29. BUNNY

The bedroom, again, became our sanctuary after that night. For days, we didn't creep out of the safety of our darkness. Wrapped in each other"s arms, we lay beneath blankets, ignoring Susie's occasional call from outside the door. The only break in our confinement is late at night when we sneak out and steal the stale bread and browned fruit left out all day. We didn't have to resort to scraps. Cade and I stole enough money from Nathan and Colette to afford whatever we wanted, but that was it. We wanted nothing but each other.

Our moans, laughs, and heavy words of remembrance are the only sounds we hear for a while.

And then I made the mistake of turning on the news.

Seven days had gone by since Colette and Nathan, a week for them to be found and for the news of their murder to break and die down. I hoped to turn on the television after seven days and see nothing. Instead, I see us.

"Authorities continue searching on Tuesday for a young man and woman suspected in last week"s double homicide on Park Avenue. The medical examiner's office identified the two victims killed as Nathan Alexander McDermot, 40, and Colette Renee Sulivan, 33. Both victims were found deceased in their upscale Manhattan apartment?—"

Poorly drawn but enough to be recognizable, I gape at the police sketches done of me and Cade as the news anchor reads out our descriptions. I mouth the warning at the bottom of the screen, scanning it twice before calling Cade back into bed from the bathroom.

"What happened?" he asks, hard, scarred body bare while his wet curls drip down his face.

I have no words. I can only point.

"Investigators don't yet know the motive behind the June 14th slaughter in the Upper East Side of Manhattan's Historic District. The victims" families are distraught over the news, claiming the two were beloved by all. McDermot comes from a long line of investment bankers, and Sulivan was a renowned photographer with many successful galleries across the state."

"Holy shit," Cade mumbles, eyes wide on the screen. Rising on my knees, I press my naked chest into his wet spine, needing to feel him while our lives fall apart yet again.

"The two suspects were last seen driving a 1975 white Ford convertible with a chipped bumper and the license plate number N7LT687. If you see these two, authorities have advised you not to confront them. They are considered armed and dangerous. Police asked anyone with information on their whereabouts to call them at 555-265-5243 or to submit an anonymous tip at 555-0010."

Jumping from the mattress, Cade powers off the television. I watch our reflection in the black glass, seeing nothing set in the stoic lines of his face. In mine, I reimagined the image of our faces drawn out on national television—our wanted poster for the world to see.

"Shit," I hiss, as my head drops into the center of my palms. Clawing at my scalp, I berate myself for being so stupid, for being so fucking careless! I wanted them dead so bad I didn't even think! "I didn't even think…"

"We gotta go. Now." Slipping into some loose jeans and a thick brown crewneck sweater, Cade begins to run through the room, tossing everything he can onto the bed.

Flinging some clothes in my direction, Cade orders, "Get dressed. We're going."

"Where are we going to go?" I ask, throwing a blue V-neck knitted sweater over my head. He's too busy gathering all he can in oversized black trash bags to answer.

"Cade."

"Bunny, I don't know. I don't know!" He paces the space beside me. "But we can't stay here! They have the car. They have our faces! How long before they find us? Huh? They can't find us here. We can't do that to Susie."

"I know," I agree, pulling thick black cargo pants over my legs. "But where do we go? What do we do with the car?"

"There are tons of alleys. We'll drop it in one, and when they find it, Susie will report it stolen."

"And then what?" I ask, shoving what remains in the last bag we have.

"And then…" He stalls, inhaling until his face drains of all color. "And then I don't know… I don't know, Bun. I didn't think this far. I just wanted you to be safe."

Thick, heavy tears fall from my lashes when I see him break apart. Down on his knees, he falls onto the carpet, folding with his head pressed to the edge of the mattress. He makes no sound, but wails rack his body, and I'm reminded just how old we are. I see him now, not as Blade—the killing machine Marone made at eighteen—but as a nineteen-year-old forced to survive.

A kid.

"Hey," I mumble through the tightened muscles of my throat, cradling his head gently between two hands. He tries to hide the tears by ripping himself out of my hold, but I only grasp tighter, crawling into his lap. With my spine pressed against the bed, I mold myself to Cade.

"We're going to be fine. I promise we're going to be fine! We just need to get out of here, and then we'll be fine." I keep repeating it, hoping it'll make it true.

Wrapping tense, bulging muscles around my back, Cade embraces me until I'm out of breath. I let him. I let him have it all so he breathes easier. When his exhales aren't so shaky, and his heartbeat calms beneath my touch, Cade lifts his head, face made of stone, eyes broken—but ready.

