Page 161 of Restitution
A tear slips down Base’s cheek as he grits his teeth, his arms locked, shoving forward, and when he lets go, Kade snaps her neck with a rapid crack to the left. Her body drops to his feet, and he stares at her lifeless form.
“She’s dead,” Kade says, panting as they both stare down at her, as if it’s not yet registered. “She’s dead.”
“Check her pulse.”
“Can you not see the mangled neck?” Kade retorts. “Or did you miss the popping sound it made?”
Base leans down and presses two fingers against her pulse anyway then stands quickly, raking his hand through his hair. “Fuck, we killed her.”
Kade nods. “Yep.”
“She’s dead.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Gone.”
“She’s fucking dead, Base.”
I’m waiting for the relief, the smile, something to show he’s glad this is done. That Bernadette being out of the picture is the beginning of everything for him and us and everyone.
Bernadette Sawyer, the woman who destroyed a part of him that Kade will never get back, is dead.
But no weight lifts from my shoulders.
Base grabs Kade and pulls him into him, and I try not to get involved as Base starts sobbing into his chest. Kade is emotionless, but he’s comforting his friend.
“She fucked us up, man. So fucking much. I just… I can’t fucking forget how much she messed with my head. How the fuck do we move on? How do we forget? How do we live normal lives after what we went through?”
Kade presses his forehead into his. “We do it proudly. We fucking live because we survived the Sawyers. You understand me? You go out there, get my sister, and you try to sort your shit out for her and your kid.”
Base wipes his eyes and nods. “We survived.”
“We did.”
“Then why do I still feel dead inside?” he asks. “Why is it still hurting?”
Kade grabs him by the nape and pulls him back in for a hug, slapping his back a few times. “We’ll be dead together. You die, I die, remember?”
“You die, I die,” he repeats, sniffing and looking down at Bernadette. “How can she still look evil, even when she’s dead?”
Kade kicks her aside, so she’s face down. “Barry will clean this up. Go shower. You have burned flesh on your skin.”
His gaze meets mine. “You okay?”
I chew my lip, looking down at the dead body, waiting for her to bounce up and shoot one of us. “It doesn’t feel over.”
“I don’t think it ever will,” he says, pulling me into his chest and kissing me. “Now, about that home. White picket fence or brown?”
I laugh and shake my head. “I would need to repaint the white more often than the brown.”
Kade walks me until my back hits the wall. “You say that like you’d be the one painting when we both know I’ll be doing it while you burn the house down with your terrible cooking.”
Smiling, I whisper, “Kiss me, Kade.”
He does. He smashes his lips to mine as his body presses me into the wall, his hands grabbing at my hips and sides and breasts, one hand sliding up to my throat, holding me there as he kisses to the corner of my mouth, along my jaw to my ear then pulls my lobe between his teeth.
“How does it feel?” he asks. “Having the hand on your throat that just killed Bernadette Sawyer.”
