Page 67 of Resist Me Not
Leaving Walker, still with my wallet in one hand and a large bloody kitchen knife in the other. Apparently, a doctor knows well how to aim for the heart, because the detective isn’t even twitching when I open the door and look down at his body.
Walker in the kitchen with the knife.
And just like Mother, he did it for me.
Chapter eighteen
WALKER
“Whose wallet is this, Doctor Hammond?”
Fuck!
“Mine,” I lie—too freaked, too obviously and completely guilty. “I needed a new one.”
“This doesn’t look brand-new to me. May I take a look?”
“No.” Oh God, why do I suck at this? I can feel the need to use my inhaler rising with my panic.
“And why not?” Detective Clancy is totally going to look inside it, and then everything is fucked, because he’ll know Trey is hiding. “I assume it’s empty if it’s new.”
Only it isn’t because it’s Trey’s and he’s still carrying around the photo of me that he took from Curtis, which might not meananything to the detective without me explaining, but it doesn’t help.
“Maybe I’m in the market for a new one myself—”
“It’smine.” I grab it off the counter. What else can I do? What the fuck do I do? “And I already have sensitive things in here, so—”
“Mr. Fisher!” Detective Clancy calls, turning away from me and heading straight toward Trey in the closet like he already knows he’s in there. Shit! “Best if you come out now!”
He’s armed. He has a gun, and you just know he’s the type to be quick on the draw. Meanwhile, Trey is completely helpless in there, crammed into the closet all because I panicked from the start with no choice now but to—what? Tackle the guy? It’s all going to end in disaster if it gets to that point. It’ll cause too much noise, draw attention from the neighbors, the gun might even go off and hit one of us.
I’m not thinking, Ican’tthink, I just act—and pull out the largest kitchen knife from my wood block, moving swiftly up behind the detective. He’s wearing his fedora but not a jacket. There will be little resistance where I need to aim, and I know exactly where that needs to be.
“This will all be easier for you both if—”
I could have killed a bear with how forcefully I stab him, still not thinking, barely breathing. He doesn’t even cry out, just stiffens, flails back with both hands as if trying to grab the knife, but it doesn’t matter if it’s pulled out now, so I yank it free with a sickening twist.
He drops. He just drops. And I know he’s already dead.
I killed him.
Trey opens the laundry door, practically leaping over the detective’s body like he anticipates needing to catch me. I don’t know how I stay standing. I don’t know how I don’t feel likepanicking. I don’t know how I’m breathing again like I didn’t just alter the course of my life forever.
“Oh, Walker, you werewonderful.” Trey says it hushed and husky like he has never been more enamored with me. He takes his wallet from my left hand and tosses it to the floor. Then he wraps his left hand around my right that is still holding the knife, like he’s cradling it lovingly in both of our grasps. “You needn’t worry about a thing, my dear, brave,goodboy. I will take care of everything. But thank you,thank youfor taking care of me.”
My eyes that were staring blankly shift sharply to Trey’s face. That’s what I did, isn’t it? I was taking care of him. Protecting him. Protectingus. And not only for my sake. Or even our sakes. Because we both help people, don’t we? I did the right thing.
Didn’t I?
“I will take care of the body. I will take care of everything,” Trey repeats, “but please,please, my good boy, my darling doctor, my Walker… let me take care of you.”
He is hard against my thigh. He is as rock solid as I have ever felt him. And though my eyes drift over his shoulder to the body oozing blood from the wound I inflicted, I know I want what Trey is offering. I want him to take care of me. I want him to take care of everything.
So I don’t have to think for a while.
“Please…” is all I say in answer, and Trey lifts me onto the island.
The knife is still in my hand—ourhands—which Trey pins to the countertop as he lays me back. I let go of it, and he slides it further up and away, contaminating more of the surface, but that doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter—he’ll take care of it. He’ll take care of everything.
