his tongue licking across my lips. I open, and he takes over, devouring me like I’m the very air he needs to breathe.
He’s not Abe.
The thought paralyzes me, but Brecken doesn’t stop. So wrapped up in his need, he doesn’t realize he’s stepped over a line. I offered him comfort, and he reciprocated with this.
Ripping away from him, I take a small step back as he reaches for me, and I slap him with all the force I can muster. Shock crosses his face as his fingers go to his cheek.
“You had no right,” I seethe at him.
He smirks at me, only adding to my anger. “I didn’t put your tongue in my mouth, Willow.”
Heat creeps to my cheeks at his words. I might have had a momentary lapse of judgement, but it was brought on by his brazen behavior. I was trying to be a light spot in his darkness—even if only for a few seconds. He took advantage of my kindness.
Never again.
“Don’t ever touch me again. Do you understand me?”
Brecken tilts his head as if he’s observing me and then laughs. All out laughs like I’m being ridiculous. I want to slap him again.
“What the fuck is so funny?”
“Such a firecracker. Too bad you can’t get what you want unless I touch you.”
Without another word, Brecken walks away. I watch him leave, but then his words catch up to me, and I chase after him. He will do what he promised.
Brecken walks into a room and closes the door. I slam into the door, attempting to open it, but it’s locked. “Let me in, damn it.” Silence greets me, but I keep pounding, not willing to give up.
My fists are red, and I’m afraid I’m going to break my hands after several minutes. My voice is hoarse, and still, Brecken has not responded. He’s on the other side of this door tormenting me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Fuck you, Brecken Wade,” I yell, storming back to the dining room.
“Jamal, can I have breakfast, please?” I ask, hoping he’ll hear me. I really need the chocolate chips in those pancakes now. Today is going to be a day of stress eating.
I wonder what else Jamal can cook for me.
11
Damn Woman
Brecken
When the pounding finally stops, I sigh, relief flowing through me. I was so close to flying through the door and showing her the monster others fear. Who the hell does she think she is demanding anything from me?
I’m trying to save her.
Why can’t she see that?
As her voice rings out, calling to Jamal for breakfast, I chuckle despite my anger. She has no idea the force of nature she is, but I will show her. I will break through that wall she has up until she has no choice but to see the woman she’s hiding from the world.
Maybe she needs to meet the monster.
How will she react to him? Will she scream? Will she cry? Or will she be excited? Every time I think I have a read on her, she surprises me. Willow Summers is not some broken pushover as I thought she was. She’s also not ready to die like she believes.
I’m not sure I can take her life, but I sure as hell can show her it’s worth fighting for. She may hate me by the time the lesson is learned, but damn it, she needs to know she belongs here. That we’re all better because she’s walking this earth.
The world needs her beauty. I need her beauty.
I shiver at the thought. It scares me. Only one woman has ever moved me, and now I’m betraying her. Every sideways glance, every arousal, and each time I admit how attractive she is, is a punch to the gut. I set out on this journey to avenge Emery—to find redemption for not saving her—and now, I’m confused.
Willow has messed up everything.
Before her, the path was clear. Kill the bad guys and fill the hole in my heart left by Emery’s death. I should have stuck to it. There are thousands who deserve the wrath I can administer. So many who are never brought to justice.
Why did I believe releasing her damaged soul would save mine?
“Sir,” Jamal calls through the door, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Yes, Jamal,” I answer, making no move to answer the door. I’m tired. Dealing with Willow’s moods is draining me.
“Would you like me to make you breakfast?”
“Yes, please.”
His footsteps get quieter as he walks away. I don’t know what I would do without Jamal most days. He keeps me grounded, mostly, reminding me to think before I act, running errands to keep me out of the public eye, and keeping me fed.
I just wish he’d stop calling me sir.
