His Last Breath

by S. M. Butler

  “Fuck, you could have told me that before,” he said. She giggled but his groan cut it off as she reached between them, pointing his cock right into her. Her body was so incredibly tight as he pressed forward, and it wasn’t completely comfortable for her. He stopped.

  “No, don’t stop.”

  “Just wait,” he said. He rubbed his thumb over her clit, watching her eyes roll back as he rocked back and forth, working himself into her. It took a few minutes for her to adjust but it wasn’t long before he was completely seated inside her.

  So. Tight. His mind was dizzy with the feel of her around him.

  “Yes!” she hissed. “Please.”

  He braced himself over her, his arms on either side of her delicious body as he pulled back and thrust in again. Slow and easy, not wanting to hurt her. God, she was so tight, unbelievably tight. Delicious desire curled around him, sliding through every inch of his body as he thrust into hers.

  They found a rhythm together, moving like one, their moans of pleasure drowning out the slap of their sweaty flesh together. It was like a beautifully constructed symphony as they climbed higher and higher together. He lowered himself to his elbows so he could bury his face in her neck. He lightly bit along her most sensitive spot there as he pumped into her. He wasn’t going to last too much longer and he wanted her to come with him.

  Reaching down between their bodies, he pressed his thumb against her clit again, letting the movement of their bodies control the way he stroked her. It worked, her body tightened, the walls around his cock squeezed him. He needed to see her fly apart again. He kept moving, but he balanced on one elbow so he could see her face. “Open your eyes, Abigail. I need to see them.”

  Her eyes flew open just as her orgasm took hold, and halfway through her scream he thrust hard into her until his release came just as hard as hers did. He collapsed on top of her, his cock still buried inside her as he swept away the sweaty strands of her hair from her face. He buried his nose in her neck, taking in her scent, committing it to memory. He’d never forget her smell, the soft fruity scent of her body and the sweet fragrance of their post-coital passion. While he closed his eyes and reveled in her, he whispered, “I love you.”

  He wasn’t sure if she’d heard him. She let him pull from her body a moment later and as he collapsed beside her, she curled up at his side. He ignored the pulse of pain from his chest, two twin ghosts of those bullets that should have killed him as he wrapped his arms around her soft body.

  If this was all he got from her for the rest of his life, he’d take it. Maybe it was better this way. In a few days, Abigail would be safe and Christopher Hardy would be dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Abigail woke up, delectably sore. They’d made love two more times over the night, before falling asleep, utterly spent in each other’s arms. She’d thought she’d heard him tell her he loved her, and it made what she had to do even harder as she heard the yacht dock beyond their secluded room. She slipped out of the bed and got dressed and slipped her shoes on.

  She took a breath, looking at the sleeping man. He deserved happiness. So much of his life was tied up with saving other people. Her life was going to be complicated for a long time after this. Government proceedings could take years, and the media was going to have a field day with what she released onto the world. There would be nowhere she could go without being tied to the man she thought was her father.

  She sat down on the bed and watched as the man she loved instinctively curled closer to her. She could do this, de-complicate his life at least. His focus was split. She knew he’d do anything for her, and there were so many others that needed him to save them. She wanted to be selfish. She wanted to climb back into bed with him and never leave.

  She ran her hand over his face, his stubble scratching at her palm. He moaned, his voice scratchy and deep, and his hand came up to cover hers. His eyes fluttered open. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she replied back, smiling faintly.

  “I didn’t think you’d be up so early,” he said.

  “Um, I just wanted to get some fresh air. We’re docking soon, and everything is going to change then.”

  “I know,” he replied, his face forlorn and distant. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but maybe he knew just as well as she did that the future didn’t include them together.

  “You saved me again,” she said.

  “Always,” he whispered into her hand, his lips gently kissing her fingers.

  She leaned down and kissed his lips, reveling in his masculine scent and the leftover carnal energy from their night together. Then she broke contact, kissed his forehead and stood up. “I’m going topside for a bit.”

  “I’ll come with,” he said.

  “No, rest. I’ll be back later.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” she lied. She smiled and stood up, heading for the door. As she opened the small door, she glanced back at Chris, who was watching her with something she couldn’t identify in his eyes. Then she shut the door behind her and took the heavy steps up to the top deck.

  When she reached the top, Jack was waiting. His arms were crossed, a heavy expression on his face. “You ready?”

  She nodded. “As much as I can be.”

  “I’ll keep you safe. He’d want that much from me,” Jack said, his eyes looking back at the door she’d come out of.

  “Let’s just go,” she said, more harshly than she’d intended. Her entire being had an edge to it, a jagged, sharp edge she couldn’t smooth away. And she had a feeling it never would go away.

  ~*~*~

  Fear gripped Abigail like someone choked her, her breath catching in her throat. She recognized the man strolling toward her, his steps easy and confident. A gun was in his hand, but instead of pointing it at her, he flipped the safety on and slid it back into the holster he wore over his shoulder.

  His dark eyes glittered in the sunlight. He stopped only a few feet from her. He seemed unsure of himself, like he wanted to reach for her, but wasn’t sure he should.

