Chapter Twenty-Two

Cade

" W hat's up, boss man?" I ask Ames, staring out my front window like a Stage-Five Clinger, trying to catch a glimpse of January. She hasn't stuck so much as a toe outside except for the few hours she was gone on Friday morning. Being this close to her but not able to see her is driving me insane.

Normally, I'd lose myself in work, but I can't even do that, considering I'm on administrative leave until they know whether or not I'm going to be charged with murder. Needless to fucking say, I'm losing my goddamn mind.

I've scrubbed and repainted the bedroom Kaleo's boys destroyed. I sanded down the hardwood floors to get the paint off and then waxed them. I've replaced all the furniture with new shit. My ass is still jittery with pent-up energy. Even jerking off to thoughts of January riding my cock hasn't settled me down any. If anything, those fantasies only made me miss her more.

"Roman Gregory and Luke Santiago found a gun on Curtis Kaleo's property," Ames says.

A smile slides across my face, satisfaction rolling through me.

"It appears to match the one used to kill Adcock and his buddies. They're sending it off for forensic testing to confirm."

I don't bother to tell him that it'll match. He doesn't bother to ask me if I planted it. We both know it will and that I did, but we dance around that subject just like we have every other day since Hernandez scooped me up from Kaleo's and took me in for questioning. I'm pretty certain Ames knows I'm the one who killed them, but he hasn't asked. For some reason, he's still fighting for my dumb ass. So is Roman.

"Kaleo always was a goddamned idiot," I mutter to Ames. The fucker thought he had me over a barrel with that receipt—which I'm pretty sure he fucking planted. But I haven't kept myself alive and on top for so long by being stupid. Before I left town all those years ago, I took Kaleo's gun and hid it in the shed behind his mama's house, beneath years of accumulated junk I knew damn well he'd never clean up. His prints are the only ones on it.

Still, I was starting to worry they'd never find it, and I would go down for this. I still could. I wore gloves that night and made myself as invisible as possible, but committing murder isn't exactly a risk-free scenario. And I wasn't exactly in a great headspace at the time. I could have fucked up.

Ames grunts his agreement like he knows what's up with Kaleo. Hell, at this point, it wouldn't surprise me to find out he knows all the sordid details about my past. For a long time, I thought I buried the worst of it, but apparently not deeply enough to keep nosy motherfuckers like Ames and Roman from finding out the truth. They know everything—or at least enough to know not to ask me if I did it.

I'm not even mad.

For whatever reason, they've both kept my secret for me. I should probably feel bad that two good cops turned a blind eye to the fact that I killed three people, but Ames and Roman are good cops. If they think I'm worth saving…maybe I'm not as fucking terrible as I always thought.

How's that for an epiphany?

Not saying I'm a hero or a good dude or deserve to be a cop, but maybe shit isn't as black and white as I've always told myself it is. I've been thinking about that a lot the last few days, letting it percolate. I'm not sure what it leaves, but maybe one day, I will be worthy of January. Probably not, but shit, it's not like that's gonna stop me from trying to deserve her anyway.

I went without her for seven fucking years. If I don't go to prison, I'm not living without her anymore.

"Unless your fingerprints are on that weapon, you'll be cleared once forensics comes back," Ames says.

"Why would my fingerprints be on that gun?" I ask, peeling back the curtains in the living room to peek out. The front of January's house is dark. I guess she's in bed for the night.

Fuck.

I want to slide between the sheets with her and then slide between those sexy little legs of hers.

For a guy who went without for years with no problem, I'm hard up like a motherfucker these days. I'm rock hard all the time, desperate to sink back into the sweet spot between her legs until we're both too exhausted to move. Of course, she'd probably shiv me for even thinking it, but I can't help myself. I've had another taste of her, and now I can't stop thinking about it.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask Ames.

"Go for it," he drawls, amusement in his voice because I never fucking ask if I can ask questions. I just ask them until he gets annoyed and hangs up on me or kicks me out of his office.

