Page 260 of Remy

“He’s been watching the funeral home,” she says in a rush. “He said he’s seen me coming and going at night. He’s even taken note of how many funeral notices have been placed on our website and tallied the amount of times the retort has been used. He knows the numbers don’t add up.”

He knew.

The stupid fuck doesn’t know anything about anyone anymore.

I’m just not sure how to break that to Ollie without having her cast me out of her life again.

“What should I do?” Those eyes implore me, the beauty in those hazel depths making me protective as fuck.

I don’t want to lose her again. But I’ll be damned if I continue keeping things from her.

“He’s not going to be a problem, Ollie.” I keep my hands where they are—one on the sofa cushion, the other lazily pressed to the low of her back. If she runs, I won’t stop her, despite knowing I’ll never recover.

She sits taller, her gaze scrutinous. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

She drags in a slow breath, her mind working a mile a minute behind those beautiful irises.

I let her digest the implication, my pulse thrumming, my fear of her leaving growing with every silent second.

She’ll be my undoing. I’ll become a crazed madman haunted with my need for her. I’ll never sleep. Never eat. Never function.

Living will be dying.

“Okay,” she whispers.

I frown. “Okay?”

She swallows. Nods. “Yeah, okay. He was a horrible person. Maybe not worthy of death, but worth doesn’t seem to be a currency this world cares about.” She settles back into me, resting her cheek to my shoulder. “I knew the bed I was making when I inserted myself into the agreement you made with my father. I’m a big enough girl to lay in it.”

Heat builds beneath my ribs. Fucking pride.

I turn my face toward her and place a kiss to her hair.

She’s one of us now.

“Does that make me a bad person?” she whispers.

“It makes you a realist. Nothing is fair in this life, and you don’t have to look far to see it. Criminal convictions are determined based on skin color, race, or bank balance. Entire countries starve while others are gluttonous. Wars are started for profit. Sex trafficking is one of the biggest growing industries.”

She flinches. “Are you?—”

“No.” I cut her off. “I’d never play a part in that. But the cartel sure as hell do.”

Those sick fucks have streamlined their business model. It’s why I give no shits about killing them.

She relaxes again, her retreats from anxiety becoming quicker and easier. I hope one day soon she won’t have anxiety about me at all.

“So you’re kinda like Batman,” she muses. “Living in the shadows. Taking down the bad guys.”

I snicker. “You forgot the part where I earn millions from illegal drugs.”

She shrugs. “I’m still going to role-play it in my mind for a while. Let me live my fantasy.”

That warmth beneath my ribs increases.

Here I sit, surrounded by grief and regret, yet I’m unbelievably happy with this woman. “Out of all the fantasies in the world, you’re doubling down on a Batman remix?”

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