Page 81 of Red My Lips

I killed him.

I stay there for a moment as the adrenaline courses through me—my hand on the knife that took Tommy’s last heartbeat, blood dripping down my arm. I’m sure I’m covered in it.

My brother’s blood.

Seconds stretch into minutes as I allow my body to calm and take stock of how I’m feeling. Once the high of the adrenaline wears off, the sense of power remains. It’s sweet, with a bitter aftertaste that might never go away.

This kill feels different.

Out of all of the men I’ve killed, this one feels more final. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. The weight of my brother’s disappearance, the heaviness of who he was in my life. Now that’s all gone, leaving something new settling through me.

Freedom.

My eyes drift closed and the ghost of a smile crosses my face as the sensation flows over me. I soak in the sense of peace and calm, so potent and comforting that quiets my mind—until the deep voice speaks.

“Are you okay, baby?” My eyes snap open to clash with the man gazing at me intently.

Gage hasn’t moved an inch while I’ve been reveling, his eyes fixed solely on me as he holds my now dead brother. His words slap me back to reality, and my fiery emotions kick back into gear. The passionate look in his dark eyes drill me with so many turbulent feelings until I’m overwhelmed.

And just like that, the peace is gone.

“Don’t think that this just fixes everything between us,” I snap, yanking the knife from the dead man. Gage doesn’t seem the least bit put off by my remark.

“But there is an us,” he states, like it’s the only thing he cares about. I don’t have the energy to argue with him about this right now. At least, that’s the excuse I’ll be giving him if he presses the matter because I don’t currently know how I feel about him or where we stand.

“I can’t do this right now.”

Gage releases his hold on the body and quietly lowers it onto the floor. There’s blood everywhere, and one glance down at me confirms my early assumptions. Gage takes a step closer and looks tempted to touch me, but he refrains. Just barely.

“Go take a shower, and leave your clothes and the knife in the tub. I’ll get things cleaned up in here.” Gage speaks as if he’s just about to do a load of dishes instead of disposing of a body. The gentleness in his voice is startling, and it makes my chest ache.

I nod and turn towards the doorway, but Gage steps into my path and forces my eyes to meet his. “Don’t leave this house. I’ll find you, you know I will. I’ll always find you.”

I don’t bother refraining from rolling my eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

“Jill.” The authority in his commanding tone has my heart doing damn near cartwheels as I meet his eyes again.

“I won’t leave,” I say more seriously. I don’t plan on going anywhere, at least not tonight. It would be pointless anyway. I don’t have another escape plan in place. And I’m not dumb enough to think I could shake my shadow so easily a second time.

Gage holds my gaze for a moment, trying to decide if he can believe me. The muscle in his clenched jaw ticks tellingly when he finally steps back and allows me to pass. I look down at the body lying on the floor as I leave the room one last time.

I won’t miss Tommy. I know I’ll see him again.

In hell.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jill

I hold my head under the spray of the shower head long after the suds are gone. The hot water ran out three washes ago, leaving nothing but the cold to rain down on me as I scrub away any remnants of what I’ve done. I’ve already scrubbed every inch of myself clean three times over, and my hair has been shampooed and conditioned four times. But it doesn’t feel like enough.

I want no part of Tommy or his death touching me. After I leave this house, I don’t plan on thinking about him ever again. He doesn’t deserve to reside in my head, cross my lips, or stain my hands. I might let him red my lips, but that’s for me. Not him.

After tonight, I’ll finally be free of him. Of his habits, his incessant neediness, and his greed. No more questions about him will plague me while I’m falling asleep, and the compulsive familial urge to help him disappeared with the light in his eyes when I extinguished it.

I won’t be mourning Tommy Hart. No one will.

Reaching for the faucet, I turn off the water. Pulling back the shower curtain, a gasp of surprise escapes me at the man silently standing a few feet away.

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