"Hypothetically speaking, if you fucked up and got your girl's brother killed…how would you win her back?" I let the curtain fall and pace in a couple of circles before going back to the window to peek out again. Her house is still dark. Dammit.

"Hypothetically?" he asks.

"You're a shit listener, Ames," I huff and drop the curtain. Deciding I'm not going to have the good fortune of setting eyes on her tonight, I lock up and start turning off the lights before making my way back to the bedroom. It still smells like paint, but it's not like I'm going to sleep anyway.

"Hypothetically, I'd do whatever the fuck I had to do to get my girl back," Ames says with a little growl in his voice, as if the thought of losing Zo? Ames pisses him off. "But what happened to Titan James isn't your fault, Kincaid."

I paused mid-step. "How much do you know about what happened?"

"Enough to believe what I just said," he says without hesitation. "Enough to know you've been punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault. I'm thirty-six and about to go gray because of you." He sounds annoyed about that. "I can't wait until you quit so I can stop day drinking."

I snort laughter. "You day drink?"

"Like a motherfucker," he growls. "Every fucking time I have to deal with you, I drink."

I laugh again because I'm pretty sure he's not lying. He told me once that he keeps a bottle of vodka in his desk because of me and Tristan. I thought he was just fucking with me, but I guess not.

"You really think I'm going to quit?" I ask.

"I know you are," he says. "Knew the day I flew home that you weren't coming back to Seattle. And since you refuse to deal with anyone at the DEA there, I know you aren't going to request a transfer."

He's not wrong about that. Luke Santiago is the only one here who doesn't piss me off. Besides, I think they're a little afraid of me. They made Ames deliver the news that I was on administrative leave instead of sending someone from here to do it themselves. Pussies.

"I'll be coming back to Seattle," I mutter to Ames, though I think we both know the only reason I'll be going back will be to pack up my shit. I told January I'd never make her wait for me again. I can't keep that promise from Seattle.

"Right," he snorts. "I'll let you know how this latest development plays out."

"Can you do me another favor?" I ask and then rake a hand through my hair and blow out a breath. "Can you find me a shrink or some shit? Someone who won't just piss me off or blow smoke up my ass."

He's quiet for so long I pull the phone away from my ear to make sure he didn't hang up on my ass. And then, "Yeah," he says softly. "I'll find someone, Kincaid."

"Thanks."

He hesitates. "I'm proud of you. It's about time you decided to fight for something."

"I've been fighting for a long time."

"No, you've been surviving for a long time," he says and then hangs up on me.

I shake my head and then toss my cell onto the nightstand before stripping my shirt and pants off and crawling into the bed. I cross my arms behind my head and stare up at the ceiling for a long time, just thinking about finally dealing with my shit. The thought alone is terrifying, but I'll do it if that's what it takes to get January back. I'd crawl through hell for that girl if she asked it of me.

My phone ringing jerks me awake about an hour later. I reach for it, my pulse pounding when I see her name on the screen.

"Baby girl? What's wrong? Are you okay?" I'm half asleep, but even then, I know the only reason she'd be calling me is if something is wrong.

"I woke you up," she whispers.

"Don't give a fuck," I mumble and sit upright in the bed. "What's wrong, little monster?"

"Nothing…I…" She sounds so vulnerable it kills me a little. I just want to scoop her up in my arms and fight her demons for her. "I just need you to talk to me for a little while, okay?" she says, her voice trembling.

"You sure you're okay?" I'll talk to her until I can't fucking talk anymore if that's what she wants.

"I'm working on it," she says. "I'm…I'm seeing someone."

Pain slams into me, ripping through me like an atom bomb. I think I whimper.

"A therapist," she says quickly. "I'm seeing a therapist. Trying to work through some of my issues."

The fist around my throat loosens, allowing me to pull in a breath.