  Behind her, Jack stood watch, his careful gaze on the entire exchange. She was glad he was here, now that she was standing before her birth father. His presence was soothing, at least as much as him pulsing promises of violence could be.

  Jean Giroux swallowed hard, his expression softening and his voice gentle and uncertain. “Hello, Abigail.”

  “Hello… um, Mr. Giroux.” What the hell should she call him?

  “Jean,” he corrected, his voice breaking as he spoke. “Or Father… I mean, we are family, after all. You used to call me Papa.”

  She let out a shuddered breath. “I don’t remember.”

  He lifted his hand and paused. He met her eyes. “May I?”

  She nodded slowly and his weathered fingers slid down her cheek, reverently. She knew the crimes the man had committed, what he had committed for her. People had died. But standing there with him, he was just a man who had missed his daughter.

  “You look so much like your mother,” he smiled. “The eyes, and that cute chin.”

  She felt the tears come up, hot and unbidden. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “She was your loss too,” he said. “I know you don’t know me. You know of me.”

  “I don’t remember… her, or you.”

  “I know. It’ll come back. It will.”

  “Jean.” She drew in an uneasy breath. “I’m not just here because I wanted to see you. I’m also here because you have to stop. You can’t keep going after Senator Lewis.”

  Giroux’s face hardened. “I will not let that man pass without punishment. And I find it difficult to believe that you would. He held you, prisoner, all your life. He killed your mother. My wife.”

  “I know. Let the government do it. I have proof of everything he did, to me, to you. I will handle it.”

  “You’re just a child. This is for grownups to decide.”

  “I’m not a child anymore,” she replied. “I
can’t let you kill innocent people while you try to go after him.”

  “And I cannot let this pass!” He roared, stepping back from her.

  She flinched and she felt Jack move behind her. She glanced back at him, silently asking him to stay where he was. He narrowed his eyes, his hand on his gun, but he stayed. She turned back to Jean. “I came here out of respect for the father I never knew and would like to. But if you go after him, I will have to stop you.”

  Giroux smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Many have tried to stop me.”

  “None of them was your daughter,” she replied, sounding far more confident than she felt. “Give me time.”

  “Time is something we don’t have,” he said. “I’ve waited two decades to repay him.” He smiled hard and cold. “Stand with me, my love. Stand with your family.”

  Suddenly, all Abigail could think of was Chris’s soft touch as he kissed her fingers that last morning they’d been together, and Jack standing behind her, protecting her. Jordan’s stupid pick up at the bar, and Bea’s bravery, telling her to leave when it was certain they might both die.

  Family? The man before her might share her blood, but he wasn’t her family. Her family was a bit more fucked up, including men that made mistakes in their lives, a woman that was scarier than the devil himself, and maybe they all worked for that devil. She wasn’t sure. But she knew where she wanted to be, and she knew what she needed to do to get there.

  “I am standing with my family,” she said. “If you will not stop hurting people to get at Daniel Lewis, then I have no choice but to stop you myself.”

  “Abigail, love, come with me,” he said, holding out his hand to her. She glanced down at it. A stranger’s hand. Rough with calluses. Some similarities between his and hers, but in the end, it wasn’t where she wanted to go.

  She stepped back, closer to Jack. Giroux’s face changed, lost the love she’d thought she’d seen, and a monster replaced it. Maybe the monster had always been there. She wasn’t sure. Maybe the love was the mask.

  “Come here, Abigail,” the voice coming from the mask was stronger, firmer.

  She shook her head. “I’m walking away. I can’t be part of revenge that gets innocent people killed.”

  Anger clouded over his face and he drew a gun from his jacket pocket as she stepped back into Jack’s arms. But before Jack could pull out his weapon, a red dot appeared on Giroux’s chest, and then two loud cracks broke through the air. Abigail screamed, drawing a scared breath as Jack held her back.

  Giroux’s face turned surprised as he saw the two holes in his chest and then crumbled to the ground. Abigail covered her mouth, trying to regain control over her rapid breathing. Panic pumped its way through her bloodstream. “Is he… you…”

  A painful sob burst out of her.

  “It’s okay,” Jack murmured as he practically held her up on her feet. “You got what you needed, right?”

  She let out an anguished cry, tears falling freely. “I didn’t… I mean…”

  “He wouldn’t have given up. Not for anything. And more people would have died,” Jack said. “Trust me. It’s better this way. If there’s anything I know, it’s the Giroux family.”

  She let him lead her away, back to the car. She felt numb. This wasn’t what she thought would happen when she confronted her real father. She slipped into the back seat with Jack and glanced up at the driver. “Who’s he?”

  “A Ghost,” Jack replied.

  “Right,” she said. Ghosts. The ones that cleaned up messes for the Reapers. Like the one that just happened. She looked at Jack. “It’s weird.”

  “What?”

  “I was taken away from the Giroux family, and you were forced into it.” She’d read up on Jack Allen during the flight to France. Sierra had been more than happy to provide her with the files on every one of the Reapers. Somehow, she knew Nathan had wanted her to see them. “Do you miss her? Your daughter?”

