Page 111 of The Butterfly Killer

He pressed harder than Marcus had, seething as the pain no doubt hit him like a thousand knives all over again. “I know what to do.”

Marcus nodded, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

He grabbed the end of the bed sheets and tore through them. He teared two long strips and went about tying them around Roman’s legs, above each stab wound.

Roman cried out as Marcus tightened them.

“You have to go.”

Marcus’s ears rang. “What?”

Roman panted. He looked like he was getting worse. “You have to go. They’re going to come back eventually.”

He pushed the gun into Marcus’s chest. He didn’t take it.

“No,” he pleaded.

Roman shook his head with a sad smile. “We got what we wanted. You don’t have to pretend with me anymore.”

Marcus felt like he was being torn in two. He reached for Roman’s hand and he could have cried with joy when Roman didn’t pull his away.

“I told you already, I’m not pretending. I’ll stay with you. We’re going to be saved.”

“And after that?” Roman laughed without humor. “Baby, I killed those women. I did it to piss him off. There’s no mental gymnastics you can do to justify that.”

Marcus couldn’t argue. He knew he was looking at a man who’d done horrible things, that would spend the rest of his life behind bars if he survived today.

But Marcus couldn’t argue with his own fucked up heart. As cliche as it sounded, he couldn’t help who he’d fallen for.

Before either of them could argue more about their side or make a choice, the door to the pool house opened.

Marcus snatched the gun from Roman’s hand. He ran to the bedroom door?—

“Careful, officer. You’ll put someone’s eye out with that thing.”

Marcus halted when a gun aimed at his head and the gun in his shaking hands wasn’t even close to being at Miguel’s nephew’s chest. Roman’s cousin.

Marcus lowered the gun. The nephew held his hand out.

Marcus thought about his options. He could try to go for the nephew’s gun but it was a long shot. He’d be dead the second he moved.

So, really, he didn’t have any options.

He handed the gun over. There was relief in having it out of his hands though he was now unarmed.

“Where is he?”

Marcus pointedly looked at Miguel. Or what was left of him. He didn’t look much like himself anymore.

The nephew tutted. “Not him. Roman. Don’t play dumb. I know you’re smarter than you look.”

Marcus let the insult roll off his back. “Bedroom.”

He knew the nephew would get it out of him eventually and if Marcus pissed him off, it would only end up worse for both of them.

The nephew gave a handsome smile that drastically changed his hostile resting face. His mother must have been a supermodel because he definitely didn’t get his looks from his father.

“Don’t look so worried. I’m here to help,” the nephew said as he grabbed Marcus’s arm and steered him back from where he’d come from.

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