Page 99 of Too Late

I want to die.

I want to fucking die.

“Kill me,” I whisper. “Just fucking kill me.” I hear sirens.Goddammit!The last thing I want to do is live with these visions in a fucking prison. “Fucking whore,” I mutter. Then I scream. “You fucking whore! Just kill me!”

Sloan presses her lips to Luke one more time, and then she turns and walks toward me. She bends down in front of me. I would reach out and strangle her, but I’m fairly certain I’ve lost too much blood to even lift my arms now.

“No one is going to kill you, Asa. For the rest of your life, every time you close your eyes in that prison cell, I want you to imagine the life I’m living with Luke. I want you to picture me making love to Luke. Marrying Luke. Having Luke’s babies.”

She leans in closer until I can smell him on her. She’s whispering when she looks me dead in the eyes and says, “And every year on April twentieth, my beautiful family will be celebrating your birthday with a big, huge, delicious coconut cake, you sorry fucking bastard.”

Luke unlocks the door, seconds before it’s shoved open.

Guns are drawn.

Pointed at me.

But all I see is Sloan.

The whore is fucking smiling, and it’s all I see.

FIFTY-ONE

LUKE

Iunlock the door to our apartment and wait for Sloan to unlatch the deadbolts.

All five of them.

I hate that we have to be paranoid. I hate that I call her every hour just to check on her, even though I know she has 24/7 surveillance parked right across the street. I hate that we’re the ones who are forced to hide, even though Asa is monitored and on house arrest until his trial, which will, without doubt, put him behind bars for a while.

I don’t know how the last couple of months have affected Sloan. I tried to talk her into seeing a therapist, but she insists she’s fine. Or she says shewillbe, once Asa is behind bars.

There’s no possible way for anyone to remove an ankle monitor without it notifying the police, so that’s one small reassurance we have. If Asa does something stupid and decides to leave his house, we’ll know within ninety seconds. But it isn’t Asa I’m worried about—it’s all the people he has on his side who will do his work for him.

The judicial system in this country is fucked, to put it lightly. It feels like Sloan is the one being punished, simply because people like Asa are considered innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. I keep telling myself that we’re lucky he got house arrest. The judge could have allowed him to post bail and walk around free until he faces trial.

We have that much on our side, at least.

It hasn’t been so bad until a few days ago because Asa was recovering from his gunshot wounds in the hospital for the past month. But now that we know he’s healed and at home, with visitors free to come and go as they please, we don’t feel as safe as we’ve been feeling. I attached the extra four deadbolts to the door yesterday for added protection.

We’re two hours away from him now and no one outside the department knows where we’re staying. It takes me over an hour just to drive home every day because I take so many side roads, just to ensure I’m not being followed. It’s exhausting. But I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, short of walking through Asa’s front door and putting a bullet in his forehead.

I hear the deadbolts unlatch and as soon as she begins to pull the door open, I slip inside and shut it. Sloan smiles and stands on her tiptoes to kiss me. I wrap an arm around her waist and kiss her back as I spin her to where I can reach the deadbolts and lock them. I try not to make it noticeable, because the more I worry, the moresheworries.

She pulls back as I’m latching the last deadbolt. I can see the concern flash in her eyes, so I redirect her.

“Smells good,” I say, glancing into the kitchen. “What are you cooking?” Sloan is an incredible cook. Better than my own mother, but I’m not telling my mother that.

She grins and grabs my hand, pulling me toward the kitchen. “I’m not sure, to be honest,” she says. “Soup, but I just threw in what sounded good.” She opens the pot and dips a spoon in, bringing it up to my mouth. “Taste it.”

I sip from the spoon. “Holy shit. That’s delicious.”

She grins and puts the lid back on the soup. “I want it to simmer for a while, so you can’t have any yet.”

I pull my keys and cell phone out of my pocket and toss them on the counter. Then I reach down to Sloan and grab her, lifting her up into my arms. “I can wait to eat,” I say as I carry her to the bedroom. I toss her gently onto the bed and crawl up her body. “Did you have a good day?” I ask, planting a kiss to her neck.

She nods. “I got an idea today. It might be dumb, though. I don’t know.”

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