25. Killian
The edge of the fork dug into my palm beneath my white-knuckled grip. Forcing myself to move, I stabbed at the last of my salad and shoved it into my mouth. As I chewed, I glared at the motherfucker still staring at my wife like he’d done through the entire meal. After what he told me in the office, I knew exactly what was going through his head.
He was a sadistic motherfucker.
“Kurt’s wife.” Millie’s gaze slowly rose to the end of the table, where Davis sat. “How are you enjoying the classes?”
Millie’s throat worked as she swallowed a mouthful of wine. The glass trembled as she slowly lowered it back to the table. “Very enlightening.”
“That they are,” Davis praised. “Next week, the classes focus mainly on the wife’s purpose in the marriage and will help guide the husbands on your training.”
“Training?” she squeaked.
Nostrils flaring, I worked to calm the rage boiling in my veins. “Tell me more about this training,” I somehow got out through my clenched teeth. If I didn’t crack a molar by the time we left, I’d be shocked.
“Tell?” Davis’s smirk made me freeze. “How about a demonstration? Wife,” he barked. “Here.”
The scrape of chair legs along the floor snapped my attention to Carrie, who now stood and stepped to Davis’s side. I masked my shock when she lowered down to her knees and bowed her head. That smirk still firmly in place, Davis patted the top of her head like one would a dog.
“Knowing it makes me happy and understanding the consequences of not obeying, my wife does exactly as I say. I enjoy having her at my feet while I eat, knowing she’s within reach if I need her.”
A quick glance at Millie, and I almost cursed at her ghostly pale face.
“Kurt, give it a try. Your wife might not be as obedient, but the punishment part is a part of our fun.”
Millie’s panicked eyes met mine, and I swore I heard her begging me not to make her kneel at my side. My stomach churned with indecision. What the fuck was the best option? Make her do it to keep cover, or kill Davis, eliminating one sick bastard from the world?
I swallowed hard and nodded, lips parted to respond, when the chimes of the doorbell rang through the home. Davis’s lips dipped into a frown, face turning toward the front door. After wiping his lips, he tossed the used napkin onto his plate and turned to his wife.
“Don’t move.” With that, he shoved back from the table and stormed out of the room.
The tension sitting heavy in the room lightened the moment he was gone. I slouched back against the high-back chair and rubbed my eyes. Millie rubbed her temples in tiny circles. I didn’t dare look at Carrie, knowing I’d break cover and yank her off the floor to sit in Davis’s seat, where she belonged.
Voices filtered down the hall.
I knew exactly who had interrupted dinner, and I wasn’t sure if I was thankful or annoyed. The two men appeared in the wide door frame, still talking. I eyed Davis and Pastor Paul, wondering if this was some kind of ambush. Muscles bunched, I shifted in the seat, ready to fight them off with the dull dinner knife, but a small figure shifted from behind Pastor Paul.
What the fuck is Karigan doing here?
The door slammed shutbehind me, the force shaking the whole fucking cottage. Stripping out of the suit coat, I tossed it over the back of a chair and pulled the hair tie from my hair. The stiff cushions barely moved beneath my weight when I flopped onto the small couch, arms stretched out wide along the back, taking up the entire thing.
I tracked Millie as she paced back and forth, dainty fingers drumming along her thigh as she worked through the same frustration and disgust that raced through my veins. By the door, Hunter had a green tint to his skin, telling me he was seconds away from losing his dinner. The dinner Davis made him eat in the kitchen, away from us, because he was considered “the help”.
Fucking bastard.
Fingers threaded through my hair, I pulled hard, hoping the bite of pain would center me enough to think.
“That’s why,” Millie muttered to herself. “That’s why he had her parents killed. He wanted her as his wife this whole time.” Pausing, she swiveled, her long, loose skirt fanning out with the move. “Karigan’s aunt, the one who called the FBI and started all this, said her sister acted strangely, scared even, the month before the murders. Maybe Gary Paul had approached them, hoping they would offer Karigan without a fight.” Her groan of frustration filled the room. “But why would they name him as her guardian in their will?”
I nodded as she spoke, also working to unravel how this shit show came about. The moment Pastor Paul walked into the Cullers’ house, right at the end of dinner, I tensed, knowing shit was about to go down. And fucking hell, I was right. I was so distracted when he described his now-clear vision, I left the yummy chocolate cake untouched. Per Pastor Paul, Karigan was the future of the church, as his fucking wife.
I rubbed at my grumbling stomach and stood to rummage through the emergency snack stash. The crinkle of the foil bag filled the cottage as I ripped open the veggie chips. Shoving one into my mouth, I settled back on the couch, stilling when I felt eyes on me. Millie’s smiling face watched me with a slight headshake at the surprisingly scrumptious treat.
