Page 131 of Notorious

“I’m fucking sorry about that.”

“But what do we do?” I say louder.

“The guys have supplies. We’ll torch the place. Make it look like a suicide. With the apology and his body destroyed, it’ll work.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep,” he says, sounding confident. “Go wait in the car. We’ll take care of it.” He presses the keys into my hand.

I walk over to the car, my legs shaky, and fall into the passenger seat, putting my face in my hands. And I burst into tears.

Fuck.

I don’t wanna cry over that asshole. But I also don’t like having his death be my responsibility. I put this into motion. I … I … fuck.

The wind rustles the trees outside the window. I sit, staring blankly, until I see smoke, and then three men come running out of the building. The big guys head to their SUV, and then Rowan’s next to me, in the driver’s seat. He starts the engine and pulls smoothly onto the street.

He drives to Charlie’s house and parks in the garage. We strip off what we’re wearing and put it all in bags to burn, and then I take a quick shower and change into the other clothes I brought. I’m still stunned and horrified, but a small part of me is relieved.

Justice was served. Johnny’s demon was slain. Literally.

“You guys okay?” Charlie asks, wrapping Rowan in a bear hug when Rowan comes out of the shower with a towel on his head.

“It was perfect, my love,” Rowan says, and Charlie kisses him.

I shudder. “Perfect? He died. I didn’t want him to die. I don’t think I wanted him to die. I’m not sure.” I’m shaking again, wondering if I’m going to vomit.

“Kurt needs aftercare,” Rowan says. “Let’s get him home.”

“Thank you,” I say to both of them with as much gravity as I can manage. “I owe you.”

“Nah,” Rowan says. “That asshole deserved it. I know what happened wasn’t your scene, and I’m sorry you had to see it, but for me … I can be antisocial. It’s good for me to vent that in a … healthy way. And I rarely get such a good excuse to set a nice big fire.”

“What about money? The arrangements you made, the security …”

“I don’t need it.”

“What do you mean you don’t need it? I can pay. I have plenty.”

“I’ve got more.” He grins at me and flashes me the lock screen on his phone, which is a photo of him practically climbing Charlie. But the wallpaper is a famous coat of arms. “My family crest.”

Rowan St. Thomas. As in the St. Thomas dynasty.

Holy shit.

Yeah, he has more money than me. A hundred times as much.

So what the fuck is he doing with Charlie? How did they meet?

I have so many questions. “I should pay the guys, at least,” I say.

Rowan shrugs. “I can cover it as part of their salary, but feel free to give them a bonus.”

I make arrangements to send money to his trust fund to pay his big, muscled assistants.

“Well, if you need help with anything in the future, feel free to call me,” I say. “I don’t know what I could do, but I’m in your debt.”

It’s probably a bad idea for me to be in debt to him, but it’s worth it for Johnny.

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