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“What do you mean?”
“Will the cops come? Or suspect anything?” He burrows into my chest. “Michael, I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. Everything will be fine. Paddy is good and his guys are excellent cleaners. Not the first time they’ve had to get rid of someone.” Damon shudders. “I’m sorry baby. I haven’t exactly been living on the right side of the law. We know what we’re doing.”
Exhaling, Damon nods. “I trust you, so if you trust them, I trust them, too.”
Kissing his head, I let Damon go so he can pack a bag. For the rest of the night, I plan to hold him and take care of him. I need to make sure my man is alright.
Chapter 22
Damon
Michaelhasuswalkstealthily into the hotel. He has avoiding cameras down to a science and we make it to his room without any fuss. I gingerly hold my ribs as we walk inside.
After dropping my bag, Michael gently pulls me to the bed—being mindful of my ribs— and sits me on his lap. “Tell me what you’re thinking, baby.”
Sighing, I lay my head on his shoulder. “I feel like I’m going to wake up any moment and realize this is all a dream. I’ll wake up, back in my bed, listening to Conrad tell me to get up and do god knows what. I think James will waltz out of his office and tell me to go pick up his dry cleaning. I think Fallon will tell me to get some dinner on the stove before he kicks my ass.”
“That won’t happen,” Michael says earnestly.
“Are you sure? Are they really … dead?”
“They are. They’ll never come back. I’ll protect you from everything, even their ghosts.”
I didn’t know I needed to hear that until he said it. My lip trembles and tears leak from my eyes. My head rests on his shoulder and I cry silent tears, cleansing my soul. I not only cry for me, I cry for my mother who I never properly grieved. The one time I got too overwhelmed with emotion and cried at the dining room table, James told me to shut the fuck up and stop being a bitch. He said my mother was too soft on me and I needed to buck up. I hadn’t cried for her since.
Now, I feel all the emotions I felt when I was a child bubbling up and overflowing. A sob bursts from my throat and I crumple, holding on tight to Michael as I cry ugly tears. He rubs my hair and murmurs to me, telling me things will be okay and I’m safe now and things will get better.
When I’m all cried out, I lift my head and kiss Michael deeply, seeking comfort from his lips. He frames my face, pressing his lips to mine and caressing my tongue.
“Thank you,” I tell him when we separate. “I feel … okay, I think.”
“Damon. Baby. You shot Fallon.”
“I did.” I search myself to figure out how I feel about it. I think I’m okay. I mean, he deserved far worse. “He was … he could have killed you. I had to protect you.”
His eyes go soft and he kisses my forehead. “I appreciate that, baby. We’ll get you into therapy when you get to Canada. You don’t have to tell them what happened, but you do need to talk to someone.”
“I agree. I will.” My hand drifts up to my cheek. “My face. What will happen at work tomorrow? Will the cops suspect?”
He tilts my face back and forth. “You have makeup, right?”
I nod, smiling while I think about how I snuck away during lunch last week to get color matched at the mall. I wanted everything I could get my hands on for when I got to Canada. While I don’t foresee me wearing makeup every day, I want to some days, and didn’t want to struggle to find a color that blends with my skin.
“Okay,” he says. “We can practice tonight so we don’t have issues in the morning.”
After a shower to get the blood and violence off, we go through applying makeup a few times and by the time we’re both exhausted, we have it down. I feel confident that I can hide the redness. Michael snuck off to get me ice and by the time we’re ready for bed, the swelling has gone down.
Snuggling close to his chest, I hold Michael tightly, hanging on for dear life. “You’re incredible. You rescued me today, you know that? Most men would prefer flowers over a bloodbath.” The deep rumble of Michael’s laugh washes over me and I smile. “I’m glad you came into my life, Michael.”
He kisses me and pulls me on top of him. Before I fall asleep, I ask him the question that’s been on my mind since we got to the room. “Michael, you said you’d tell me what you were doing here.”
I feel his sigh and he holds me tighter. “I did. It’s not pretty, baby.”
“That’s okay. I want to know.”
After a few moments, Michael tells me about an assassin that was hired to kill his brother. How he got there just as the man was ready to kill Brent. I listen with a sense of shock. Michael really did save his brother.