We’re friends. Equals. Neither of us would have survived on the island without each other. My money paid to get us back to the sanctuary, but Jamal kept me focused enough to get back here. He forced me to take the time to get better and not run off like a rabid animal after those who had wronged us.
He wanted revenge too.
He deserved it.
Sebastian Locke didn’t just kill my wife. He killed Jamal’s family. His parents, sister, two aunts and uncles, and six cousins. Running the island was a family business, and they lost their lives because Sebastian hated me.
It’s a guilt I carry with me every day.
Sebastian and I were competitors in the corporate world. Our animosity for one another should have remained in the boardroom, but youth is a messy thing. Unfortunately, thinking with my brain was not always my strongest attribute.
Using my dick in those days was.
Sleeping with Amber Black proved to be the worst mistake of my life. She and Sebastian dated on and off. To avoid complications with Sebastian, she should have been off limits, but she was hot, and my twenty-two-year-old brain only cared about that. Actually, my dick only cared about that.
One night with her ruined my entire life. She used me to get back at Sebastian for taking another girl on a date. She wanted him to be as hurt as she was. Obviously, he was, and he never got over it.
For years, we fought over the same clients, each of us trying to out-negotiate the other. Millions of dollars were won or lost during contract negotiation, and more times than not, I won. No one was as cool under pressure as I was. Sebastian was pushy, demanding at times, and that’s what set us apart. Never let your client think that you need their contract. Act like you could take it or leave it. For me that was easy; my fortune wasn’t reliant on client contracts like Sebastian's was, and his desperation would show when he knew he was on the verge of losing.
I got the last laugh, though. The look on Sebastian’s face when he realized I was alive, that I was going to kill him and that he didn’t win, it was everything. All his smugness disappeared. It was replaced with fear and defeat.
I nearly orgasmed from excitement. Victory was mine.
It was a short-lived euphoria. The hole in my heart was still gaping. It still is. No amount of killing has closed it. I’m still a shell, a fragile shell, full of cracks, about to shatter at any moment. I can’t seem to find redemption, no matter how many lives I take. Maybe I need to stop killing. Maybe saving Willow will release me from this hell, or maybe, just maybe, it will turn me into more of a monster.
Pushing away from my desk, I walk out of my office and stalk toward the dining room. Willow’s eyes find mine as soon
as I enter the room, her fork stopping midway to her lips.
I’m paralyzed too, taken aback at how adorable she is with her chocolate chip pancakes loaded with maple syrup and whipped cream. A smidge of cream sits on the side of her mouth, and I fight the urge to run my thumb across her lips and clean it off. To lick it off and gain access to her once again.
“How nice of you to join me,” she barks.
I laugh despite the guilt eating at me for yet again feeling attracted to her. This damn woman and her sass. She has no idea what it does to me. What it makes me want to do to her.
Before she can say another word or bitch at me about laughing at her, Jamal walks in with my breakfast. He places the pancakes and a steaming cup of black coffee in front of me. It smells divine.
“Thank you, Jamal. Please join us.”
I don’t need to look at Willow to know her eyes have widened and she’s gawking at me. She’s pissed at me for walking away earlier, and now for inviting Jamal to eat with us, but I don’t really give a shit. Jamal was here before her, and he’ll be here after she’s gone.
“No, sir. I’ll eat in the other room.”
“I insist.”
He nods as Willow says, “He said he’ll eat in the other room.”
My eyes dart to hers, and she stops whatever she was about to say. She has no right to step in or make Jamal feel like he isn’t welcome. This is his damn home. I will not tolerate her rudeness.
“Please grab your breakfast and join us, Jamal,” I say, never breaking eye contact with Willow. I narrow my eyes, showing her she has overstepped with a simple raise of my brow. Luckily, she’s smart enough to know to keep her mouth shut.
When Jamal joins us, I thank him and begin to eat. As usual, the food is fantastic. It’s too bad the tension at the table is spoiling the joy of the chocolate melting on my tongue. I need to deal with Willow once and for all.