Epilogue
Epilogue
As much as I’d looked forward to it, I never did get to kick Henri’s ass. I did witness his displeasure when he attempted to pull the, “but I’m a Canadian citizen,” card when he was arrested and learned that Canada and the United States had agreements in place to allow extradition. I did a happy dance when he was also informed there was a little thing known as the Territorial Principle which allows a state to claim jurisdiction over persons and events within its boundaries.
Faced with the knowledge that he was subject to the U.S. courts and our laws, it really wasn’t a huge surprise when I didn’t even need to testify at his trial. Citadel’s research learned the mug shot had been taken when Henry was arrested for being a peeping Tom. The team didn’t stop there. They interviewed the woman who’d been the victim as well as found police reports of two other cases involving women in states bordering Canada.
We met with the DA and Henri’s defense team and when Audra had slapped down one photo after another onto the conference room table we’d all gathered around, I’d shuddered. The other women and I all shared an uncanny resemblance to each other. Then Zeke calmly presented streams of statistical data of prior cases where a peeping Tom became a harasser who’d escalated to stalking and went on to become a murderer. He’d tapped on each of the photos again and added that taking one life made it easier to take another. A second was but a single step away from becoming a serial killer.
Landon stared right into Henri’s eyes while addressing the entire room, stating that Citadel would not stop digging until every single detail about Henri’s life on both sides of the border had been uncovered and brought out into the light. By the time Landon took my hand and the entire Citadel team formed a phalanx around me as we walked out of the office, Henri’s lawyers were already suggesting that taking a deal was far better than facing a jury.
With Henri’s acceptance of the deal offered, the case was closed. However, the day I’d made the suggestion Henri’s story would make a very good plot for a thriller, I learned the hard way that my number one fan didn’t agree. After my Daddy imprinted each of his points against such an idea on my ass with the back of a hairbrush, I changed my mind.
I blamed it on endorphins for my enthusiastic agreement my aftercare should include a deliciously erotic demonstration of a different plotline. By the time he’d hogtied me and buried that blasted double-edged vibe deep inside me, I was pretty easy to convince that sticking to my genre of romance was far better.
And when asked why the protagonist of my next book just happened to mirror the life of a certain incredibly handsome, very virile, strict but loving man who was my very own Major Daddy Dom… I could honestly answer, “How could it be anything else, Sir? It’s just Westerly’s Way.”