Page 49 of Killing Emma

But now I’ve been ruined.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Luca

“Well, this is one way to fix the complication,” I mutter to myself, as life drains from Manny’s eyes. Emma is shocked and shivering somewhere behind me, but I had to use what I had on hand, and quite frankly, I feel a little better balanced now.

I no longer have to worry about Manny getting his money. Though, I doubt Ivan will be happy with Manny missing lunch next week—or that he’s dead in general.

I’ll deal with it later.

I consider pulling my good screwdriver out of his neck, but it’s probably better to leave it. This isn’t a mess I can call in for help with. Ivan has too many connections to them. If he decides to go on a rampage looking for Manny, I don’t want them to lead him to my doorstep.

I blow out a sharp breath, stand to my feet, and turn to Emma. “This is my partner, Manny.” Her eyes are wide, and her lips part but nothing comes out. “I need to step out and make a phone call.”

She nods. “O-Okay.”

I can see the terror written all over her face, and I know he touched her—but I don’t know the extent. I’ll have to deal with that after I get Manny out of my basement. It’s been a really fucking long time since I’ve had to do my own clean up, but thankfully, unlike some, Victor made me spend five years on a clean-up crew.

And there’s only one other person who’s been graced with the same experience that I might be able to trust.

“What?” Jude answers the phone on the second ring.

“I need you to come here.”

A few beats of silence follow, and then finally…

“I’ll leave now.”

I hang up the phone, and then turn to Emma. The back of her shirt is soaked in blood, and her eyes are focused on Manny. Her eyes flicker back to mine, and there, amid the blue, I see distrust.

“I need you to undress.” I keep my voice even. I’ve never coached someone through something like this. It’s easier to eliminate witnesses, but now that I’ve killed my partner of over a decade, Emma will fucking live. The deal has been sealed.

“I-I-I,” she stutters, her teeth chattering. Clearly, she’s never seen someone murdered in cold-blooded rage.

“Undress,” I repeat myself. “I want you to clean up before my help arrives. You need to shower and change.”

“I don’t have any other clothes.” Her voice is blank, emotionless, and she’s back to deadpanning.

“I have clothes for you, Emma. Strip down and take a shower.”

She doesn’t move. I swallow the irritation burning in my chest as I approach her, reaching for the bottom of her blouse. She jumps back.

Okay, I’ve scared her. She’ll get over it.

I reach for her again, and this time, she stumbles back so hard she falls to the floor Major slinks out of the way and then goes to her.

“Emma,” I warn her. “I need you to do as I say.”

Shaking, she meets my gaze. “Are you… Are you going to…?”

I furrow my brow. “What?” I offer my hand to help her up, and she looks at me like I’m about to stab her. What kind of fucking shock is this? I just want the woman to get out of the bloody clothes so I can add them to my own pile.

“He touched me.”

I start to see red again at the thought of what I stumbled upon, but I shove it back down. It’s done now. I’ve made my first kill from rage in a long time, and it felt so fucking good that I’m concerned for myself—but I can deal with that another day. Emma will never catch my wrath. Just anyone who looks at her wrong, probably.

“He touched me,” she repeats the words, this time louder than before.

---