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Honestly, it took the pleasure out of it but hell, I came here for a reason and I was using time I didn’t have.
The woman was trying to escape from behind him, moving slowly off the bed. She fell off the side of the bed with a thud, before she opened a drawer to the side. She turned around to aim a gun at me just as I saw Jolie’s arm raise and shoot. The bullet landed in the center of her head, killing her instantly.
She fell back against the wall, her eyes open. Her body crumpled against the side of the room in a heap, the gun landing between her legs.
“You found someone as heartless as you,” my father said, stonily. “Congratulations.”
I aimed my gun at his head and took my shot. He fell back against the bed, unable to form another word. I didn’t want to take the risk of him using my wife’s name. He didn’t deserve the right. I turned to Jolie, her eyes wild with frenzy.
She had the same urge to pull the trigger as I did and she loved the power of it. God, could I have picked a better wife?
I pulled her to me, taking her mouth with my own. Our tongues tangled as I pulled her to me, our bodies fitting perfectly together.
“We still have something to do,” she said. “Hold that thought.”
“Now that’s impossible but I’ll do my best,” I said as she led me back down to the car and we took off to her family home.
There was one more person we needed to end, and that was her father.
Just as it should have always been.
Not Tyler and Gunnar’s deaths but Edward and Marshall’s. The real villains of the city.
She put her hand on my thigh as we tore off through the city. It was already half on fire but by the end of the night, it would be gone.
And so would we.
Chapter Ten
Jolie
My father stood in his office when I entered. A glass of rum in his hands, to calm his nerves probably. I felt the heaviness of the gun in my hand with every step I took. This man had taken everything from me. He’d stolen my childhood, the formative years when I should have been with my family, and taken my freedom. He was a fucking monster. The anxiety crept up my spine being here again with murder on my mind.
When I’d been in Roman’s father’s apartment, I’d not felt an inch of anxiety. Now, I felt the pressure. The anxiety pulsing all around me, my hand shook, the gun moving against my leg. I held it tighter to my leg so the monster in front of me didn’t see it.
Roman was behind me, I could feel him there. The shaking stopped. He had given me some kind of confidence back against my father. With him there, I was capable of anything and I knew it. He’d saved me the day I saw him.
My lover.
My husband.
“I know why you’ve come,” he said, putting his drink down on the desk. “I’m not going to make it easy.”
“You never have,” I said. “Do you realize what you did to me when you made me go to that school? Do you know what they did to me the first night?”
“It’s known as a tough school but you can’t tell me you didn’t learn anything there.”
“Sure I did, after the trauma. You know, right? They called you, and told you I was in the hospital wing almost every weekend for six months and you didn’t so much as call me or come and visit me.”
I realized that saying these things would probably be a surprise to Roman but I needed answers. I needed to know why he sent me away and why he never saved me from the beatings, from the bullying.
“If I hadn't done what I did, you would have ended up in a bad marriage, with no prospects and no way to defend yourself.”
“Who gave you the right to choose my outcome like that?” I asked him. “I had a right to choose my own path.”
“You have, anyway, haven’t you?” he spat back, looking over at Roman.
I followed his eyesight and saw the way Roman sat against his bureau against the wall, his gun relaxed in his hand. He knew this was my show and he was giving me the time I needed.