  His entire body clamped tight at the mention of his daughter. He swallowed hard. “Every day. Every hour. Every second.” He sighed. “She’s better where she is. Happy. Free of me and the nightmares I brought to her door.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “After today? Watching you with him? Absolutely,” he said. “I made the right choice. I keep the monsters away from her and that includes me.”

  She nodded, though she didn’t know what she was nodding for. “It was always about killing Giroux, wasn’t it? You couldn’t kill him while Lewis was free. And Giroux was careful. He’d never have stepped out into the light unless it was for me.”

  “Yes,” Jack replied evenly.

  “Who took the shot?” She already knew the answer. She just needed to hear it.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bea is still laid up. So Hardy took the shot.”

  Chris got his revenge. She smiled.

  “Good,” she whispered and leaned back in the seat. Jack gave her a curious look but didn’t say anything else. Instead, they rode in silence all the way to the airport where they took a chartered flight back to the States.

  Chapter Thirty

  Chris sat in Sally’s Saloon, the one bar in Jubilee, Texas, watching the news. He was supposed to be laying low since his name was in the investigation concerning Senator Lewis, but so far, not even his picture had made it on the news. The only thing they’d said was a former SEAL lost his life, saving Abigail Lewis from certain death at the hands of her father. She’d protected him.

  He downed another shot and pushed the glass away. There were only a couple people in the bar. It was the middle of the day, so most people were working. He should have been too, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move off the stool.

  “You were always a moody little bitch,” the feminine voice behind him said.

  He turned around to see Addison standing there with her arms crossed. “Addy? What are you doing here?” Chris’s panic flared. He’d put Murphy on a flight home with instructions to tell Addison goodbye for him after the mission was over. He’d done what Nathan wanted. He’d finally killed Christopher Hardy.

  “Some guy named Nathan put me on a super secret jet plane and flew me out here to talk to you.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I thought it was weird too, but we had a nice chat on the plane, and we’ve come to an agreement, I think.”

  Chris stared at Addy as she sat down on the stool next to him and took the shot the bartender had just dropped there for him. She swallowed it in one gulp and pushed the glass away the same way he had a moment earlier.

  “I understand that you’re supposed to be dead,” she said. “And as far as anyone else besides me and Murphy knows, you are. Including Mom and Dad.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “That’s because I’ve always been the smarter twin,” she replied. “You work best with something to live for, and your buddy Nathan—”

  “Not my buddy.”

  “Whatever. He didn’t realize that until he’d taken everything from you. So he came to me.” She sighed. “I still think it’s too dangerous. As a SEAL, you had backup, you had people to pull you out when you were on the brink of death. You were never truly alone. With these people… it’s just you and them. There’s no backup. If something happens to you—” She stopped, her voice getting weak with the tears she held back. “Let’s just say, you wouldn’t be able to come back from death again.”

  “Addy—”

  “Just wait. I’m talking.” He blinked as she snapped out the words. “But you’re helping people in this work you’re doing, and I know that it’s always been what you were meant for. You helped me when I needed it, you helped Abigail when she needed it.”

  His heart constricted at the sound of Abigail’s name. Even after three months, losing her hurt as much as it did that first day when she leaned over and kissed him goodbye. She hadn’t said the words, but there was a finality in her ki
ss. She knew it was the end.

  “It’s what you do. And you should keep doing it.”

  “So…”

  “So nothing. To the world, Christopher Hardy is dead and he died saving a woman he loved. But to me, my brother is alive and well. That’s all.”

  Chris glanced back at the door where Nathan stood, dressed back in his flannel shirt and hole-riddled jeans. He nodded, smiling just a tad, the first genuine smile he’d seen on the man since the day they’d met in the hospital.

  He pulled Addison into a tight hug, holding her close. He closed his eyes and for once let himself feel happy. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she whispered back. “I had one more stipulation. Nathan wasn’t exactly happy about it, but he agreed. For your own well-being.”

  Chris pulled back. Addison was a force of nature when she wanted something. He had no doubt that whatever she wanted, she could go toe to toe with Nathan and make it happen. He narrowed his eyes at his sister. “What did you do?”

  Addison just grinned.

  ~*~*~

  “Was it worth it?” Abigail asked the man.

  She sat across from Daniel Lewis, thick glass separating them from each other. He wore orange coveralls, stamped with a number. He looked older in here, less distinguished and more Mad Hatter.

  “Was what worth it?” He blinked at her like he had no idea what she was talking about.

  This was the first time she’d come to see him since she’d gone public with the evidence she’d carried with her for so long. She’d not been able to scare up enough courage for it.

  She pointedly stared at him, saying nothing.

  He shrugged, a sly smile playing across his lips. “The world will forget what I’ve done in a few months. For you, they’ll watch you, wait for you to screw up so they can pounce on you and destroy America’s Princess. I created you, but they’ll destroy you.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but that was no different than any other time in her life.

  “It could have been a good life for you, Abigail. You could have had everything you wanted.”