Ghost opens a duffel bag, reaches inside, pulls out a handful of money, and throws it in the air. Twenties flutter around us. The next time Tank shows up, he has a bag of white powder.
Stark watches in horror as Tank leans over Stark’s face, cuts a hole in the bag, and carefully lets the contents stream out until Stark is choking from his only airhole.
The room is littered with the fruits of Stark’s labors. We’re nearly done here.
Tank and Ghost nod in my direction and step out of the house.
“Adios, motherfucker,” I say to Stark. “It’s time for light’s out.”
Twenty-Eight
Blade
* * *
It’s been hours since we got home, and June is still far too quiet. She seems nearly catatonic in the way she sits and stares at nothing. She isn’t going to teach her classes tonight, not that I blame her.
I went into her email and sent messages to her students, letting them know she’s really sick and will get in touch with them as soon as her fever has passed. It seemed like the best excuse that would buy her some time. But how much time will she need?
The worst thing is she hasn’t eaten much, nor has she had enough to drink. She lets me move her around like a rag doll without complaint, but she isn’t talking to me, except for one or two words when I ask her direct questions. She also avoids eye contact.
I’m freaking the fuck out, worried she’s traumatized from knowing I killed a man. A man who would have killed her if I hadn’t gotten there on time. A man who would have hunted her down and terrorized her for the rest of her life if I’d let him live.
I’m not the least bit sorry I put an end to Pete Stark. My only regret is that I didn’t have the luxury of dragging out his death so he could have suffered longer. He didn’t deserve the mercy I showed.
No one will ever suspect that Stark was killed by my team. For one thing, we’re that good at covering our tracks. We know how to enter and exit without leaving a footprint anywhere. We wear gloves. We clean up.
The reason we dumped all the evidence of Stark’s life of crime around him was to point out that any of about two dozen people had reason to want him dead. My team doesn’t make that list.
It’s been three years since Stark’s wife left him; she’s on no one’s radar either. We checked the houses on that street and determined no one was at home in the middle of the day, so not a soul spotted the Camaro. The SUVs were hidden.
It was a clean job that will never be tracked back to us. But I suspect my girl is worried. It’s time for me to force her to talk to me. She’s wallowed in her own head for long enough. It’s not healthy.
I find her in the bedroom, sitting in the armchair, staring at the wall. The sippy cup filled with her favorite black cherry seltzer is on the floor, untouched. Yeah, it’s time to end this. I go to her, scoop her into my arms, and take her spot in the chair. She doesn’t fight me, but she doesn’t meet my gaze either.
Pressing her cheek against my chest, I stroke my fingers through her hair, hoping to comfort her in some way. I’m trying to decide what to say when she surprises me by speaking first. “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she whispers.
I flinch. She’s sorry? “What are you sorry for, Little one?”
“I did so many naughty things. I should have come to you instead. I broke like fifty of my safety rules. I snuck out of the house so even Mr. Brinkman wouldn’t notice me. I touched your knives. I stole one. I stole your car. I drove dangerously with a broken arm. I even argued with you when you came to rescue me. You’ll never be able to trust me again.”
This is unexpected. I’m taken aback. I didn’t realize she was holding all this inside her. I thought she was mad at me. I feared she wouldn’t be able to look at me again now that she knows I killed a man. A specific man.
I tip my girl back in my arms so she’s looking at me. “June… Honey, I’m not mad at you. First of all, I could never be mad at you, and I never will be.”
She sits taller on my thigh. “But I was so naughty, and I broke so many rules. I could have gotten in an accident. I could have cut myself with that knife. You should be mad. Really mad. I stole your car, Blade.”
I smile at her. “Honey, it’s not my car. Nothing I owned before I met you is mine anymore. It’s ours. You don’t need my permission to take the car anywhere.”
Her eyes go wide. Her jaw drops open.
I lift her off my knee, stand her in front of me between my legs, and clasp her biceps. I want her full attention. “What’s mine is yours. The moment you’re fully ready, I’m going to put a ring on your finger and haul you to the courthouse. After that, everything of mine will be legally yours. And let me explain something to you. I do not own you. You are your own person. You can make your own choices and decisions about anything you want whenever you want.”
She frowns.
“June… I know the lines got blurred because you’ve been stuck in the apartment for two weeks. Those have been an intense two weeks during which we got to know each other faster than most couples ordinarily would. We also entered into a specific power-exchange relationship and have been learning what works for us in the arc of age play.
“It’s true that we will likely settle into a Daddy Dom/Little girl arrangement that is nearly twenty-four-seven because it suits us. But at no point will you ever give up agency over your body or mind. Sometimes, you will need to make decisions for yourself that I don’t get a say in. That’s what happens between couples. Never will that mean that I would stop loving you. Never.”
