Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
Waking up in Blair’s embrace is one of the things I’ll never get bored of. Her scent, the feeling of her warm body pressed against mine, her heartbeat in sync with mine — all of it is like a dream. If Heaven exists, Blair is mine.
Her eyes flutter open, and a stupid, goofy grin tugs on the corner of her lips. That’s enough to melt away any worries of the day that’s ahead of us. I lean in, kissing her forehead gently.
“Good morning, butterfly.”
“Morning,” her groggy yet happy voice reaches my ears, and my heart skips a beat.
I pull back enough to look at her face, and I’m mesmerized by the beauty in front of me.
Each day, I love her more. I’m so in love with this woman, and I’m fucking terrified of losing her — terrified of not being good enough for her.
“How did you sleep?”
Blair yawns, sitting up. The duvet pools around her waist, the strap of her shirt falling down her shoulder. I force myself to look away for a moment, embarrassed that such a simple action got me hard as a rock in record time.
“I slept perfectly,” she murmurs, smiling at me, and I blush like a little schoolboy. “Is Amy alright?”
I clear my throat, sitting up and leaning against the headpost.
“Alive. The doctor said her wounds are severe.” I give her a pointed look, and she smiles sheepishly. “But she should pull through.”
“Good,” the relief on her face is instant. “I didn’t want to kill her.”
“And you didn’t,” I point out. “But I’m very fucking proud of you. You did an amazing job, butterfly.”
“Is it weird? I don’t feel any guilt over what I did to her. And no guilt for killing Alexander, either. Am I a monster?”
The genuine worry in her voice makes me pause. There are too many things running through my head, but the main priority is to defuse this situation. I can’t let her think that she’s a monster.
“No, no, listen to me.” The urgency in my voice slips out before I can try to keep my cool. My hand reaches for hers, intertwining our fingers together. “You’re not a monster. You did what you needed to do. Hell, I’ve done worse things and haven’t thought of them since.”
“I know,” she sighs. “I just… feel bad that I don’t feel bad. Am I making any sense?”
I offer a supportive smile, squeezing her hand a little. “Of course you are, butterfly. I get it. No one just gets used to the life of crime. But for what it’s worth, I’ve got you. I’ll always have your back.”
“You better,” she grins teasingly. “Or I might just leave you.”
“Not fucking happening,” I respond immediately, holding onto her hand for dear life. Blair laughs, the softness of the sound making something inside me heal. “Never. You’re not allowed to leave me.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
Blair giggles at the sudden relief in my tone, and I smile in return. She slowly pushes her feet off the edge of the bed, stretching her arms above her head. A small yawn comes past her soft lips, and she stands up, her bare feet paddling across the wooden floor.
“It’s today, isn’t it?”
She’s not looking at me as she asks the question.
She pulls the wardrobe door open, her slender fingers skimming through all the clothes I got for her.
There are a lot of elegant dresses, pants, and shoes, but she shoves all of those to the side, sticking with the comfortable outfits — a pair of sweats, a well-fitted, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of combat boots.
“It is,’’ I mimic her actions, stretching my limbs, then making my way to the wardrobe, tossing a plain, black shirt over my head. Blair’s eyes follow every move I make, and the notion makes me smirk.
Blair rolls her eyes, playfully jabbing my chest. She reaches for the hairbrush, but before she can grab it, I get a hold of it first. She gives me a puzzled look, and I gently lead her back to the bed, sitting her down and getting on my knees on the bed behind her.
My movements are gentle, as I don’t want to hurt her. The brush glides through her hair with ease, and my girl hums in satisfaction. The silky shade of deep brown shines under the soft sunlight that beams through the windows, the length reaching her mid-back.
“Are you worried?”
Blair’s silence makes me pause, but as soon as I do, she responds, and I continue the maneuver of brushing her hair.
“Worried? A little. I don’t want to get in your way.”
“You won’t,” I murmur, parting her hair into two. I bring one side over her shoulder, keeping it out of the way, and gently tilting her head backward as I start braiding her hair into Dutch braids. “You’ll do an amazing job, butterfly. I don’t doubt that.”
“Well, we both know what happened the last time I tried being helpful.” Her sigh of disappointment makes my heart ache. “I just don’t want to cause another issue for you.”
“You’ve never done that,” I try to reassure her, hoping my words reach her. “We’ve found Woods, and we’re taking him out. Flint’s next.”
“What’s the plan?”
“He’s currently hiding in one of his summer homes,” I explain, reaching over to the bedside table and taking two small hair ties.
I tie the first braid, then bring the other half back, starting the same process.
“The security is tight, of course, but we’ll manage.
It’s not impossible getting to him. Do you want to be the one to kill him? ”
Blair ponders on it for a moment as my fingers slide through her hair, picking a piece, then tucking it underneath the other one, creating the perfect start of a Dutch braid.
“No, I don’t care who kills him,” she responds, her voice oozing determination. “All I care about is that Simmons is mine to kill, as well as making sure Woods dies. What about his family, though?”
“He has twins in their mid-twenties. From the intel that X provided before he went off-grid, there’s no contact with him. What a shocker.”
Blair snorts. “No wonder. Any evidence of them being involved in the trafficking organization?”
I shake my head, then realize she can’t see me. “No, none whatsoever.”
“Then, no reason to kill them. His wife?”
“Dead, though he does have a few girlfriends.”
