30. Charlie
30
Charlie
C allan drove the boat deep into the Eastern Bay, seemingly miles from civilization, until the lights from town were just faint twinkles, like the stars above us. In the silence, I had too much time to think. I couldn’t stop replaying the fact that I had just killed a man. Not just any man—the former President of the United States.
Callan had assured me we’d cover everything up perfectly, but I was still anxious with the unknown. What if Callan turned on me? What if he threw me under the bus, just as I had planned to do with him?
But then it hit me—he was just as deep in this as I was. He was the one who came up with the plan to wrap Jake’s body in plastic, anchor it with bricks, and drive out into the sea. Like a real-life fucking Dexter.
The boat suddenly came to a stop, and Callan shot up, moving to the front of the small vessel. He turned back to me. “You helping me or what?”
I stood, grabbing Jake’s feet as Callan stepped over the body, gripping beneath Jake’s arms. Together, we lifted him and hurled him overboard. The body disappeared into the black water below, swallowed whole by the night.
Callan sat back into the driver’s seat, starting the engine again. “I’ll go back to the house to clean up. You head back to D.C.,” he instructed.
I sat in the passenger seat beside him as we began to move. “I can help, you know. Clean up the fucking mess I made,” I offered, though the exhaustion in my voice betrayed me, and even though I wanted to get back to Ana as soon as possible, I knew I needed to help.
Callan glanced at me, his tone softening. “You know, I would’ve done the same. If someone said that shit about my girl.”
My eyebrows shot up. “So you and I are more alike than I thought,” I said with a smirk.
“Nah,” Callan said, shaking his head. “We’re just men who’d do anything for the women we love. I guess it’s not so bad that you’re fucking crazy. Otherwise, you’re right…the audio wouldn’t have been enough.” His gaze stayed fixed ahead, a small smirk rising on his lips.
I followed his line of sight. “You’re sure you can cover this up?” I asked hesitantly.
Callan shot me a sidelong glance, a small, almost amused smile breaking through. “Yeah, Charlie. I’m sure. You’re gonna have to trust me now. And I guess I’m gonna have to trust you.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah. Fuck.”
The tension between us seemed to dissolve in that moment. Turns out killing someone and dumping their body together had a way of forging a connection that defied logic. Or maybe it was just that we both knew we were stuck with each other now.
He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was I.
After a few moments of silence, Callan spoke again, his voice casual. “You know, Leo’s still rotting in jail.” He slowed the engine slightly, glancing at me. “What are the chances of him getting away with the shit he pulled?”
A slow grin spread across my face. “I don’t know, mate. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Callan nodded. “You’re gonna have to help me rack up more cash for Bart,” he said with a laugh.
I grinned back at him, shaking my head. “See? I told you we’re alike, my friend.”
* * *
Ana and I were backstage in my dressing room before the first show of the tour. I had just finished rehearsing, and Ana was sitting in front of the vanity, applying her red lipstick. She was so fucking stunning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much my life had changed since she showed up.
She had filled the void in my life that I was desperately seeking for years. She showed me that it was okay to be vulnerable, that even if I was too much, I still deserved love. And she loved me despite my flaws, despite my growing need for her; in fact, she reveled in it.
She could see the darkness in me and match it, as if she wasn’t afraid to step into the shadows I tried so hard to hide for years. She didn’t flinch from the parts of me that felt too broken. She embraced them, made them her own. It was as though she understood the storm raging inside me because she carried one of her own.
She could take everything from me—my fears, my doubts, my control—and strip me bare, leaving me vulnerable in a way I never dreamed of letting anyone see. Yet in the very next moment, she’d give it all back. With just one kiss, she’d rebuild me, stronger, steadier, more whole than I ever thought I could be.
Her lips held power, not just over my body but over my entire being. In her kiss, there was fire and tenderness, chaos and calm. It was the perfect contradiction, just like us.
She didn’t just meet my darkness; she challenged it, tamed it, turned it into something beautiful. And in doing so, she showed me that even the deepest shadows could hold light.
Ana wasn’t afraid of me, of the unfiltered, unhinged version of who I was. She matched me step for step, holding her own while letting me fall apart in her hands.
She could see me in a way no one else ever had. She could shatter me and put me back together in a way that made me feel whole.
And she was mine. My salvation. My obsession. Mi diosa .
And no matter what it took, I would make sure she stayed that way.
Forever.
As I walked to the stage, her red lips on my cheek, claiming me for the world to see, the crowd’s deafening cheers filled the air. But all I could think about was her. The fire we had created was eternal—and it burned brighter than ever.