“I’m fine with that. Just get them. Stop them from killing again.”
“We’re closer thanks to you. This might even lock Ju-Ju up and keep him behind bars. We’ll know more in the morning.”
“What do you think of Miller leaving those photos for us to find means?”
“He has a God complex, much like The Beast. He thinks that he’s untouchable. He’s mocking everyone who thinks they can catch him.”
“That’s good news,” I say.
“How is that good news?”
“Because men like Devin Marks, who believe they’re untouchable, get too confident and make mistakes. And then they crash and burn, or in Miller’s case get arrested.”
“And in Devin Marks case?” she asks.
“You know how he ends. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
I disconnect the call, and just thinking about the moment I get to kill that man makes me ten shades of happy.
Asher and I wake up the next morning to pounding on the door. Both of us throw on sweats and T-shirts to find Royce is our visitor. “Ju-Ju confessed,” he announces.
Asher and I gape.
Royce crowds us and enters the apartment. “I need coffee. Kara and I were at the station all night. I haven’t slept.”
We back up and he heads into the kitchen, where he pops a pod in the pot and turns to face us.
“Did they find evidence to use to get the confession?” Asher asks as he and I sit down at the island across from Royce.
“None.” Royce grabs his cup and takes a sip. “He just buckled under the pressure of six hours in the interrogation room. Apparently, his father used to lock him in the closet.”
“Oh no,” I say, having seen this kind of thing before. “Let’s hope they don’t claim emotional distress to throw out the confession.”
“Even if they do,” Royce says, “he gave up details that will take him down. And get this. He says Miller is dumb as a rock, and nothing more than a retiree on his payroll, who believed he was a photographer.”
“Tech guys are not dumb as rocks,” Asher argues.
“He had a stroke five years back. Ju-Ju claims it affected him. They have an APB out on him but Ju-Ju says he’s on a cruise.”
Alarm radiates though me at the idea that cruises are common ways to escape. I suddenly really want Asher to check on my mother. Royce’s phone buzzes and while he reaches for it Asher leans in and whispers, “I tried to find her and couldn’t,” he says, clearly reading my mind and noticing my reaction. “We’ll have Blake try, too. If we both come up dry, then that’s good news. That means no one else can find her, either.”
I let out a relieved breath and look at him. “Thank you.”
“The wife wants me,” Royce says. “I need to go, but I still have more good news. I heard from my buddy in the FBI that I’ve had helping us with the Marks case. We’re about ten minutes and a week from cornering Devin Marks. Arrests are imminent.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, looking between them.
Royce answers, “Your mentor and your beast have been fingered for insider trading and child pornography. Marks will also be nabbed for knowingly hiding engine flaws in military jets that killed men fighting for this country. And that’s true. Bastard really did that.” He eyes Asher. “Adam was a good find.”
“Adam?” I ask. “Your SEAL buddy?”
“Exactly,” Asher confirms. “His mother is a CIA agent who believes Devin Marks has to be stopped and took action to help us.”
My head is spinning. “What happens next? I stay underground until he’s so buried in jail on these new charges that I’m not at risk any longer?”
“I’m taking extra precautions,” Asher says. “Once he’s arrested, I’ll make a copy of the data you collected. An anonymous source will mail it to his attorney with a promise that if anything happens to you or anyone close to you, that file will be distributed to authorities and sent to all the major publications, thus ending any hope he has of staying out of jail.”
“It’s a good plan,” Royce says, downing the rest of his coffee. “You should talk to Julie, Sierra. The minute that happens, she can file your divorce and take that bastard to the cleaners.”
“I don’t want his money,” I say.
He looks between us. “You two need to learn that it’s better to put the money in the good guy’s hands. Do good with it, but take the damn money.”
There’s a knock on the door, followed by the bell. Royce sets his cup in the sink. Asher frowns and heads for the door. “I need to go,” Royce says, “but,” he reaches in his pocket and sets an envelope in front of me. “Your offer for full-time employment. Two hundred thousand a year plus a bonus.”
I blanch. “What? That is incredibly generous.”
“It’s New York City,” he says. “It’s starting pay in this city, but the bonuses make up for it.”
I laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
“You got the wrong brother on that one. Do you accept?”
“Yes. Yes, I accept.”
He winks. “Good. We’re lucky to have you.”
He heads to the door and I walk that way with him to find Asher has stepped into the hallway. Now I’m frowning and when Royce exits, I follow him to find Asher speaking with his father in the hallway. Royce pats Asher on the back as he passes and suddenly I have Asher’s father staring at me. “Do you have that dress, Kelli? The party is only two weeks away.”
“Goodbye, Father,” Asher says, offering him his back and walking toward me. Without another word he urges me inside and shuts the door.
“You okay?” I ask, as he locks up.
He turns to me and says, “Not yet but I will be.” He picks me up and starts carrying me toward the bedroom. Once we’re there, he settles me on the mattress and comes down on top of me. “Sierra, not Kelli. And your last name will not be Marks for long.” He kisses me and that anger I’d tasted before in him is back, a dark, jagged edge that two people seem to bring out in him: his father and Devin Marks.
