Epilogue | Scotty

Brody's late. I've been waiting for him for over an hour. Sure, I've got a never-ending round of Challenge of Pascurus to play with Fee and Barb, but that's not nearly as fun as what I have in store for Brody. He's going to be even more surprised than when I stole some of Kincaid's sedatives, used them on Brody, and had The Wrath tattooed on his penis, much to his amusement.

"I call upon the Son of Starlight," Barb calls out like a maniac. "Champion of light, here to illuminate the darkest of darkness."

"Motherfuck," Fee says, slamming her cards on the table. "You're lucky I haven't put a bullet in your head yet. How did you even get that card?" She points at me. "The little home-wrecker sleeps with it under his pillow. I know. I've snuck in to steal it before."

"And you got exactly what you deserved because of it," I say, glaring at her.

Fee lifts her hand to flip me off, scowling when she remembers she no longer has the tips of her index or middle fingers anymore. "What kind of monster sleeps with a blade sharp enough to slice through bone under their pillow?"

"I don't judge you for your kinks, don't judge me for mine," I retort with a scowl. "You think I didn't see you yesterday? Spread eagle, flicking your bean?"

"What I do with my clitoris is none of your business."

"You were in the middle of the road," I shout in exasperation. "You made it the whole town's business!"

She just rolls her eyes and stares down at her missing fingertips. "I was across the street in front of that lovely little farmer's living room window. He was just as into it as I was. So fucking what if I like a little sun on my skin while I masturbate? I'm not the one going around stealing husbands. But you know what? Maybe I should. Maybe I'll just steal him back."

I lean in and snarl at her. "Do you want to lose your other eight fingers?"

A gun cocks in the background, and a flurry of bullets rain through the ceiling. When we turn to seek the source, Barb is holding her assault rifle toward the ceiling.

"Now, I've had quite enough of that. We don't behave like this here."

"We absolutely behave like this here. And I'm not fixing the damn roof," Fee says. "Between you and the terrorist twink in front of me, we've had to patch it four times this week alone. Honest to God, you're both out of control."

Barb opens her mouth to speak, but closes it at the sound of Brody's car drawing closer. The moment I hear his tires driving over the gravel, my heart feels like it's going to burst through my chest.

Brody's home.

Brody's home, and I'm about to take a massive leap of faith. All I can do is hope he'll catch me once I'm on the other side. I give Fee a nervous glance, but a rare smile splits her face, and she nods.

"Go on then. I've already given you my blessing."

"But you're sure it isn't going to make you?—"

"Scott," she cuts me off, her voice flat. "If you don't go out there and get him, I'm putting anthrax in your coffee."

I rush out the door, happy to see the sight of Daddy exiting the car. He walks around and pops the trunk before leaning against the side of the car and fiddling with his phone. As soon as the trunk flies open, there's a loud slapping sound.

"I swear to fucking God, if you don't stop shoving me in here every time you leave, I'm going to call the police, Abi. This is literally kidnapping," Tatum shouts before hopping out of the trunk. "You know I'm claustrophobic."

"You'd just run off," Kincaid says, hoisting himself out of the trunk. I'm not sure how comfortable it could be in there. Kincaid is stacked like a brick house, so it has to be super-close quarters.

"Can you blame me? I have friends and family back home. You can't just keep me here like a prisoner. It isn't right."

Kincaid cocks his head to the side, seeming confused. "You don't need a family. You have me. I'm your family now."

"You're my kidnapper," Tatum counters before looking to me for support. I lift my hands in surrender, because I'm not getting in the middle of one of their lover's quarrels again. Not after last time. Tatum's eyes drift back to Kincaid, watching as he pulls out a small, black pouch. "No. You're not drugging me again. There's no need to keep me sedated, you psychopath."

"But you like it. You've said so. Last night you told me there's nothing you enjoy more than waking up in my arms when the drugs are wearing off."

Tatum clears his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about." He cocks his head to the side, exposing his neck. "Fine, you absolute maniac. Let's do this. Stick me."

Kincaid eases behind Tatum and rolls his hips. "If you want me to stick you, you'll have to ask me nicely, and you'll have to ask me when you're sober." He kisses Tatum's exposed neck. "Ask and it's yours, sweetheart. My dick belongs to you, remember? That's what you said earlier, isn't it?"

Tatum's eyes bulge, and he looks over at me, shaking his head emphatically. "I have no idea what he's talking about. I don't want—ouch! Fuck!" He turns and glares at Kincaid as he pulls the syringe out of his arm. "Was that really necessary?" His legs go wobbly beneath him, and he begins to stumble, but Kincaid catches him before he falls, scooping him up in his arms and carrying him off like a little lapdog. "Put me fucking down, dammit."

"God, you're cute," Kincaid says, slapping Tatum's ass.

I take in a deep breath and try to square my shoulders. I don't know if Daddy is going to be mad at me for this or not. He hasn't seen the suit since we left Texas, so I'm hoping the sight of me all dolled up might ease a bit of his anger.

"Brody?" I whisper.