“What? I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
“We just ate.” Her giggle softened the edges of my anger, though my thirst for vengeance still rode me hard. There was a fun, kind of aerobic, way to ease the mounting frustrations, but that couldn’t happen until Hunter left.
“It’s his thing.” Hunter stood straight from where he slouched against the wall. “I don’t think we’ve had a team meeting where he didn’t munch on something.”
“The documents could’ve been created and signed, giving Gary Paul guardianship of Karigan before he approached them about marrying their only daughter.” I shoved another cardboard-like chip into my mouth. “Or it was forged after the fact.” That was my bet.
“If it’s a forgery, then it’s a hell of a good one. I can’t see any flaws or differences in signatures,” Millie offered.
“But you haven’t seen the original copy,” I countered. “We only have the scanned documents. There could be evidence of tampering on the original document that doesn’t come through with the copies we have.”
“There is always AI, too.” I turned my focus from Millie to Hunter. “With how quickly that technology evolves, I bet there is some type of AI that could mimic a signature, which could be the copy we have, while the original documents state the truth in their wishes for their daughter if something happened to them.”
The bag crumbled in my hand, and I tossed the small ball into the trash can beside the TV.
“None of that matters, really. That girl was drugged out of her mind tonight.” I winced, remembering her glassy eyes and sluggish movements. The manipulator said she was still on medicine to help her through the grieving period, but I called bullshit.
Millie held up a hand, using her fingers to tick off her theories as she spoke. “He’s keeping her drugged for one or all of the following: One, so she won’t run. Two, to keep her from telling others what really happened that night. Three, to make her more susceptible to his manipulations and lies.” Millie rubbed at her temples as if warding off a migraine. “Who knows what kind of brainwashing techniques he uses during those so-called ‘therapy sessions’ he told us about. She’s in a vulnerable state, which makes her more susceptible to believing any well-constructed lie. Hell, they might alter her memories so she doesn’t know what’s real and what’s not.”
“But kind of like the will thing, why she’s drugged or what’s going on behind the scenes, it doesn’t change our goal.” I leaned back against the couch and motioned for Millie to join me. The insistent pacing added another layer to my tension with every tiny footstep. Plus, I needed to touch her and know that she was safe at my side, despite the dangers surrounding us. “Millie needs a chance to talk with Karigan, one-on-one. That’s our priority. What did Carrie tell you?”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, sealing her side against mine. Millie’s cotton-candy pink head leaned back, resting on my bicep and soothing some of my buzzing worry.
“We didn’t have too much time outside.” Her head rolled along my arm to look at Hunter. “Great idea on the smoke break to get us out of the house and away from the cameras.” He shrugged like the brilliant idea wasn’t that big of a deal. Which it was—huge, in fact—if Millie was able to pull information out of Carrie. “When I asked her why she didn’t go to the police after everything…” Millie’s voice cracked on that word, making my brows pull in as I studied the deep line between her brows. I’d have to find out what she meant by everything later. “She said the police chief is on the church’s payroll. She wasn’t sure how, but the chief not only helped cover up the few suspicious deaths but also the death of Davis’s previous wives. When I asked her if the police chief was a member, she said no, which makes me wonder.” She looked up into my face. “Maybe the theory of blackmail material hidden away somewhere isn’t such a long shot. But I’m not sure how we’d know for sure, considering Charlie couldn’t find anything.”
A slow smile pulled at my lips, spreading across my entire face.
“I have a brilliant idea.” Both she and Hunter shot me skeptical looks. “Don’t worry. It will be easy.” Whipping out my phone, I tapped on the Amazon app. “We just need to order a few things first.” Lips pursed, I studied the size of Millie’s head. “What size balaclava do you think you need?”
“This is your brilliant idea?” Millie hissed as I secured the black beanie over her pink hair.
Amazon’s next-day shipping to the off-site hub locker and the wide range of clothing perfect for breaking and entering made tonight easy to prepare for. Instead of responding, I bopped the end of her button nose. She hissed like an angry kitten and tried to swat my hand away.
Fuck, she was adorable.
How I allowed my trauma to push her away while I drowned in the overwhelming shame and guilt of the persona I was forced to play after we arrived was unacceptable. I hurt her and myself by not opening up and explaining. After exposing the dark scars littering my soul, I immediately felt lighter, allowing myself to move past the memories and focus on her. Which I did several times last night and this morning in my desperate attempt to make up for those two dumb days when I didn’t seek comfort in her touch or listening ear.
