I take his mouth in a filthy kiss, pulling a long moan from him. I want to take him over this fucking desk, pull his pants down and bury myself in that nice, tight hole, but I don’t want to disturb anything that will make this crime scene look like anything other than a suicide.
“Come on,” I mutter against his lips, “let’s pack up this money and gold so we can get the fuck out here.”
Hill whines but gives me one last kiss and heads out the door.
We had a feeling we’d come across a windfall, so we packed some duffel bags just in case.
While Hill is gone, I start removing some of the money and bricks of gold from the safe. It’ll all be really fucking heavy, but hopefully we can take in all in one trip. I’m not keen on coming back in here.
Hill comes back about three minutes later with two duffel bags in his hand and two slung over his shoulders. “Think this will be enough?”
I shrug and take the bags from his hands. “It’ll have to work.”
We make quick work of stuffing the money and gold into the bags, the bars filling up two bags fast. All the cash fills two bagsto the brim, and we have to stuff some of the bills into the side pockets.
Hill scoffs, a look of disgust on his face. “Hoarding all this money and he could have paid his fucking workers.”
“No matter,” I say, zipping the last bag. “It’ll get where it needs to go.”
Standing, I check that the safe is empty, close the door and twist the knob to reset the combination. My gloves ensure I won’t leave fingerprints, so I’m not worried anyone will know I’m here. Once that’s done, I grab the frame of the picture and swing it closed, making sure the safe is hidden once again.
Pulling in a deep breath, I heft the bags that have all the fucking gold, pissed that Beningfield sat on all this instead of digging himself out of debt. But I don’t try to figure out how the generational wealthy think. It’s almost like they’re not real people.
I huff and Hill looks back at me, strain etched on his face. “I swear to god I want to go back up there, revive him, and kill him all over again. Who the fuck stashes all this away when their net worth is fucking negative thirty mil?”
“Someone that didn’t want to give up their last bit of wealth. If he’d paid it back, he’d have really been broke. He was comfortable knowing he had some cash on hand.”
“Too bad it didn’t save him.”
When we get outside, we load the bags into the back, both of us rolling our shoulders to loosen up the knots the weight of all that money left behind.
We get in the car, and Hill lets out a long sigh. “How are we going to cash those gold bars? There’s a lot.”
“I know people like you know people,” I quip as I start the car. “I can have them cashed in, but it’ll take a while.”
“That’s fine. We can start the drops at the first victim’s house in the next few weeks. There should be enough to pay eachwoman handsomely. Then we can send more every few months until it’s all gone.”
It was Hill’s idea to count up all the money Beningfield had stashed away—if he had a stash—and pay his victims for their years of trauma. It won’t heal anything, but it’ll help them start over if they want to get away. He also suggested we pay any remaining hospital bills if they have them, starting with Leesa’s.
He’s so fucking generous, such a good man. I would have left it all behind, not really needing the money and not wanting to touch anything that belonged to that slimeball. But it’s a better idea if his stash goes to someone that can use it.
Taking Hill’s hand, I kiss the back and say, “I love you.”
“Your love better get me a good ring,fiancé.”
I bark a laugh. “It will. Whatever you want. As long as we’re together.”
“Always.”
Epilogue
Hill
ONE YEAR LATER
I whistle obnoxiouslyas I drag the axe behind me. Lucian rolls his eyes and Menace smiles as we walk through the house.
“What?” I ask Lucian.
