Page 33 of Fast Kill

“You gonna call it in as soon as I leave?” Even if she did, he had plenty of time to get away. He’d go to one of his underground connections and lie low for a day or two until some decisions had been made.

“I have to tell them. You coming here tonight forced my hand. It’s my job and my reputation on the line otherwise, and I already lied once to protect you.”

Fondness and pride filled him at the news. She’d still been loyal to him, tried to protect him even after all this time. “I’m touched.”

“Well don’t be. It almost got me put on probation, and I won’t do it again.”

“Not even if it saved my life?”

A tiny frown appeared in the center of her forehead, and he could see the worry she was trying to hide. Concern for him, even after everything he’d done. He didn’t deserve to have her in his life. Never had.

“Dillon, what…” She stopped and drew in a deep breath, regret clear on her face. “I can’t help you now. I just can’t.”

Out of nowhere, loneliness arrowed him straight in the chest. “I know.”

Her gaze was steady on his, full of regret. “You can’t come back here.”

“I know. But I couldn’t leave without at least saying goodbye properly.” He gave a humorless chuckle.

Last time he’d left her, he hadn’t had time to say goodbye. That had bothered him for a long time, almost as much as the feeling that he’d deserted her in that house with that bastard before Janet had stepped in and pulled her out of there.

“Even in the old days when things were shitty and we had nothing, we still had each other, didn’t we?”

Her smile was as sad as her eyes. “Yes.”

“And we always stood up for each other. No matter what, we were loyal to each other right until the end.”

She lowered her gaze. “Yeah.” Now her voice was barely above a murmur.

Despite what she may think of him and his choices, he still cared about her. Hell, he still loved her in his own way. She’d been the sister he’d never had, and the only person in the world he’d trusted. None of that mattered any more, though.

A painful stab of grief ripped through him, so intense it stole his breath for a moment. He should be used to loss by now. But Taylor was the only glimmer of light in his dark past. Losing her meant losing the only remaining link to his humanity.

He cleared his throat. “Well. I’d better get a head start before you call the cops.”

They stood there facing each other across the space of the silent kitchen, and even from where he stood he saw the sheen of tears behind the lenses of her glasses. “Can I get a hug goodbye?” he asked softly, letting his gaze rove over every part of her face, so he could memorize every last detail of it.

She pressed her lips together and pulled in a deep breath, then nodded. He met her halfway and pulled her into a tight hug. To his surprise, she clung to him, face pressed into his chest just as she’d done when things had been really bad in their foster home. The second one for her, and one of many for him.

“Will you promise me something?”

She stiffened. “What?” she asked, a note of suspicion creeping into her voice.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Did she sense how final this was? “Promise me you’ll remember me the way I was back then. Before I left.” It had killed him to leave her in that house alone, but he’d had to go. The people after him would have hurt her to punish him.

Her hair rubbed against his lips as she nodded. “Okay.”

One more kiss to the top of her head, then he released her and walked out the front door without looking back. She didn’t follow him. But he knew her well enough to trust that she’d give him at least a small head start. If he had to guess, he had maybe five minutes, tops, before she made the call that would launch a manhunt to capture him.

As he walked down the front steps, a painful constriction in his ribcage made it hard to breathe. Some part of him wanted to stop there on the front walkway. Wanted to run back inside and beg for her forgiveness, whisk her out of the country to make sure she was safe and somehow make things right again.

You can’t. It’s too late now. For both of you.

Sick to his stomach, he forced himself to keep walking.

After slipping around the side of the house and melting into the shadows, he hugged the fence line between Taylor’s house and the neighbor on the corner, and jogged the two blocks to the rental car he’d left. He drove around the block once to make sure no one was following him, then doubled back through her neighborhood.

Just as he neared her street, a white pickup turned the corner, heading toward him. Dillon squinted in the glare of the headlights, his jaw clenching as he read the license plate. The same one that had pulled into Taylor’s driveway last night.

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