Page 103 of Any Means Necessary

“I mean, he’s not exactly who I pictured you ending up with. Callum is slightly terrifying,” Mia admits, and I can’t disagree. “But if anyone deserves to be doted on by a super rich, hot, bearded guy with tattoos and a private jet—it’s you.”

Meeting her eyes I can see that she means it, her words warming my heart. Damn, I miss this woman. How can I go back to New York without her?

Giving her a grateful smile, we settle into a comfortable silence. I lift one half of the hearty sandwich and nudge the container over for her to eat the other half. And just like that, we’re simply two best friends sharing a meal in our quiet place.

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Callum

The voice of the newscaster is the only sound in the apartment, and the silence itches under my skin. Lexie sits on the other end of the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. She’s too damn far away from me, physically and emotionally. Since our fight she’s barely glanced in my direction, and it’s driving me insane. The stress of her sister’s health only adds distance between us. When I want to pull her in closer, she’s pushing me away.

We’ve spent the last three days at the hospital so Lexie could spend time with her sister and best friend. And I just watched Lexie. I watched her get to know her sister’s new boyfriend, Noah. I watched her talk and laugh with her long distance best friend—seeing them together has me deciding that there are more trips to Oregan in the future. And I watch the tormented look in her eyes when she looks at me and remembers what I did—and who I am.

The only moment of intimacy we’ve had since coming to Astoria was the first night we spent in her apartment. Standing in the kitchen of her cozy two-bedroom, the emotional exhaustion of the last few days had overwhelmed her. When she started to cry, she turned into my arms and let me hold her while she sobbed into my chest.

I can’t deny that I felt relieved—because in that moment, I knew it’s not over. Not for either of us.

Not much can scare me, it takes a lot to get me rattled. But fear had crept through me, bitter and cold, when Lexie had closed that bedroom door on me. The knot of dread that formed in my chest that day never really left, and I have a sinking feeling it won’t be gone until she’s forgiven me.

But it didn’t last long. After a few minutes, when the tears slowed and reality set back in, Lexie had removed herself from my arms and shoved me back into no-man’s land where all I can do is wait and watch. Every minute that passes is an exercise for my control as I fight my compulsive need to be close to her, to know what she’s thinking. Respecting her need for space is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

A familiar name scrolls across the tv screen, pulling my focus from the woman I love, back to the news. “The Astoria Police Department were stunned when a person of interest was dumped on their doorstep in what they’re calling a vigilante style justice.”

The weasel’s face spears below his name when they display his mugshot. If it wasn’t important to Lexie that asshole would be dead, or worse, not in police custody.

Tracking down the man responsible for putting Samantha in the hospital was only a matter of finding the right surveillance cameras. The police report had listed an apartment complex parking lot as the location of the theft where Terence forced a woman out of her parked car. Gaining access to the security footage was as easy as yanking that weasel-faced lowlife out of that dingy dive bar after tracking the stolen credit card he’d taken from the same car.

Terence Bexler was given to the authorities without a few of his teeth, but with all of his organs still intact—something Roscoe is still pouting about. Stopping my enforcer from taking off a few of the asshole’s fingers was also a hard sell, but he restrained himself.

For Lexie.

The female newscaster continues, broadcasting the story in her over-enunciated tone.

“Terence Bexler, thought to be responsible for a carjacking turned hit-and-run that resulted in a local young woman being hospitalized, was found cuffed in a holding cell at the Astoria police department when the building was being opened for the morning.” There’s movement on the couch next to me when Lexie perks up and puts down her phone to listen.

“Wait, that’s Samantha’s car,” Lexie comments when a video of the crash site plays on the screen beside the news anchor's head.

“Along with the suspected car-jacker were boxes of information and what the police believe is evidence of Bexler’s alleged crimes.” The brunette woman on the screen continues. “The department cannot comment on the case, as it is ongoing.”

“That’s him?” she says in disbelief, glancing in my direction without really seeing me. “It’s done, someone caught the carjacker that hit my sister.”

“You don’t have to worry, Dewdrop. There’s enough evidence in those boxes to put him away for several lifetimes,” I assure her. It takes a few seconds for my words to sink in and drag her eyes away from the tv.

“Wait, how do you know?” Lexie turns to face me. I look at her, gazing meaningfully into her eyes, and I see the moment it clicks for her. “You found him. What did you do?”

“What I’m good at,” I reply simply. “I fixed it.” The surprise that lights her pretty face quickly shifts to wariness.

“How did you fix it?” She’s smart to worry. But, luckily for my pretty pink nurse, I didn’t use my usual tactics to get Terence. Lexie hates violence on her behalf, so I practiced a little restraint… this time.

“The bastard will be charged for his crimes and given the maximum sentence.” It’s all been arranged. If the explicitly incriminating evidence I provided isn’t enough, I’ve ensured that the local justice system is rigged in our favor. Bexler’s not getting away from this.

“So…he’s going to prison?”

“He’s going to prison for a long time, Dewdrop.” Seeing that she’s still unconvinced, I concede to her expectant stare. “He’s missing a few teeth, but he’ll be walking into the courtroom on his own two feet. All limbs still attached.”

“What’s in the boxes?”

“Everything except a confession. But with the mountain of evidence, I’m sure the Astoria police won’t have any trouble getting it,” I reply.

“Why?” The way Lexie’s looking at me, tells me that her question has nothing to do with the confession.

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