Page 93 of Redemption

There’s a dead body to deal with.

Ron was so easy to dispose of. Back in Charleston, the natural predator had done all the work for me. The alligator didn’t leave any trace of him behind.

But this…

Stephen is a bloody mess in a gallery in the middle of York. I hope to fuck there’s not a camera in this office.

Probably not, since he won’t have wanted a recording of what he was doing to Abigail.

My fists clench at my sides, and I wish I could kill him all over again.

I take a breath and force myself to think.

I’ll have to leave Stephen here. I don’t have a hope of dragging his body anywhere to dispose of it; there are too many tourists in the city for me to get him very far without someone screaming.

There will be an investigation once his body is found in the gallery, but there’s nothing concrete to link me to the crime. I had reason to be in this building only yesterday. If I’ve left any small traces of myself behind, they can be easily explained away.

I inspect my hands. None of the blood is mine. My heavy boots did most of the work until I squeezed the last of the life out of him.

I’ll have to dispose of the boots. And my clothes. I’ll drop them in the river later.

Luckily, I’m dressed in a black shirt and dark wash jeans. The blood that’s splattered my clothes won’t be easily visible when I step outside into the night.

I’m no forensic expert. I might be missing something, but if I get the hell out of the country as soon as possible, I won’t be around for the police to question me.

I have to get Abigail back to the safety of the penthouse. As soon as she wakes up tomorrow, we’ll leave. London is only a couple of hours away. We can be on a flight by tomorrow night.

I lift her limp body and cradle her close to my chest.

“You’re safe,” I promise. “Everything will be okay.”

25

DANE

Abigail stirs in my arms with a groan. I shush her and pull her closer, stroking her silken hair to soothe her.

Warm tears wet my chest, and she sobs softly.

“You’re all right,” I promise. “We’re back at the penthouse. I’ve got you.”

Her delicate body convulses in a violent shudder.

“He can’t hurt you.” I can’t quite keep the growl from roughening my reassurance. “He’ll never touch you again.”

“What happened?” She asks, shaking against me. “We had one drink. I was so hot and dizzy. And then…”

My throat is too tight to speak. Her distress shreds me.

My failure to protect her twists my insides into painful knots.

“Did he…” She chokes on the question. “I don’t remember…”

I force myself to say, “When I got to you, his hands were on you, but he was fully dressed.”

She blinks up at me. “So you…got to me in time?”

I manage a jerky nod.

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