He peeks up from his phone, and there's a small spatter of blood on his cheek. It must have been a messy assignment. He'll probably need to take his leftover anger out on my balls tonight. Ever since they started their own hitman-for-hire agency, he's been busting them more and more often. I can't lie, I don't hate it. Tatum, on the other hand . . . well, he pretends to hate everything, but he's not fooling me. I see the same unhinged smile in the corner of his mouth every time Kincaid picks him up and carts him away in the middle of a conversation. The way he refuses to let him out of his sight. Hell, last week, I had to go into their cabin to grab a lead pipe to threaten Brody with and, as usual, Tatum was tied to each of the bedposts with Kincaid laying naked on top of him. The smile on my best friend's face was undeniable. He was kissing Kincaid's scalp and everything. It was adorbs.

"Freakshow?" he says, looking awestruck. "Why are you dressed like that?" He takes a step forward, but I shake my head and hold up my hand, warning him back. He cocks an eyebrow at me, but I refuse to let him derail what's taken me weeks to plan. Behind me, the door to Barb's office opens and both she and Fee join us. Kincaid and Tatum should probably be here too, but last I saw them, Kincaid was carrying him into their shared cabin. He was probably going to handcuff Tatum to the bed again, just to keep him from running. If I didn't have my own stalker psychopath of a Murder Daddy to cling to, I'd probably be super jealous right now. Doesn't matter. I've got a plan, and I'm not going to waste another minute thinking about stupid Tatum and his stupid one-sided romance. That's a story best left for another day.

Taking a step forward, I reach into my pocket and pull out a small black box. I know we've technically only been dating a little under six months, but I don't care. The heart wants what it wants.

"Brody Frost," I start, kneeling down in front of him, wincing in pain as the gravel pokes through my pants. I whimper, and then I whine, because, FUCK, that hurts. I try to hold back my sniffle. Really, I do, but I'm just a delicate, twinkish little thing with an aversion to knee pain.

Brody, red with rage, jerks me up by the elbow. "Be fucking careful," he growls at me before turning his anger on the offending rocks, kicking the spot where I was just kneeling. "Don't fucking touch him!"

"Is he threatening the life of a rock?" Barb asks no one in particular.

"I gave up trying to make sense of his madness a while ago. It's easier if you just roll with it," Fee answers.

"Can you two please shut the fuck up? I'm trying to do this, and neither of you is helping." Standing on my toes, I kiss the tip of Brody's nose. "Brody Frost. I know this is probably going to sound sudden, and you can be mad at me if you want, but I don't care."

His eyes dip down to the box in my hand, and I think it's finally clicked for him, because his eyes go wide and his mouth hangs open. For a second, I'm worried he'll say no, but I've got a plan for that too, just in case.

"And, listen, Daddy. I know we promised we were going to try to take things slow, but fuck that. I don't wanna go slow."

"Freakshow, I swear to God, if there's a ring in that box?—"

"You'll shoot me in the head. Yes, I know. Now, stop interrupting me, you big bully." Reaching down, I unzip his pants and slide my hand inside, holding his bare penis in my palm, because I kind of just need to feel it to center me. I'm thankful he's chosen to go commando, but, also, I'm kind of not, because my hand isn't all that big, and I'm pretty sure Barb and Fee can see his?—

"Good heavens," Barb says. "It's like a dang tree trunk, ain't it?"

"Who the hell are you telling?" Fee responds, knocking her shoulder against Barb's. "Been there. Rode that."

"I have to say, I don't think I'd mind giving it a test drive."

Breathing in deeply in an effort to push down the urge to threaten Barb's life, I focus my sights on Brody, squeezing his package until he winces.

"Fucking-fuck, Freakshow. What the hell?"

"No," I say, narrowing my eyes and squeezing even harder. "You're gonna marry me, Brody Frost. I'm going to ask for your hand in marriage, you're going to say yes, and then we're going to go into our cabin, and you're going to sit on my cock. Say it."

"Jesus," he grits out, wincing. "Freakshow, not in front of—they don't know I'm . . ."

"If you mean us," Barb interrupts, "Sweety, you ain't got a thing to hide. Everyone here knows you're the bottom in the relationship. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Honestly, it came as a bit of a surprise, but I like it. I think it's kind of quirky."

"Say it," I hiss. "Tell me you're mine or I'll squeeze until they burst."

"I'm yours," he squeals, sounding like a cartoon character. "Jesus, Scotty, I'll marry you. I'm yours. Just let go."

I smile at him, because it feels good to get my way. When I let go of his balls, I bring my hand to my face and lick my palm, just wanting to taste the sweat that's accumulated on him all day. It's a bit musky, just the way I like it. Holding my hand over my nose, I inhale deeply, breathing in his Daddy dick.

"You didn't have to squeeze so fucking hard."

"You were going to say no if I didn't."

He just sighs. "Obviously I wouldn't, you fucking freak."

I shake my head, because I know that's not true. I also know it doesn't matter. "It's too soon. You would turn me down unless I threatened your life." I look up at him and waggle my eyebrows. "Too late. You said yes. Everyone heard."