"That's good," I murmur, regret cutting deep. I fucking hate that she's hurting because of me, and there isn't a goddamn thing I can do to stop it. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby girl. There are so many things I wish I could do differently. If I could bring them back for you, I would. I'd take their place in a second to give you back your family."

I would trade my life without hesitation to bring them back for her. If I could go back and do it all over, I would change everything about what happened. She'd never have to feel the guilt and pain I know she feels. She'd never have to go to sleep at night, knowing she'll never see her mom or brother again.

"They're your family too," she whispers, and, fuck, I think those are the sweetest words I've ever heard. Jagged little pieces of my heart stitch themselves back together again. For the first time in years, that corner of it stops fucking bleeding. "I don't want you to take their place, Cade. I never wanted that. I would never want that. I…I'm glad I didn't lose you too."

God. She's killing me and doesn't even know it.

"January." That's all I can get out through the swell of emotion coursing through me.

"I don't blame you," she whispers, shuffling around like she's moving shit. "Titan made his own choices, Cade. You weren't responsible for them, and I don't blame you for what happened. I was hurting the day I told you it was your fault, but I didn't mean it. I wish…I wish you would have told me the truth back then. I wish you hadn't carried that weight by yourself for so long. There's a lot of stuff I wish for, but I don't wish you were dead instead of Titan."

"Fuck," I whisper, feeling like I might fucking cry at her words. I've dreamed about hearing them for so long but never thought I would. Never thought I could ever deserve to hear them. I'm still not sure I do. But I want to feel like I deserve her forgiveness. Like I deserve her .

"I miss you," she whispers, her voice trembling and sweet.

I groan, my dick turning to steel in my boxers. I slide a hand inside and wrap it around my cock, trying to ease the pressure. It doesn't help, though. Nothing but sliding inside her is going to take away this ache.

"I miss you too, baby girl. So goddamn much, but I've been trying to be good and give you space. I'm about to lose my fucking mind trying, but I am trying." I exhale a breath. "Now that I've had you in my arms again, I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to sleep without you in them."

"I don't want space."

"Yeah?" I'm fucked. There's no way I can leave her alone now. My hand glides up and down my cock, jerking myself off as I think about eliminating every particle of space between us. Not even a quark will fit between our bodies when I get my hands on her again.

"There's a lot you don't know. A lot I want to tell you," she whispers softly.

"You can tell me anything, January."

"I know. It's just...It's overwhelming, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that."

She exhales. "Cade, I've been–" She stops talking and laughs, saying my name. "Did you seriously just run over here?"

My hand on my cock stops moving. "What?"

"I just told you that I don't want space, and now you're in my living room," she says, laughing sweetly.

Fuck. Oh, fuck.

My heart stops beating, pure terror pumping through my veins instead of blood.

"January, I'm not in your house," I tell her, trying to remain calm even though I've never been so fucking scared in my life.

I leap out of the bed and grab my personal gun from the nightstand. I don't even bother putting on clothes as I rush through the house, so fucking afraid for her that I can't breathe.

"Cade," she whimpers. The sheer terror in her voice guts me.

"Hide, baby girl," I order.

"Please hurry," she pleads, that sweet voice shaking with fear.

"I love you. I'm coming for you," I swear to her. "Hide."

I don't want to hang up with her, but I have to call for backup. A frustrated sob rips from my lips when I dial Roman's number and it goes straight to voicemail. I hit the end button and dial Santiago, knowing damn well I'll have better luck getting someone here calling him than I do calling 911. It's Los Angeles. Response times are ridiculous.

"Yo," Santiago says, sounding wide awake.

"Someone's in January's house," I practically yell at him, flinging my front door open and running down the steps. I don't even shut the door behind me. "Get here, now."

"On my way!"

I disconnect the phone and toss it…somewhere. I don't know where. All I can think about is January. Her house is still dark, but the front door is standing partially open. I growl in frustration that her alarm isn't going off, and vow to spank her ass for not setting the damn thing.