Lips against mine, he vows, "I got you."

"Until the end."

* * *

"Now what?"

"I'm sorry," is all I have the strength to say as Cade and I race out of the building. Susie, so fucking stubborn, darts after us, catching up quickly enough when we stop in the alley at the front of the car.

Wrapping long, scarlet red nails around my wrist, she yanks me out of Cade's grip. He checks back to make sure I'm okay before throwing the two full trash bags into the backseat.

"What's going on? What did you two do?"

"What they deserved," Cade snarls, amped up, ripping the license plates from the car. Ready for a fight.

Holding my hand out, I motion for him to calm down with a stern expression. When I see that he has and is backing away, I reluctantly face Susie, sick at the thought of disappointing the only woman who's ever cared for me. When I look into her crazed, nervous stare, it isn't displeasure I see. It's sadness.

Worry.

Taking her hands into mine, I press them against my chest, wishing she could see how much fuller she's made my heart. "Thank you so much," I mutter through my trembling. "None of this will fall back on you. None of this. I swear."

"Honey, I don't care about that," she reassures, eyes blinking away the tears. "What about you? You two need to stop this and go. Go far away from here and live."

"We will," I stammer, looking back at Cade. "After."

Anger replaces the tears that were just about to fall when she says my name. "Bernice." I flinch as if she struck me, unused to the word. "This is stupid! You two are going to get yourselves caught, or worse."

"You know what they did," I remind her, as I flash her my scars. Pointing so Cade can display his as well. "They need to be punished for what they did to us. For what they're still doing to others!"

Shushing me when I get too loud, Susie glances around the back street, looking for any stray witnesses. When she's comfortable that there are none, she continues, "I understand that, and I agree. No one deserves to die more than they do?—"

"Yes! So you see?—"

"But not by you," she breathes, the sadness returning. "Or you." She points to Cade. "Let the police handle this. You two have done enough."

"No." Stepping in, Cade removes one hand from me and takes Susie's for his own, holding it as tenderly as a son does for the only mother he's ever had. "I was his pawn for years. I did…fucking awful things—things that will never leave me, for years. I'm going to kill him, Susie. And then everyone is going to know what he and the others did to us. They're going to know because of me. They're going to know because of her!"

I hear the break in his voice, but when I look up, gazing across his features, he remains strong and still. Cade won't fall apart in front of Susie. He needs her to see him as the same untouchable, cold man who walked in the rain through her doors and not as the fractured boy I held in the room. That was just for me. I carry that little piece of him in my chest, fitting it in the spaces between my shattered heart.

Understanding that she can't change our minds, she hands us a wad of cash that was shoved into her back pocket. I take it timidly before she pulls us both into a bone-crushing hug. For a minute, we just sink into her, absorbing the safety of her love because we don't know if we'll ever get it back.

"We left something for you," I whimper into her ear. "It's in the bathroom, beneath the sink." It took no question, no hesitation for Cade and I to leave her a substantial portion of the money we'd stolen. There was plenty for us, at least for us to get away.

This was all we could give her—the only thing we could do to repay her for everything she's done for us.

We move to pull out of her embrace, needing to get going, but she holds us firm, eyes confused by my last statement, but she doesn't ask, instead whispering her final plea in our ears. "Just go, babies, or you're going to regret it."

Sniffling, she lets us go, knowing there is no stopping what we're going to do. Arms folded over a heaving chest, tears finally streaming, Susie watches us drive off, her broken look matching ours.

I can't stop myself from crying, though I try to keep it as concealed as I can, but Cade notices almost instantly. These past few weeks, he's memorized every sound I make and studied all the movements of my muscles. Cade has explored my ins and outs. Every inch of me is stamped with his touch, with his kiss. Cade knows me, and I know him. There is no hiding.

Taking nothing but the back roads, Cade drags me across the center and lays me in his lap. My tears soak through his jeans in an instant. Knowing it won't work, I try to dry them with a wipe of my sleeve, annoyed that it does, in fact, not do a damn thing.

"It's okay. Leave it," Cade says, taking my hand off his thigh to press it against his lips.

"I'm sorry," is all I can choke out. I'm sorry for crying. I'm sorry for the situation we're in. I'm sorry that we didn't run when we got out…that I had the idea to get them back—that you loved me enough to follow.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asks, glancing down underneath his arm.

For it allis what I don't have the strength to say, but he knows it anyway. Of course, he does.

"I would have done it for you anyway, Bun. I would do anything."