Before I can react, he's got his arms around my back, and he's lifting me up. I squeak a little when he shoves me against the car, resting me on top of the hood. "Is that what you think? That I'd turn you down?"

I shrug. "I mean, probably. You're notoriously problematic when it comes to matters of the heart."

He reaches up, touching my chest with the tip of his finger, drawing circles in the fabric of my suit. "This heart? Baby, this is the most precious heart in the world. You don't ever have to worry about it again. I plan on taking care of it for the rest of my life."

"You do?"

He nods and reaches for his pocket. Releasing the grip he has on me, he holds up a finger, asking me for a moment. At first, I'm scared he's going to run. He doesn't though. He just walks to the car's back door and opens it. When he pulls out a box, I cock an eyebrow at him, because the thing is huge.

"You brought me treats and trinkets?"

He glares at me. "That's the gayest fucking thing I've ever heard." A smile cracks his face. "And I love you for it." He peeks inside the small slit at the top of the box before nervously darting his eyes between its contents and me. "I have two gifts for you."

"Brody," I whine, because what did I ever do to deserve all this? "You didn't have to get me anything."

He shakes his head, patting the side of the box. "I made a promise to you, baby. The night I came to your house after the bar and tried to choke you to death."

"The night he what now?" Barb says, but no one pays her any mind.

"What's in this box won't bring her back, freak, but it might bring you peace."

My heart slams in my chest, because I think I know what's in there. "You did it?"

He smiles sheepishly, like he's worried I'm going to be mad at him. I'm not. I could never. He opens the box's flaps and stares down at its contents. "I'm going to warn you—this isn't a pretty sight. Decapitations never are."

"Brody," I say, trying to hide my sob and failing miserably.

"I swear to God, Freakshow. It was agony. They said he begged for his life for half an hour." A growl crawls up his throat as his hand forms a fist. Without warning, Brody rears his arm back and smashes it inside the box. There's a cracking sound, and I worry Daddy's just broken his fingers, but he pulls back his arm and punches into it again.

"Daddy, you don't have to?—"

"Fucking son of a bitch," he shouts, and I tremble because I'm worried he's yelling at me. He's not though. Why do I keep doubting him? Brody would never hurt me. He loves me just as much as I love him. He's just as fucking insane as I am, and I don't think that's ever going to change. I watch as he punches what I can only assume is the head of the man who killed Momma. "You don't get to hurt him." He punches the man's head again. "You don't get to look at him." Another punch. "And don't you fucking ever touch him!"

I'm not sure how a decapitated head is expected to touch me, but I love Daddy for defending my honor. He punches the head a few more times, and when he pulls his hand away, it's covered in blood. He jerks his head in my direction, his eyes narrowed into slits, chest rising and falling heavily as he palms his half-hard cock through his pants. "Wanna put this motherfucker's head into the wood chipper, out back?"

I nod as tears fall down my cheek. "Thank you." It almost feels like she's with us right now. In the distance, where the sky meets the sea, Momma's smiling down at me. "I love you so much, Brody."

He sniffles and looks away, wiping his cheek against his shirtsleeve before pulling it over his head and using it to wrap his bleeding hand, leaving me with a luscious sight of brown chest hair and muscles as strong as steel. He lifts his leg and brings his foot crashing down on the box. There's a crunch, and a pop. Good. I hope it's his eye popping out of its socket. Maybe I'll ask Daddy to stick it inside a mason jar with formaldehyde and let me keep it as a souvenir.

"He doesn't get to hurt you anymore. He doesn't get to hurt anyone." Marching forward, he slams his lips on top of mine with enough force to make me see stars. His tongue touches every inch of my mouth, and my cock hardens. When he breaks the kiss, he stares at me with an intensity that almost makes me nervous.

"What's wrong?"

"I just can't believe you thought I'd turn you down. You're my goddamn world, Scotty." He reaches his unbandaged hand into his pocket and pulls his hand out a small box of his own. When he opens the box, there are two small white pills inside. I'm a little surprised, because I kind of thought there might be a ring in there, but that's okay. I don't need a ring, there are two inside my box already.

"What are those?" I ask, pointing at the pills.

He smirks at me. "Arsenic. And I swear to fucking God, Freakshow, if you even think of leaving me at the altar, I'll shove one in your mouth and one in mine. You fucking hear me? I'm not playing with you. You're gonna fucking marry me, or I'm gonna fucking kill you and everyone you love."

"Yes!" I say, lunging forward and smashing my lips against his. "Yes, Brody. Marry me. Fuck me. Kill me, I don't give a shit, Daddy. Just . . . yes. Yes to all of it."

He chuckles softly, bringing his mouth to my ears, speaking words that are only meant to me. "You know I'd never actually kill you, right, babe?"

I nod. "It's just our little game of Murder Daddy. You won't stop playing it once we're married, will you? Because it's probably my favorite thing ever." Pulling away, I force a mean expression. "You will continue to threaten my life, or I'll shove my entire fist up your ass when we go inside. Understood?"

He grinds his growing bulge against my thigh and growls. "Gonna kill you so fucking hard, baby."

I bite my bottom lip and try to hold back my smile. "Promises, promises, Daddy."

The End