Page 91 of Alfie: Part Two

“I didn’t kill them, baby. I did them a fucking favor.” He fisted the hair at the back of my head to keep me in place, and hepressed a firm kiss to the corner of my mouth. “It’s over now—and I could never hate you.”

“You shot them,” I whimpered.

“I’m sure they’ll send me a thank-you note from hell.”

I sniffled and couldn’t bear it; the pressure in my chest grew so fast and painfully that my knees nearly gave out. I bent over and planted my hands on my thighs, and it became a matter of life and death to suck air into my lungs. Holy fuck, what was happening to me? My skin prickled uncomfortably, and I started seeing black spots.

Was someone sitting on my fucking chest?

I heard the shots echoing in my head, and my fucked-up brain decided now was the best time to replay the moment West had shot Jakov and Luka. I’d just seen his arm lifting a bit. He’d taken the gun from his coat pocket or something. Cool as a cucumber, two shots,pop-pop, the exploding sound, two men dead. Right there in the forehead. No hesitation, no missing, no trembling.

Breathe, baby. Breathe in through your nose.

I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t.

The edges of my vision became darker and darker, and a dizzy spell sent me to the floor. Or maybe West had lowered me to it. Fuck, he’d walked me backward too. We were closer to the wall.

Follow my voice, Alfie. Feel the tap on your shoulder? Breathe in.

I managed to suck in a mouthful of air, though I kind of choked on it. But an involuntary shiver helped me focus on a gentle tapping on my shoulder blade, and I poured all my focus into it. I felt the calm rhythm.

I was breathing again before I actually knew it; I just noticed that my heart wasn’t racing as quickly anymore, and the panic was fading little by little.

Tap, tap, tap.

Exhale.

They were dead. A part of me wanted to get angry, because I hadn’t fucking finished. Luka had barely suffered at all. And yet, it felt so goddamn freeing. They were history.

It allowed me to see clearer too. I’d always hate not being able to keep my loved ones safe at all hours of the day, but it wasn’t really feasible, was it? Make no mistake—West and I would keep paying for security for my mother when she was out on her own, at least past dark. Which would amount to what, three or four hours a week? Besides, she lived her life on a strict schedule. So that was happening. Dad would happily take a photo for me of her weekly planner. He was on my side.

But there would always be a risk. Even more so when our kids grew up.

I drew a deep breath through my nose and leaned against West’s touch. He was down on one knee next to me, still tapping me gently on the back.

We weren’t alone in the room with the dead guys anymore. Bran and Kellan were doing something with Jakov and Luka—untying them, maybe. Other movement too. I saw Finn and Shan from the corner of my eye.

“Justice has been served,” West murmured.

I nodded and stared at my bloodied hands. Yeah, maybe. Probably.

“I can’t believe you shot them,” I mumbled. “I hope you didn’t use the guns you used to compete with when you were young.”

“Younger, you mean?”

“Sure.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “No, I didn’t. I used yours. The unregistered one.”

Oh. That was good.

As Finn would love to point out, I hadn’t been smart enough to bring it with me. In my defense, I’d left in a hurry. I wasn’t always walking around armed, even though Kellan wanted me to.

“Finn said I had two brain cells battling for third place,” I muttered. “He’s mean.”

“Two seems generous.”

Whoa. I peered up at him, all bleary-eyed and probably looking like shit, but that was uncalled for.

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