“So no one of significance.”
“Precisely.” I finish braiding the second braid, securing it with the tie, then softly touching the two strands. Blair brings them forward, then turns to look at me.
“Thank you,” she smiles, pecking my lips.
“What have I told you about thanking me?”
“Sorry.”
“About apologizing, too.”
She rolls her eyes, but a soft laugh follows. She climbs on the bed, sitting next to me, biting the inside of her cheek. It’s something she always does when she’s deep in thought, and I can tell just how focused she is. And fucking adorable.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Well, if we take Woods out, what happens to his business?”
“He has two thick trust funds for his children that they will access once they turn thirty, or after they marry, whichever comes first. The rest would also go to them, since there’s no one else. Men like him always have wills, so who knows?”
“Is there a way we can get that money?”
I lift a curious brow. “You want his dirty money?”
“As opposed to your clean one?” She deadpans, and I clamp my mouth shut.
“But, I don’t want it for myself. There are too many homeless people, too many people dying all over the world.
I’d want all of his money donated to various charities.
The money’s dirty, but we’re talking hundreds of millions, if not billions, here. We can help a lot of people with that.”
I don’t have to think about it twice before nodding. The idea’s solid and for a great cause. Knowing Blair, it comes just from the desire to help the less fortunate ones and, perhaps, help people who are in a similar position as her — dealing with trauma and trying to heal.
“Alright,” I lean in, kissing her forehead. “We’ll do that. I’ll see how much of his money I can get.”
“Perfect. When do we leave?”
I check the clock on the wall, doing mental mathematics.
“We’ll go to the base around seven to regroup and start from there. But before that, you and I need to go somewhere.”
Blair’s brow rises. “Where? Are we going to see Noelle?”
I shake my head.
We’ve gone to see Mom every single day this past week, especially after what happened to Amy. I tightened the security by a lot, and there’s always at least four men with Mom in the room at all times.
What worries me the most is that her state remains unchanged.
Her heart has started to heal, but she’s still in a coma.
The doctors are waiting for my permission to wake her up, but I won’t do a damn thing before I talk to Dad about it.
She’s my mother, and I love her more than words can describe, but she’s his wife — the love of his life. I won’t take away the choice from him.
“No, not today, butterfly.” I smile, and she looks puzzled.
“Then?”
“Well, you do have a father-in-law, too.”
At the mention of Hudson, Blair’s eyes light up. A beaming smile decorates her face, and she immediately hops off the bed, then heads straight into the kitchen.
Quickly, I pull on a random pair of sweatpants, following behind her. This apartment is fucking small; it’s driving me insane. I can’t wait to go back to my penthouse, and the fact that I didn’t sleep at all last night doesn’t help. Soon, I’ll take my butterfly home.
“What are you doing?”
I lean against the doorframe of the small kitchen and watch as Blair pulls out everything from the fridge, inspecting the ingredients that fill out the kitchen counter. Her brows narrow slightly, and it’s as though an idea pops into her mind, because she heads straight to work.
“I haven’t visited Hudson since he got imprisoned,” she explains, then whisks out a wooden cutting board and a big kitchen knife. “I want to bring him homemade food. Can we get that inside?”
I laugh, pushing myself off the doorframe and stepping closer to her. “Don’t you worry about it. What were you thinking of making for him?”
“I don’t know,” she sighs. “We have enough of everything to make him some homemade lasagna, but I’m not the best cook. Come help me.”
“Lasagna it is.’’ I wash my hands, drying them off with a kitchen towel, then get started on the sauce. Blair reaches for all the veggies, cleaning, washing, and slicing them into the smallest possible pieces.
“I just remembered.” Blair turns to look at me, putting all the sliced veggies into a hot, oiled pan. “Noelle made some pancakes with strawberry syrup for Hudson. Should I get him some strawberries?”
For a moment, I’m in a state of shock. Then, I burst out laughing. Blair’s confused by the reaction, and I shake my head, a wide smile on my face. The memories of my childhood resurface, and it warms my heart.
“What’s so funny?”
“Dad’s allergic to strawberries.”
Blair’s confusion only grows. “So, was she trying to kill him?”
I shrug. “That’s kind of their thing. Trying to kill each other all the time. They’ve been enemies for a very, very long time before they got together and eventually married. It’s just their love language.”
“Their love language is trying to kill each other,” Blair repeats, baffled. “What an odd bunch.”
“Yeah, we’re not the most sane people around, but you love us.”
She chuckles, stirring the veggies. “That, I do.”
We cook for a while in comfortable silence.
The smell of the lasagna slowly coming together saturates the small kitchen, and Blair hums in response.
Over the hour we spend making the sauce, cooking everything together, Blair follows my instructions, though she does leave all the seasoning to me.
Apparently, she’s terrified of not putting in enough.
Once the lasagna is in the oven, we go back to the bedroom to get ready. Something shifts in the air around us, and Blair looks at herself in the mirror once she finishes getting ready.
She’s wearing all black, and coincidentally, we’re in matching outfits. Black, fitted shirts, looser, comfortable pants, and a pair of boots each. There’s a certain glint in her eyes that I can’t pinpoint, but it’s gone before I can truly process what it means.
“Ready?”
Blair packs up all the lasagna in two bigger containers, and I grab them out of her hands. She nods, putting her coat on.
“It’s now or never.”