I keep to the shadows as I slip up the steps onto the porch. I place my feet carefully, avoiding all the areas that creak and groan so whoever is inside doesn't hear me coming. The door squeaks faintly when I push it open wide enough to fit through. My gaze bounces around the room, but it's dark. The only light comes from the LEDs on the electronics.

A muted glow comes from beneath January's door. The sight makes my stomach churn violently. Whoever came in would have seen the same thing. If they're here to hurt her, they probably went right for it.

I'm fucking terrified that's exactly what happened. I know in my bones Kaleo came for her because of me.

Please be hiding, baby girl. Fuck, please.

I creep down the hall, keeping my gun steady. It takes me longer than I'd like to get to her door since I have to check each room on the way to make sure they're clear.

A soft rustling comes from inside her room as I step up outside it, keeping my back to the wall. The door is cracked open, but I can't see anything except for a tiny sliver of her bed and the nightstand.

A shadow moves, but I can't tell if it's her or if it's someone else.

"Please don't do this," January whispers, pleading with someone.

The sound of her voice damn near drops me to my knees. The last little hope I had that she's safe dies.

The fear in her voice has rage sinking its claws into me like a winged demon. I'm going to fucking murder whoever is in there for coming into her space. For scaring her. For daring to touch what's mine.

"Your boy should have fucking stayed gone!" Kaleo bellows.

Oh, this stupid motherfucker.

I push the door open, growling loudly when I see him and January. He's standing in front of the closet with his back to the wall like he's been waiting for me and wanted to make sure he saw me coming. He's got her pressed up against his body, using her like a shield as he aims a gun at her head. His gaze flies to mine when he sees me standing there with my gun pointed at him.

He looks like shit. His designer clothes are dirty. Mud splatters his white Jays, turning them a dirty brown color. He hasn't shaved since I last saw him, and his goatee is getting long and starting to cross from unkempt to plain fucking messy.

The crazed glint in his eyes and the scar on his face make him look like a wild animal backed into a corner.

He's holding onto January so tightly her feet dangle off the floor. There's a necklace in her hands, the chain wrapped tightly around her wrist. She's wearing a tank top and the same tiny pair of shorts she was in on my first night back here.

"Cade," she whimpers, sounding so fucking scared.

I desperately want to tell her everything is okay, but I can't. I can't look into her eyes either. If I do, I'll lose my mind, and I can't do that right now. I need to focus on Kaleo. On keeping her safe from the son of a bitch.

"Let her go, Kaleo," I say softly, keeping my gun trained on him. "This is between you and me."

"Fuck you," he snarls at me, pressing the gun into her temple even harder.

She whimpers, struggling in his arms.

"Let her go," I urge him, trying like hell to keep myself in check when all I want to do is blow his fucking brains out right here and now. I can't do that, though. Not with him holding a gun to January's head. Too much could go wrong.

"You took everything from me; now I'm going to take everything from you," he says.

I guess this is probably a bad time to tell him that I fucking warned him, but… "I told you to leave her alone," I say softly. "I told you to stay off the block and let her have it. I told you to stop pimping out girls. I could have killed you the night I came for you, but I didn't. You didn't uphold your end of the bargain, Kaleo."

"Fuck your bargain!" he cries. "You think you're so goddamn untouchable with that badge they gave you, but we both know the truth, Kincaid. You're a murderer." He says it like he thinks the truth is going to shock January, but my girl doesn't even flinch at his words.

"What does that make you?" I ask him. "You sunk your claws into Titan and then let him die. What happened to him and Jana, what I did to the Diablos, is your fault. Because you couldn't leave us the fuck alone."

"I wanted you!" he roars at me, spit flying from his mouth. "I would have made you a king. We would have ran this fucking city together, but all you cared about was this bitch and her fucking brother."

"Watch what the fuck you say about my girl," I growl, ignoring the part about him wanting me because we both know what he wanted was me on a leash.

"With your money and my connections, we would have owned South Central!" he yells.

What the fuck?

"How do you know about the money?"

