Chapter 50
“If you flash that light in my eyes one more time, I swear I’m going to punch you in the face.”
Rocco raised an eyebrow but didn’t look in the least bit concerned by Everett’s threat.
Everett exhaled, anxious to move past his friend’s medical evaluation and talk to Remington.
“Follow my finger,” Rocco said, ignoring the threat.
Everett sighed and followed the command. His mind buzzed from the update Rocco had given him about what happened after the pulley rig fell from the ceiling and knocked him out.
Sebastian had observed anomalies in the standard security metrics from the Breaklands.
He reached out to Faroe for an update, only to find Faroe unreachable and that the entire security team for the area had been given several days off.
The team had been lied to, told by Faroe that additional security guards had been hired to reduce hours and keep everyone more alert for trespassers.
But there were no new security guards. When he couldn’t reach Everett or Remington either, Sebastian immediately brought the Stingray team together and deployed them to the area.
They’d walked in on a nightmare scene. Remington was trying to get the motorized metal rig and steel frame off him.
Faroe was bleeding out in the bedroom from two gunshot wounds, and police sirens were closing in.
Lachlan had been minutes away from flying them to another secure location until Remington stopped them.
She had called the police and emergency services to come to the gatehouse.
There was proof of all of Faroe’s crimes.
She wanted her name cleared and help to save Everett.
He’d regained consciousness almost an hour after they’d arrived, while Remington was giving her statement to the police.
“You got a nasty concussion. I’d admit you to the hospital if I thought you’d stay there,” Rocco said.
“I’m not going to the hospital. Where is Remington?”
“Still with the Wonder Twin Detectives,” Rocco explained. “They’re tag teaming since this mayhem happened on Thiago’s turf, but the original crimes were in St. Basil.”
“I don’t like the idea of them ganging up on her,” Everett said, growing uneasy. Dealing with one Francois detective could be tricky. Having two was enough to make his concussion worse.
“Don’t worry. Ace and her mom are here with Octavia Constant, the lawyer they hired to represent Remi. She’s not alone.”
“I’ll stop worrying when I see her?—”
“Fine. Stop worrying now.”
Everett jerked his head toward the curved alcove that led into the kitchen.
Remington leaned against the wall with a sexy smile on her face.
A wave of lightheadedness washed over him, and his pulse kicked hard enough to make the room tilt.
He wasn’t sure if it was from the concussion or from the relief of seeing her alive and standing in front of him.
“Get over here,” Everett said.
Rocco slid away on the rolling stool, giving Remington a clear shot to reach him.
He tried to stand but stumbled and had to sit.
“Sit back down,” Remington commanded, then wrapped her arms around him.
Everett inhaled her sweet coconut scent and felt like he’d come home.
“I’ll give you two some time alone.” Rocco stood. “Do not move from that chair, Everett. I’m serious.”
“Got it,” Everett said, then watched as Rocco exited the kitchen. “Is it really over?”
“Yes, it’s so over. Both of the detectives agreed to drop all charges against me after I showed them proof that Faroe had killed Bobby and Lois,” Remington said, pulling away from him. He immediately missed her warmth. She sat down on the stool and rolled over to him.
“Proof? Rocco said Faroe refused to talk to the cops. He’s not admitting to anything.”
“That’s true. But before you got back to the Gatehouse and found me with that noose around my neck, Faroe had shown me a recording of him killing Bobby that he made with some kind of body-mounted camera.
He was so disturbed and arrogant. He wanted me to see how he’d framed me for murder before he tried to kill me.
Faroe thought he’d get away with everything.
” Remington laced her fingers between his, then pulled them to her lips.
“But I made sure he would never hurt either of us again.”
“Rocco said he thought you were trying to shoot his dick off,” Everett said, with a chuckle that made the throbbing in his head get worse. He winced.
She smiled. “I was rusty with my aim. I was trying to shoot him at center mass like you always told me, but I got his hip and thigh instead.” She shook her head. “Trust me, the last thing on my mind was Faroe’s cock. Yours on the other hand …”
“You stop it. Rocco warned me that I can’t engage in any strenuous activities until after I get over this concussion.”
“Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Not anymore.”
“Liar.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly. “I was so scared you were badly injured. All that metal was too heavy for me to move. But I could feel your pulse. I knew you were still alive?—”
“I have too much to live for now. No way I was dying when I’ve gotten back everything I ever wanted. You. Us. I love you so much.”
“I love you more. Obviously,” Remington said with a wink. “So, I’m guessing I’ll have to play nurse for you over the next few days.”
Everett nodded. “Do you still have that sexy costume from the Halloween party we went to years ago?”
“I’m pretty sure I can dig that out of my closet,” Remington said, her smile widening.
“I want you to wear it every day until I get better with nothing but a thong on underneath.”
“That can definitely be arranged. You’ll need to be properly motivated to get better faster.”
“I’m going for the fastest concussion recovery in history,” Everett said, then leaned closer.
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Remington’s hand slid up his jaw, fingertips gentle as they stroked below his ear.
Their faces hovered close, breath mingling, and she hesitated, the tiniest tremor of nerves passing between them.
Everett felt her lips brush against his, a feather-light contact that made his heart skip.
The pressure built, gentle at first, as if both of them were testing whether they were safe, whether the world had stopped spinning so violently out of control.
Everett kissed her back, and then the dam broke.
Her mouth moved with hunger, his arms enveloped her, tugging her onto his lap.
Her kiss grew more urgent, wordless in its desperation to make up for the hours she thought she’d lost him.
She tasted like coconut and relief and a longing so sharp he almost teared up.
From the foyer, someone cleared their throat loudly.
The spell snapped. Remington giggled against his mouth, then pressed her forehead to his.
Everett opened his eyes and peered over her shoulder, catching sight of a woman in a tailored suit, her gaze tactfully averted.
EMTs and police clustered in the living room behind her, their radios hissing softly with updates about the scene. Their bubble of privacy had burst.
“Mr. Gilliam, I’m Octavia Constant, representing Remi. The detectives want to take your statement. I’m happy to serve as interim counsel during the interview since your counsel isn’t here,” the lawyer said in a crisp voice.
Remington wrinkled her nose. “I guess you should get that over with and then we can go … home.”
“Where is that?” Everett asked, searching her face.
“Wherever you want it to be for us.” She smiled, then kissed his nose.
Everett kept her close for one last moment.
Outside, the world was chaos, but inside this kitchen, with her perched on his lap and her heart beating against his chest, nothing else mattered.
For the first time in forever, he knew it was over.
She’d survived the worst. He had too. And together, they would keep surviving.