Now we stood a block away from the police chief’s home, preparing to do a little snooping. Taking Millie on this crazy outing wasn’t my first choice, but I couldn’t leave her back at that creepy cult’s compound unprotected. At least here she was with me, safe. Sure, the situation was slightly dangerous, but I wouldn’t be able to focus on what needed to be done if she were back at the cottage, alone and vulnerable.
Because this also required Hunter’s help.
Plus, if we got caught, I could easily hide Millie in a cabinet or similar tight space while I manipulated my way out of trouble. How was I so sure I could sweet talk my way out of being arrested when caught red-handed breaking and entering?
Because I was fucking good and had done it before.
And the police chief was a single woman. I wasn’t above using my unnaturally good looks to our advantage. If we were caught—this was my plan, so I highly doubted we would—I’d seduce the granny panties off her if that meant keeping our cover and giving Millie the opportunity to escape. Would I hate myself after? Absolutely. But this was bigger than me. I’d suck it up and do what needed to be done like I had so many times before, all for the greater good.
Greater good.
That was what my father believed in all those years with the CIA and what made him hyperfocused on me following in his footsteps. My mom, the love of his life, was murdered during an overseas trip by a terrorist group the CIA knew about but didn’t have enough intel to shut down when they planted a bomb outside her hotel. She wasn’t the target, but that didn’t change the outcome. I was left without a mother, and Dad became the worst version of himself.
At least until I was held captive for those two months. The blinding fear, wondering where I was, what happened to me, and if he would ever see me again, changed his tune. When I woke up in a Guatemalan hospital, somehow making it that far barely alive and through the jungle, he was there at my bedside and very different. While I recovered, he did everything in his power to get me out of that fucked-up agency and over to the FBI. After he secured that, he retired and hadn’t looked back once.
He was the key driver in my decision not to reach out to Millie after I left the CIA. Even though I was out of my past, everything that I had done for the ‘greater good’ could come back to haunt me. Which, in his mind, meant never having someone you truly cared about. It left you too vulnerable. That was probably why he’d been married and divorced more times than I changed my sheets.
“Killian?” Millie whisper-shouted as she shoved my arm.
Aww, it was like being pushed by a baby panda.
“We need to get you self-defense training,” I muttered.
“Where did you go?”
My head tilted to the side. My black cap kept my hair away from my face despite the wind. “I’m standing right here. Are you having an aneurysm?” I placed the back of my hand against her forehead.
“What? Kill….” Her head fell forward. “First, you cannot tell if someone is having an aneurysm like that, and second, I meant you got this far-off look in your eyes and literally froze.” I glanced at my hand that hovered midair. Huh. “I think we need to increase our sessions to daily,” she grumbled while tugging on a pair of tight gloves.
“I’d love to work your body daily, sweet cheeks,” I practically purred.
“I meant therapy sessions.”
“It’s physical therapy.”
“You’re impossible. You know what I meant.”
I did, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was okay with uncovering every dark part of me to my Millie. Yes, she was trained and probably the only one I would feel comfortable enough to talk to, but I didn’t want her to look at me differently. Though the way I felt after our impromptu counseling session earlier was proof that I needed to talk to someone.
“Can you two focus, please?” Hunter snapped beside me. Leaning against a tree, both arms crossed, he glared my way. “Two minutes until Charlie sets off the police station alarm. We better hope that drags the chief out of bed at one in the fucking morning.”
“So grumpy,” I whispered to Millie, making her giggle. “We’re all set here. Now all we can do is wait.”
We didn’t wait long. Five minutes later, the chief’s car flew past our hiding spot in the neighborhood park. Not wasting a second, I gripped Millie’s hand in mine. With a curt nod to Hunter, who would be our lookout man for the night’s activities, I tugged Millie toward the chief’s home, ensuring we stuck to the shadows.
We hurried on silent steps, only pausing to carefully swing the side gate open and slip through the small gap. Tension kept my muscles tight as we approached the back door. Slipping the lock-picking kit—again, thank you, Amazon—from my pocket, I released a steadying breath and got to work on the multiple locks securing the home.
Millie shifted side to side beside me, her nervousness almost palpable. The click of the final lock disengaging felt like a thunderclap in the otherwise silent night. Shooting a hopeful look to Millie that Charlie was able to successfully disengage the home alarm and cameras, I twisted the doorknob and pushed. The wood groaned as it separated from the door frame, but no alarm blared through the night, warning everyone in a five-mile radius of the danger.
Millie’s hand in my own, I pulled her behind me as I stepped into the small kitchen, closing the door softly behind us.
And that’s when it happened.
The unexpected.
One step deeper into the kitchen had the entire night going to shit.