"Your name," he says impatiently. "Saw it on a whiskey bottle one day and got curious. Didn't take much to figure out you were the heir to a fucking empire."

Well, goddamn. Maybe he's not as fucking stupid as I always thought because I never put that shit together. I never even wondered who my grandparents were. Kaleo did, though.

Having money has been making my life a living hell since before I ever even knew I had it. Funny thing, though, I'd have given him every fucking penny if he would have left us alone. All I wanted was to keep January safe so none of this shit ever touched her.

Instead, it sank its claws into her so deeply she's still bleeding.

"I would have given you the money if you would have agreed to leave January and Titan alone," I mutter, so goddamn tired of doing this same song and dance. "I never wanted to be a fucking king. I never wanted to be a millionaire. I just wanted to be left the fuck alone, but you were too stupid to get that, Kaleo. You think everyone wants the same shit you do, that we're all out to be fucking criminal masterminds. All I ever wanted was for you to get off my dick. You want the money? You can have it. Just let January go."

"Fuck the money," he snarls at me. "It won't do me any fucking good in prison. You think they're going to let me out? Once I go down, that's it, man. I'm done."

Even now, there's a certain savage sense of satisfaction in knowing I took everything from him, exactly like I swore I would.

He wanted to turn me into a king, and I guess he did. I'm the motherfucker men like him fear. I'm the motherfucker capable of dismantling empires. He's the reason I am what I am. I'm the monster of his own goddamn making. And I burned his fucking world to the ground because of it. That's how this story ends.

He should have read Frankenstein. Then he'd have known the monster always turns on his creator. Unlike Frankenstein, there won't be any tears shed when Kaleo dies though. Not from me. Not for him. And if he takes me with him when he leaves this world, well…at least I died saving something I love.

"Take me and let her go," I tell him, holding my gun up in surrender.

"No!" January cries out.

He's considering it. I see it in his eyes. I decide to sweeten the pot.

"You'll still go to prison, but you'll go as a goddamn legend if you take me out." I gesture at all the scars littering my body. "Motherfuckers like you have been trying to kill me for years and haven't been able to do it. You'll be a king in prison if you take me. If you kill her, all you'll be is another fucking chump."

January cries softly, sobbing in his tight grip. I don't look at her, though. I can't.

I can practically see the wheels in his mind spinning. Time seems to drag into eternity as he thinks over my suggestion, his grip on my girl not wavering once. I desperately want to look into her eyes and tell her all those things I never got to tell her, like how fucking proud I am of her and how much I love her. But I know if I do, I'll falter. I'll fail. And I can't do that. I've failed her enough already.

If one of us has to die to end this shit once and for all, it'll be me.

"Kick your gun to me," he says then, and I know I've got him. He's going to let her go.

Whatever happens after that…well, I'll die young and leave a pretty corpse like I always figured I would. But January will be safe, and that's all that really matters in the end. It's what I've wanted since the day I met her.

I crouch slowly and set my gun on the floor. Once it's out of my hands, I hold them up, not stupid enough to stand up just yet. "Aim your gun away from her, and then I'll kick mine over."

He grumbles like he wants to disagree, but then he slowly points the gun away from her. It's not much—it's not enough for me to think I stand a chance of shooting him before he can kill her—but it's better than nothing.

Sirens sound in the distance, but they're faint. There's no fucking way they're going to make it here in time to make a damn bit of difference. All I have is faith that the motherfucker who has been making my life hell since I was a kid wants to be a legend more than he wants to make me watch him murder January.

Jesus.

I'm trusting him to do the right thing. The irony of that isn't lost on me, but faith is all I've got left at this point.

I stand up slowly and kick my gun toward him. It spins across the floor like a roulette wheel turning, scraping along until he steps on it to prevent the weapon from slamming into the wall.

January cries out when he lets her go so quickly she stumbles forward two steps before she catches herself. She's sobbing openly. The devastated sound wrecks me. She runs toward me and flings her arms around my waist. I keep my eyes locked on Kaleo as she hugs me.

