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I grab the photo and shove it into my back pocket as I head for the steps.
When I reach the kitchen, Riot is pouring the last remaining drops of gasoline onto the body of the piece of shit that’s been snooping into her life.
“Alright, you remember where to go right? Next street over.”
Riot nods.
“Ok good. I’ll meet you there.”
Riot raises his fist and I bump it with mine, then turns and jogs back to the truck. Pulling up a chair, I give it a few minutes. I want to make sure he has time to creep to our meeting spot unnoticed. He’s supposed to circle the block once or twice to make sure no one is watching him.
I grip my hair with both of my gloved hands, and let out a groan. I wish I could say this was the end. I wish I could say this one act would set her free, but if Spencer wants her life back, this is only the beginning.
The beginning of a fucking war with a society I know next to nothing about.
But this time, I’ll be keeping my promise.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I check the time. I’ve waited long enough. I quickly send the text message to my city contact, the one who will have the fire department stand down. The one who will command them to let the house burn to the ground.
Sometimes it pays to have crooked politicians on the payroll.
Pocketing the phone, I stand up and walk over to the bodies, pulling a pack of matches from my front pocket. Striking one, I drop it onto the bodies and take a step back.
The fire spreads quickly. Much quicker than I could have anticipated.
I stumble back toward the door, yank it open, and run.
I run down the back alley between the homes. I duck between houses, running over to the next alley, and I don’t stop until Zeke’s truck is in my line of sight. Surveying my surroundings, once I’m sure there’s no one outside, or standing in a window, I head for the truck.
Reaching for the passenger door, I slip inside and pull the door shut as quietly as I can. For a few moments we sit and watch as smoke billows into the sky two streets over.
The authorities will assume the resident of the home burned inside. Everyone knows there was a fiancé who regularly spent the night. It’ll make the news. It'll spread from city to city, because everyone loves a good tragedy. And while the authorities drag their feet identifying whatever skeletal remains they find in the ash, we figure out our next steps.
Grant Maddox won’t see me coming if I have anything to say about it.
Kicking the bedroom door shut behind me, I step toward the bed and Spencer sits up, pausing the movie she was watching.
“You’re back, thank fucking god.”
Shrugging my jacket off, I toss it into the floor of the closet and close the distance between us as she jumps to her feet. Adrenaline courses throughout me, and the only thing I know in this fucking moment is that I need her. I need her on a primal and feral level. I need to own every tremble of her body, every moan from her lips.
“Travis, y-you’re bloody, there’s so much blood. Oh my fucking god are y-“
“It’s not mine,” I growl as I take one more step and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her up around me. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I slam my lips against hers letting out a loud groan as her tongue swipes against mine. With one hand against the back of her head, I hold her against me tightly, not willing to let her fucking go.
My cock aches, and presses against the zipper of my jeans, as she grinds against me. I can feel her wetness through the denim.
She bites down on my bottom lip, sucking it between hers as she pulls backward, breaking our kiss.
“I fucking need you Spencer. I need you.”
Dropping her to the bed, she bounces as she lands, and I tear my shirt off, tossing it on the floor. Scrambling, she rips her t-shirt off too, as I kick off my sneakers and pull my pants off.
Blood from my clothing is smeared across her neck and cheeks, and she looks fucking wild. Uninhibited. Her green eyes glitter with desperation as I kneel onto the bed, lowering myself on top of her.
She trembles, biting down on her lower lip, and I run my fingertips through her sweet cunt to find that she’s absolutely dripping.
“You like it don’t you?” I growl. “Knowing I’m covered in the blood of the man who was sent to hunt you? Knowing I’m the one who took his final breaths?”