The next morning, Asher’s stormy mood has passed, and I celebrate the demise of a serial killer and the future demise of The Beast with donuts, but only after we jog to earn the junk food. We run by the firing range again and I’m pretty darn happy with how well I’ve progressed. We arrive at the apartment to shower and change to find several packages at our door. Asher grabs the card and reads it out loud, “For: Kelli, From: Asher’s beloved father.” He crumples the note.
“It’s going to be dresses,” he says. “Do you want them?”
“No,” I say. “Of course not, but make sure that’s what it is.”
He lifts his face skyward and huffs out a breath before opening the door and then picking the boxes up. He enters the apartment and sets them on the island before walking to the living area where he sits on the ottoman of a chair. I open the first box, and Asher is right. It’s a dress. I shut it and open the second box. And of course, it’s another dress, but inside is also a copy of the invitation which features former Navy SEAL Asher Montgomery, who will be honoring the wounded warriors of the armed services.
I pick up the invitation and join Asher, sitting next to him. “There was this inside.” I hand him the invitation.
“That bastard. No. He’s a little bitch.”
His phone rings and he pulls it from his pocket. “Royce.” He answers the line and almost immediately hangs up, to reach for the remote. The television comes to life where it hangs in the center of the wall and I gasp to find The Beast on the screen. Not just on the screen. He’s cuffed and being walked to a police car. I hold my hands to my face and laugh, though I think I might cry. I’m a ball of emotions. “I can’t believe it’s real.”
Asher goes down on one knee in front of me. “Are you happy?”
“Yes. So happy.” I cup his face. “You did this. You. All of you, but it’s because of you.”
“Now you can go to this damn party with me as Sierra, not Kelli, but I’m buying
your damn dress.”
“I will go anywhere with you. I will—” He kisses me and then pulls me to my feet. “Let’s go see Julie and get a damn divorce.”
“Don’t we need to wait until you mail the documents to his attorney?”
“Call me impatient,” he says. “But I want you to talk to Julie today.” He molds me close, his hands on my lower back. “You’re mine now.”
“And you’re mine?”
“Why did that sound like a question? I’ve been yours since the first time you called me an asshole.” He laces his fingers with mine. “Let’s go see Julie.”
“What about the FBI and me avoiding the offices?”
“We’ll go in through the garage, but you’re starting that divorce today.”
I don’t argue. He’d once told me he’d give me my freedom to choose. And I want him to know that I choose him, and nothing, and no one, is going to change that, now or ever.
The Friday of the party, two weeks after Devin’s arrest, Asher is at the office, and I’m panicking over a dress. I hate everything I bought, which was four dresses I now need to take back. I’m standing in the closet about to try them on again when the doorbell rings. I hurry downstairs and look through the peephole to find Julie.
I open the door and she holds up clothing bags. “I understand you have a dress crisis. I brought you a couple of my favorites.”
“Luke told you,” I say, backing up so she can enter.
“Yes. Luke told me.” She walks to the island and sets the garment bag over the back of a stool. “Hopefully one of those work.”
“Thank you. I’m going to go try them.”
“Wait. Divorce talk first.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. I was in conversations with your ex’s attorney this afternoon.” Conversations that were cleared after we determined he is being held with no bail. Also, Asher mailed my files to Devin’s criminal attorney, and he included a note: Tell Devin Marks to remember Mali, which was an obvious threat to kill him.
“Is there a problem? Of course there is. It’s Devin Marks.”
“He offered you five million to settle. I told him that’s not enough.”
“I don’t want his money,” I say. “Just make the divorce happen.”
“You’re taking the money,” she says. “Donate it to starving children if you want, but don’t leave it with that monster. And furthermore, he’s a billionaire and you didn’t sign a prenup. Considering who he is and how he behaves, you’ll get more than five million. Go try on the dresses and if they don’t work, I can go raid my closet again.”
The door opens, and Asher walks in with a garment bag in his hand. Julie glances my direction. “That’s my cue to leave. Have fun tonight. We’ll work out the money stuff next week.” She heads to the door, and Asher stops in front of me, giving me a quick kiss. “What did she mean? The money stuff?”
“She wants Devin to pay me. I said no. She ignored me.”
“Do you want the money?”
“No, but she told me donate it to a charity, and I could do that.” I wave it off. “Is that your suit for tonight?”
“No. This is a dress I picked out for you. You may hate it, but I was walking by a window and it just looked like you to me.”
I wait to feel uncomfortable, the way I had with Devin, but I don’t. “I’m eager to see it.” I indicate the other bags on the stool. “Those are from Julie.”
“Surely you can find one you like between all of these,” he says, grabbing all of the bags. “Right?”
I laugh as we start walking upstairs. “Right. Surely.”
“No ‘surely,’” he says.
“A dress is not an easy choice.”
“Holy fuck, I’m glad I’m a man.”
He sets the bags on the bed and kisses me. “I’m going to shower.”
