Chapter 45 Tally
TALLY
With only his upper body in the frame and a borrowed shirt from Rust, Wolfe looks presentable on camera. Nobody would guess that his hands are bound by a cable tie and his thighs have been repeatedly impaled by a screwdriver.
Like Wolfe promised, he repeats his statement for the camera. He ends with advising the victims of Dalton’s abuse to come forward with their testimonies, too. Cautiously, he adds he will be leaving the country for his own safety and tells law enforcement not to come looking for him.
Under my supervision, Wolfe transfers all relevant data, the recordings incriminating Rex, and his confession to a fresh USB stick from his bag. That’s the evidence we’ll give to the cops, claiming it was anonymously delivered to me.
The laptop with our pictures on it and Wolfe’s other gear, including his burner phone, is ours to do with as we please. We can’t let anybody see the evidence of our little crime spree, but destroying the devices is a problem for later.
I shut the laptop with a sigh, giving myself another temple massage. Listening to Wolfe list Rex’s crimes a second time has exhausted me to the bone. It’s a hot day, but I feel heavy and cold.
I stifle a yawn as I collect the devices from the dusty floor and sort them into Wolfe’s messenger bag. “Alright, we’re done here. Rust, take care of him.”
“About time! I did everything you asked. Now cut off this cable tie. It’s hurting my wrists!” Wolfe whines. “And stop waving that shotgun around you big hillbilly oaf!”
“You want me to take care of him?” Rust echoes, perplexed.
I look over my shoulder. “Yeah, get it over with. I wanna go back to the motel. A shower and some sleep sounds real good right about now.”
Rust grins. “Your wish is my command, ma’am.”
I turn my back, trying to dislodge the stuck zipper on the messenger bag. “Maybe we can grab food on the way? I’m pretty hungry.”
“No! What are you—” Wolfe screams.
A bang deafens me. Ears ringing, I jump up and spin around.
Where Wolfe’s head used to be is now something resembling a burst watermelon, just with more skull shards and chunks of brain.
Oh God, the brains. I gag. They’re everywhere.
Brain chunks on the floor. Brain chunks on the wall. There’s even brain chunks on the fucking ceiling.
And blood.
So. Much. Blood.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I squeal as the headless body tips over, thudding to the floor
The satisfied smirk slips from Rust’s blood-spattered face. With the shotgun in his hands, he looks like a total psycho. Unfortunately, it’s kind of sexy and that makes it much harder to be mad.
“I took care of him like you said,” he mumbles sheepishly.
I slap my forehead. “I meant cut him loose like we promised!”
Rust scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry, but maybe you oughta be more precise with your orders.”
“Fuck!” I shout.
“Look, I ain’t feeling sorry for this maggot. He deserved worse.”
“But we still needed the laptop passwords for the locked data from him!”
“We have the USD stick.”
“It’s USB! With a goddamn capital ‘B’, Rustin! And now we got a fucking body to dispose of… again! Look at all the blood! The brains! How are we supposed to clean his DNA off the floor and the walls and the ceiling and—shit!”
He gives me a look like a puppy that knows it did something bad. It’s cute. And effective. Damn, I hate that I can’t stay angry with him.
Shaking, I rifle through my purse on the ground and take out my cigarettes, lighting one. The first drag soothes my frayed nerves enough to respond.
“Fine. I admit I should’ve been a little more careful with my words. And the asshole deserved it.”
“Thank you! In my book, I did the world a favor,” Rust agrees. “And we still have the USB with the recordings and the files incriminating Dalton. I’d say we’ve come out on top.”
I bite down on my thumb. “So you thought I asked you to kill a guy in cold blood and pulled the trigger with zero hesitation?”
“I told you I’d do anything for you. Are you finally gonna believe it?”
Heat curls low in my belly. I’m shocked at my reaction, but lust is a welcome relief from the icy numbness.
My ex-husband is a terrible influence. His love crimes are slowly eroding my sanity and I’m here for it.
“Only you could make first-degree murder look sexy, Big Guy.”
His eyes smolder as his gaze rakes across my body. It’s like he can sense my arousal, like he’s a starving beast waiting to sink his teeth into me.
He plucks the cigarette from my fingers. “You gotta stop smokin’ when you get stressed. It’s bad for you.”
“I know, but it takes the edge off.”
Rust takes a drag and smoke escapes through the corners of his mouth. He drops the cigarette, extinguishing it with his boot. “Maybe I can help with that.”
I step into him, smelling the metallic scent of blood on him. “Then give me something better than a hit of nicotine. I need to feel something except that numb cold inside my chest.”
I grasp his hand. It’s sticky with fresh blood but I guide his fingers to my throat.
“Right now I can’t deal with everything I found out today. I want to forget for a moment. Can you do that for me?” I whisper. “Touch me, please.”
Rust lets out a low growl. “You sick girl, lusting after a cold-blooded killer.”
“I’m lusting after the man I love,” I say without missing a beat.
He blushes. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you, Trouble. You might be in shock and I gotta be sure I’m not takin’ advantage of you in a vulnerable state.”
I swallow against the light pressure of his fingers around my neck. My cheeks burn. I’m still not used to asking for what I want—and then getting it.
“Fuck me brainless and make me come until I can only think of how good you feel inside of me.”
Rust’s grin turns wolfish. “That I can do.”