“What a piece of shit,” Bolton marvels. “You know, hun, if you cut someone in the stomach the right way, it takes a while for them to bleed out. He’ll feel everything until the blood loss makes him go into shock.”
“What a great idea. Just the death this fucker needs.”
“Being a writer comes in handy sometimes,” Bolton quips. He instructs me on where to cut him and how deep to maximize his suffering.
Watching him die didn’t give me the satisfaction I thought it would. If anything, it made me feel empty. Eloise is still gone. There are still bad, horrible people in the world. Women just like her are still suffering. Killing Bawdin, DiMuzio, and the Summerton brothers doesn’t erase those facts.
Bolton wraps his arms around me, giving me support I didn’t know I needed. As if he’s reading my mind, he says, “Tomorrow, we’ll get started on finding the rest of these sickos tomorrow. Let’s clean this place up and go home. We can cuddle and watch something fun. I hear there’s a new gay hockey show.”
“Sounds great, baby.” Bolton and I love hockey. I love it because I’m a fan of the sport, and he loves it because he enjoys watching the players beat each other up.
“How are we going to clean this up?” He scans the room, taking in all the bloodstains and the dead body hanging from the meat hook.
“I own this warehouse through multiple shell companies. We’ll throw the body into the river, so the water takes care of any evidence. Then a few days later, we can burn this place down just to be safe.” I don’t want there to be any chances of Bolton being implicated in this.
“Sounds good, daddy,” he quips, winking at me. “Look at us, a vigilante husband duo. Taking out trash the city can’t bother with.”
I kiss him on the cheek, sighing.
“Maybe when we get home, I can show you some pictures of Eloise?” I haven’t looked at them in ages, mostly out of shame. I should have done more to help her. But with Bolton, I feel like I could at least try.
“I’d love to. Let’s go home.”
I didn’t want Bolton involved, but I can’t deny he has a knack for this. And there’s no one else I’d want by my side. Everything is better with him. We’ll find out who Bawdin worked for and take them down.
Because with my husband, anything is possible.
EPILOGUE: BOLTON
ONE WEEK LATER…
“You can’t fire me! You owe Knightmare Publishing a book!” Meredith screeches.
“Um, Yes I can. You’re my agent—you act as an intermediary between the publisher and I. After Cal talked with them, we found out you weren’t even doing that.”
Meredith had hounded me again for my manuscript, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew I had to get rid of her and find a better agent. Cal had called Knightmare Publishing, and it turns out Meredith lied to me. She never asked them about my writing gay romance. They have a new imprint specifically for LGBTQ+ romance and are more than happy to have me on the roster. They’re so supportive that they extended my contract by three more months, so I can finish my new story. It’s about a graphic designer who’s hired at a new company. His boss is an older, sexy executive.Or so he thinks.Turns out, he moonlights as a vigilante. Together, they solve his brother’s disappearance and bring him home from a human trafficking ring.
“Meredith, here’s what’s going to happen,” Cal cuts in. “You’re going to shut up, and accept that Bolton is letting you go. If you slander my husband, or say a word about him beyond ‘Oh, he was a great client’, I’ll make sure you never work in this industry again. Do you understand me?”
The fight drains from her, and she nods in agreement. She’s smart enough not to cross my husband.
“Great! I look forward to never interacting with you past this video call. Have the life you deserve, Publishing Satan. My lawyer will be in touch.” I end the call.
It feels as if an immense weight has been lifted from my chest. I can finally breathe.
“How does it feel to be the newest gay romance author at Knightmare Publishing?” Cal asks me.
“Amazing. I can finally publish the stories I want to write.” Stories that should have been published years ago. I hug him, and he kisses my temple.
“I can’t wait to read your newest book. Does it have a title yet?”
I doubt my new agent will care if I share the title with Cal. Emanuel is way more laid back than Meredith was. “I’m thinking of something likeBoss KnightorUnder Cover of Darkness. We’ll see.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Maybe when you’re done writing, we can celebrate and get Moroccan food?”
I’m always down to eat, especially if I don’t have to cook it. “Of course.”
Cal leaves, and I open up my rough draft and pick back up in the middle of a spicy scene.