He walks away, and I open the only bag that matters. The one from him. The minute I bring it into view, I smile. It’s a rich navy blue that is velvet with a hint of shine and figure-hugging, but in a classy way. And the neckline: Turtleneck with open shoulders to contrast. I try it on and I love it so very much. I take it back off and walk into the bathroom, where Asher is getting out of the shower and walking into the closet. I quickly touch-up my make-up and hair, and then put on the dress, which I’ve paired with black closed-toe heels with ribbon ties around the ankles.
Asher walks out of the bathroom in a dark gray suit, with a gray silk tie, just a hint of his colorful tats showing above his watch, and my jaw drops. “Wow. You look stunning.”
“You like me better like this?” he asks.
“No. I like you better the other way, the real way, but it’s hot. You’re always hot.”
He saunters toward me and stops, his hands on my waist. “You look beautiful. Just like I knew you would.”
“I know why you picked this neckline.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“The story, Asher.”
He links our fingers and walks me back into the bathroom and has me face the sink. “Close your eyes,” he says, stepping behind me.
I do as he orders, and he slips a necklace around me, which sets off butterflies in my belly.
“Open your eyes,” he says now.
I blink and bring the most stunning platinum marquis necklace into view with three tiers of flowers. It glistens in the lights, catching different colors, a perfect complement to the dress and neckline.
“That’s why I picked the neckline.” His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Because I don’t want to tell people you’re available. I want to tell them you’re taken.” He lowers his lips to my ear. “I love you.”
My heart squeezes and I rotate to face him. “I love you, too.”
“Good. Because I’m going to need a lot of love to get through this shit tonight.”
“And sex?” I tease, since he’d once made a similar joke to me.
“Oh yeah. Lots of sex. Creative sex. Tie you up and have my way with you sex.” He turns me to the door, hands on my shoulders from behind. “Let’s go to the party so we can get back and do those things.”
I start walking and once I hit the stairs, he follows. “Adding to the list,” he says from behind me. “I might have to spank you for making me look at your ass in that dress all night, because it’s perfect.”
“Don’t look,” I say, stopping at the bottom of the steps as he joins me.
He stops in front of me. “You can’t look this beautiful and expect me not to look.” He kisses my hand and settles it at his elbow, before facing forward. “Shall we, my beautiful woman?” he asks all proper and debonair.
“Yes, we shall, my arrogant, alpha hero.”
He gives me a devastatingly sexy smile and we are on our way, but as we’re about to step into the elevator, I tug Asher to a halt. “Am I Sierra tonight?”
He catches the elevator doors. “Yes, and every night.”
“How do we explain Kelli?”
“An undercover operation we weren’t willing to pierce for him.”
“Are we good?” he asks.
“Yes. We’re very good.”
He smiles and we enter the car.
We arrive at the hotel by way of a driver and present our invitation. We’re directed to a bank of elevators and we head upstairs, along with a cluster of people and an elf. Asher and I end up crushed against the wall and he smiles. “Why are you smiling?” I mouth.
He leans down and whispers, “Aside from the fact that you’re pressed against me, this is not the way my father would want his event to go down.”
The elevator dings and we exit as a hoard of people try to enter. Once we’re out of the car there is another cluster of too many people all along our upcoming path, including a half dozen elves. Asher laughs again. “I love this.”
“You’re evil,” I say as we walk toward our event location.
“Is that a problem?”
“Maybe.”
His cellphone rings and he pul
ls it from his pocket to frown. “Royce. He knows we’re here. I need to take this.” He punches the Answer button. “What? When? Are you sure? Right… Yeah… Get me back up.” He ends the call.
“What just happened?”
He snags my hand and walks me toward a wall, out of the hustle of people and elves. “Everything is fine.”
“No. No it’s not because I know you. What is going on?”
“They let The Beast out.”
“What?” My heart starts to race. “When?”
“Yesterday and it was kept under wraps, but the good news is that we have confirmation that he fled the country. Even his attorney says that he’s in Switzerland, where they’re unlikely to extradite.”
“I don’t believe his attorney or anyone who works with him or for him. And you don’t either, or you wouldn’t have asked for back-up.”
“He would be a fool to come after you, Sierra.”
“Or arrogant enough to think he can get away with it. And he is that arrogant.”
“Let me rephrase. If he’s that stupid, he’ll die. End of story. It’s my end game for him anyway. I’m armed. You’re armed. He will regret it. He will die.”
“I’m armed.” I pat the sparkly purse at my hip. “I chose it to fit my weapon.”
“Good. And you know how to handle it now. Remember—”
“Shoot to kill.”
“Asher!”
He grimaces. “That would be my father.” He offers me his arm.
I inhale and accept it before forcing a smile. His father steps in front of us, and in a dark blue suit and his graying hair, he looks elegant and arrogant, much like The Beast. He proves the similarities by looking Asher up and down and saying, “If you’d cut that hair, you’d clean up nicely, despite those tattoos.”
“Then someone might think I’m like you, Father. And I’m actually not the nice one. You don’t realize that and I promise you, you hope you never do.”
His father arches a brow. “Is that some sort of threat?”
“An observation,” Asher says.
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