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“Maybe I can make a case for manslaughter. After all,” I went on, “she was about to stab you, and I couldn’t just stand there and let that happen.”
“There’ll never be a case to be heard.” His knowing tone knotted the ball of repulsion in my belly.
“There has to be,” I whispered. “I can’t get away with this.”
“You already have,” he assured me. “The detective was never here, and any evidence to the contrary will soon be erased, deleted, and wiped away.”
“But it’s not right, Master.” The prospect of being sick was all the more tangible, thanks to the throbbing in my head. “I still did it, and someone will miss her.”
“Yes,” he agreed, squeezing my palm. “And that’s tragic for them.” Hesitating, his free hand rose to my face and drew away the loose strands of my hair. “But once her body is burned, the C.C.T.V erased, and her phone dealt with, there’s nothing tying her to Barrington House.”
“She must have driven here.” Sitting bolt upright in bed, a fresh surge of panic enveloped me. “You said she was in a blue car earlier. How else could she have got here?”
I hated myself for the fear in my voice. The tremble was only for me, the concern I harbored for saving my own sorry skin. It had nothing to do with the woman lying dead in the kitchen. At that moment, I realized I’d become more than a murderer. I had morphed into something worse—a coward.
“I’ll find the car and get rid of it.”
“B-But if the police find an abandoned car with your DNA all over it, they’ll be able to trace it back to us, Master, and—”
“Hey.” Pressing one fingertip softly to my lips, he silenced me. “Relax, little girl. You forget, I have some expertise in this field.” His lips twitched, though I failed to see the humor. “I know how to deal with this.”
“You do?” I mumbled around his digit.
“Yes,” he confirmed, leaning closer and replacing his finger with his lips. Skimming over mine, they offered the most sensual solace—more than a killer like me merited. “I will deal with it, and you will stay here and be saved.”
Saved? That was an interesting way of dealing with the woman who’d just shot someone dead.
“But I just killed her…” Brows knitting, I almost choked on the words.
“You just rescued me,” he corrected. “From the woman who wanted me dead. You, little girl, are my savior.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kade
Time protracted as I waited with her, minutes morphing into the small hours of the morning until she finally stopped fretting and allowed sleep to take her. I understood her wretchedness better than most, though I could barely recall who my first kill had been, let alone how I’d reacted. No doubt I was less remorseful than my little girl, but then that was the difference between us.
I had always seen her compassion as a weakness, but kissing her cheek and whispering goodbye, I accepted I’d been wrong. She was specialbecauseof her lingering respect for humanity and in only a few months together, I’d managed to help her rip right through it. The thought consumed me as I started work, but I couldn’t allow myself to dwell. There was a lot to do.
The human body contained a surprising amount of blood, particularly when pints of it were spilled across your kitchen tiles. It took a long time for the blood-splattered room to resemble normality, but I worked studiously, keeping my little girl in mind whenever I tired. Collecting the soaked rags into black trash bags, I glanced around the space. There was still the matter of Lucas’ body to deal with and the kitchen would need another scrub down before I’d be completely satisfied. Even then, if forensics turned up at my door, they’d be able to discover the traces of blood still present, but it didn’t perturb me. Forensics wasn’t going to show up. I would make damn sure of it.
Grabbing a cup of coffee, I stripped out of my clothes and discarded them with Tiffany’s cardigan and the other rubbish. Dressing in joggers and a sweatshirt, I leaned against the counter and took a moment to watch the sunrise, reveling in the beauty of the simple act. It was so easy to take things like nature’s wonder for granted, to always assume the sun would rise and you’d see another day, but the night’s proceedings had clarified the assumption.
Only my little girl’s quick thinking and fortitude had saved me from a potentially fatal knife wound. I could easily have been the one bleeding to death. I’d been moments from finding myself the latest spirit to haunt Barrington.
I’d loved Tiffany before last night, adored her with my body and mind, but draining my coffee, I was struck by the sense of a new awakening. She was no longer my captive, no longer only my submissive or the woman I worshipped—her actions had elevated her to some unforeseen higher status. Placing the cup beside the teacups she and Lucas drank from, I finally understood the difference.
Tiffany had killed for me. She’d leapt over the line to save me, knowing full well what the fallout would be. A woman like her wasn’t designed to slaughter. It wasn’t in her genetic make-up, but she was so used to pushing beyond her comfort zone for me, she hadn’t thought twice. She’d acted and condemned herself. There were no words for the sacrifice she’d made, nothing I could do to make it up to her, but loading the cups into the dishwasher, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life trying to.
Surrendering her body to me had made her mine, but eliminating Lucas had achieved something far more fundamental. Now I was hers—my soul belonged to her in a tangible way. I’d never believed in the idea of soul mates, but every fiber of me told me that’s what Tiffany was—the essence of everything I sought in life. A woman who’d submit sexually, but who, when push came to shove, would always have my back. I’d thought it many times before, but staring out the window, there was no doubt—I was the luckiest guy in the world.
Emboldened by caffeine and the incredible woman I’d found, I headed out into the early morning light, opening old Noel’s shed and scanning the enormous array of gardening apparatus on offer. Choosing a well-used spade and a tin of kerosene, I headed out onto the grounds to select the perfect site. A pair of sparrows chased me as I walked, dancing around each other as if they were trying to reveal the right location. Scanning the open space, I smiled, thankful to have inherited the gigantic property. My father had been a swine, but he’d bequeathed his only son a huge and isolated estate. Nobody ever came out here, and nobody would ever find Lucas. The Barrington estate was perfect.
Taking the sparrow’s advice, I set to work, digging out a shallow grave. I didn’t intend to bury Lucas—evidence was always less likely to survive flames than the earth—but the impromptu hole would conceal the ashes of whatever remained of her. I worked faster than I thought, completing the task within the hour. Striding back to the house, I checked Lucas’ pockets. Retrieving her car keys, I slid them into my joggers with my phone, which I’d found with her body. Placing her device on the counter, with a vow to check its secrets later, I collected her corpse and took it to her final resting place. It was true that it wasn’t the most dignified end, but then I wasn’t well known for my attention to dignity. Throwing her body into the hole, I returned to the kitchen, grabbed a box of matches, and carried out the bags. I emptied the contents into the open space before pouring the fuel over the grave.
Pulling in a deep breath, I lit a match and threw it onto the site before retreating to a safe distance. I had no inclination to watch it burn but wanted to make sure the blaze was safe before I headed inside to shower. Devouring the kerosene, the flames rose high into the air like a ritualistic bonfire before settling down to their purpose. It would take a while to complete the cremation, but it didn’t matter. The smoke and odor would bother no one but us. I’d already left a message for Noel and his team, advising them that Tiffany had a virus, and they should steer clear for a day or two.
By the time anyone returned to Barrington, the ashes of whatever remained of Detective Lucas would be buried in the earth.
