Page 60 of My End
“I’ll stay. I’ve still got evidence to gather, but I think my time’s almost up. The stuff I’ve got will put them away for twenty years minimum. I was working on tying them to a few murders, but that might not happen.”
I looked over at him. “I’ve seen what they’re capable of. They think they are above the law. You think you’re going to put them away?”
He smirked. “Yeah, I never miss.”
The SUV rolled down the road, and the weight of everything threatened to crush me. The clock was ticking. Boone and Gibbs were circling. Tilly was in the middle.
And it was up to me to get her out before it all blew up.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tilly
It had been over an hour.
I was still sitting on the edge of Jake—no, Stretch’s—bed, clutching the burner phone in both hands like it was some kind of lifeline. Maybe it was. No one had called back. No one had come pounding down the stairs demanding to know why I was snooping around. No one even opened the door. Just the low thumps of footsteps above me. Occasional voices, too muffled to understand. The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchenette. The steady beat of my heart pounding in my ears.
God, I wished I could go back to not knowing anything. Back to the simple lie I’d told myself that I was here because it was easier. Safe. Comfortable. Boone might have been a controlling asshole, but I was a good liar when it came to myself. I could pretend that I didn’t notice the men coming and going. The half-whispered conversations.
But I couldn’t pretend anymore.
Now I knew. Or I was starting to know. Stretch wasn’t just some guy Boone hired for protection. Boone and Gibbs weren’t just vaguely dangerous men. They were the kind of men who sniffed out rats. The kind who made them disappear.
And Stretch was the rat.
The door handle rattled, and I jumped up like I’d been shocked.
“Tilly?”
I almost sobbed in relief.
“Jake?” I called softly and stepped closer.
“Open the door,” he ordered, his voice low and urgent.
I scrambled for the knob and threw the door open. He barreled in like a storm and slammed the door shut behind him.His arms wrapped around me and lifted me off the ground as he buried his face in my neck.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “You’re okay. Thank fuck.”
I clung to him, my heart hammering in my chest. I had a thousand questions. A million. But one of them wasn’t how I felt about him. Even if he had lied. Even if I didn’t really know his name until yesterday.
“We have so much to talk about,” I mumbled into his chest.
He let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, there might be a thing or two I need to correct.”
I leaned back and looked up at him. “Yeah, Stretch.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Still don’t like it?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I can get used to it.”
His lips pressed to mine, a soft promise in the midst of chaos. It was quick, too quick, but grounding.
“I called your friends,” I said when we pulled apart. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I know,” he said simply.
I frowned. “How do you know? Did they call you or something?”