"I love you so fucking much," I whisper for her ears alone, reveling in the bittersweet feel of her in my arms.

"Cade," she cries, her body shaking against mine. "I love you."

Hearing those sweet words from her lips means everything to me.

"Run, baby girl, do you hear me? You run and you don't fucking look back."

She hugs me tighter for just a minute and then she pulls away from me and stumbles out of the bedroom.

As soon as she goes, taking every piece of my heart with her, I push all thoughts of her out of my mind. If I think about her and what she's going to endure when this motherfucker kills me, I'll fucking crack.

She's strong, though, stronger than she knows. She lost her entire family, but she's still breathing. She'll survive losing me too. She has to survive because I need to give her time to get the fuck away from here.

Kaleo grins at me like he won, but he always was a dumb son of a bitch. He might take my life tonight, but I won the minute he let January walk out of this room. My soul is tied to hers. He'll never get his hands on it. He'll never own me. He'll never beat me. He couldn't when we were kids and he can't now. He's just too stupid to realize it.

"You're going to die for a bitch. How fucking sweet," he mutters, pointing his gun at my head. "Guess that pussy has superpowers. You always did have good taste, Kincaid. If she hadn't been wrapped around your dick for so long, I would have tapped that ass a long time ago, but I don't do sloppy seconds."

I hope like hell he's a bad shot, but let's fucking face it, I'm not that lucky, so what's the point? Anyone else would probably close their eyes and say a prayer right about now. But I've never been particularly good at doing what I'm supposed to do, at what people expect me to do.

I lift my middle finger skyward and laugh. "Fuck you, Kaleo. January wouldn't come near your STD-infested limp dick with someone else's pussy."

His grin slips, rage overtaking his expression.

A shot rings out, followed by another, and then another.

I close my eyes, hoping the last thing I see is January's sweet face.

A second later, I'm still not hurting, and that makes me suspicious as hell. I've been shot more than once. It always hurts like a motherfucker. So either he's a damn good shot, and I died as soon as the bullet pierced my brain…or he's a terrible shot and missed me all three times.

I crack one eye open. I'm in January's room, but this definitely isn't heaven because she's not naked on the bed, and Kaleo's bleeding out on the floor from two gunshot wounds. One hit his cheek, the other his arm. His blood and brain matter is splattered all over the pale pink walls and pooling on the scuffed hardwood floor.

"What the fuck?" I mutter, and then something hits the floor behind me. I spin around to see January on her knees in the doorway, a little handgun at her side.

"Cade," she says as tears slip down her cheeks.

It hits me then that she shot him.

Fuck. My girl just saved my life.

She presses her hand to her stomach, pulling it away covered in blood.

The world lurches and spins in slow motion.

He fucking missed me and hit her.

"Oh, Jesus, baby. Oh, fuck me." I fall to my knees beside her, my blood roaring in my ears so loud I can't even hear myself think. My hands tremble and shake as I grab her, dragging her into my arms. "Fuck, fuck. January, please."

She's bleeding heavily from a single gunshot wound to the abdomen.

"He's gone," she says, her voice trembling. Her lips curve up in a smile as she reaches up to touch my face.

I sob her name, stumbling to my feet with her in my arms. I try to use my hand to staunch the flow of blood, but it's useless. Just like with Titan, there's too much of it.

I can't let her die, too.

I can't fucking lose her.

But I can't stop it.

I can't fucking stop it.

I had to watch my best friend die. And now I'm going to have to watch the only girl I'll ever love die, too. And just like then, there isn't a goddamn thing I can do to stop it.

"I love you," she whispers weakly, those three words piercing my soul, before she goes limp in my arms.

I feel my soul being torn from my body, rage and grief consuming me. I clutch her to me, a futile attempt to hold onto the only thing that ever made me whole, as my scream echoes through the room in a primal roar of anguish and despair.