Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
LIAM
Taking care of Redding should have disgusted me.
Any normal person would’ve been disgusted, and freaked out, and horrified, or a whole number of other emotions.
I have no regrets.
Ryker had smiled the whole time, explaining the best way to dispose of the body and how to ensure animals and weather would get to it as quickly as possible. We’d stripped Redding down and spread his insides around—wearing gloves this time—so decomposition would be as fast as possible.
Once Ryker was satisfied that nobody would be finding or identifying Redding anytime soon, we’d driven another hour west. We’d stopped at a pond to take a quick dip, which was freezing, before Ryker was satisfied enough to take us to some other location to set up the tent.
It’s in the middle of a field, with only a few trees around us, near a river.
And, without a canopy of trees, the sky above us is incredibly clear.
There are stars.
Real stars, bright and shining and even twinkling.
I stare up at it, surprised at the sight. There had been stars the last time we’d gone camping, of course, but it hadn’t hit this hard.
Are these always there? The entire Milky Way, and I finally understand why it’s called that. And the big dipper really does look like a pot in the sky, when I’d assumed the people of the past were mostly bored and hallucinating shit.
Ryker comes up to me and taps my foot with his. “Grab kindling for the fire. We’re going to burn a few things.”
I continue to gaze at the sky. “One sec,” I tell him. “I am in awe of nature. Do you want to ruin that moment for me?”
Ryker glances up. After a few seconds he turns off his flashlight, and we’re plunged into complete darkness.
The summer crickets trill around us. Some birds let out a cry.
“This is why I can’t stay in the cities,” Ryker says. “The bad air, the light pollution, the disrespect for the world around us.”
“The FBI agents,” I drawl.
There are going to be consequences, but I have an alibi.
Sort of.
I glance beside me at Ryker’s silhouette. “Do you think they’re gonna come after me?” I ask him.
Ryker sighs and turns the flashlight back on. “I don’t know. Did he tell anyone where he was going? Did you tell anyone where you were going? You probably should get a new phone, and a new number.”
He gets something out of his car, which turns out to be a metal firepit. He sets it down and adds Redding’s bloody shirt into it along some twigs and grass.
And gasoline.
I watch as he lights it all on fire, the flames flaring. As it dies down, he adds more of the bloodied clothes.
I set up the camping chairs and we get settled to watch it all burn.
“My sister-in-law had my brother killed,” Ryker says.
I snort. “Is she the one who wanted to fuck you?” I ask.
In the past, I’d been wary, jealous even, but I feel weirdly settled. Ryker isn’t going anywhere.
He might say I’m his, but he’s every bit as much mine.
“Yeah.” Ryker drapes his arm across my shoulders again. “She asked me to kill him the last time I was there. I refused. She found somebody who did want to fuck her enough to do the job this time.”
“You think the police will figure it out?” I ask, leaning my head against him. I want to get closer, but I don’t think it would be too comfortable to get in his lap with the camping chair.
Later, then.
Later, I’ll be all over him, rubbing my scent all over him like I’m some sort of feral animal.
“My niece overheard us talking. I guess it’ll depend on whether she tells anyone.” Ryker kisses the side of my head. “I might stop going home as regularly for a while. I don’t need any of that shit.”
“You really don’t,” I agree. “The only person whose shit you need to deal with is mine.” I pause, then ask, “Do you think you can come by more often?”
Ryker ruffles my hair. “Maybe you should be coming with me instead.”
“And do what?” I ask him skeptically. “I’d be bored out of my mind, and it’s not like I could post to my socials. I mean, I could post about nature, but I don’t think you’d let me take pictures even if we didn’t do anything, um, extracurricular.”
“My company wouldn’t be enough for you?” Ryker shrugs. “Do what they all do. Schedule things in advance. Or figure out something to do while you’re on the move. I hear book blogging is a thing these days. Hell, write a book—not about serial killers, please.”
“Book blogging,” I repeat, even more dubious. “And what would I write a book about? The trials and tribulations of being a rich, spoiled brat in New Bristol?”
But the idea is interesting. I’ve never tried to do anything outside of my comfort zone before. I wonder what I could do if I left it all behind.
“Fiction?” Ryker sighs. “I don’t know, brat. What were you doing with your life before? Is doing nothing with me that much worse than doing nothing in the city?”
“No,” I say. “I just… never thought about being anything else before.”
The thought is surprisingly uncomfortable. What had I thought I’d do with my life? Continue going to nightclubs until I got too old for it? Then what?
At least traveling with Ryker, I’d get to see the country in a new light.
“My parents would freak.” I exhale slowly. “But Gran might support it. I don’t know. I’d have to call her all the time.”
“You can fund a few luxury hotels for us, when I’m in a city for work anyway,” Ryker suggests.
I hum. “I do like luxury hotels,” I say. “And maybe if I started investing and donating to charity and that shit, it’d get everyone off my back.” What would I tell them? That I’d decided to become a nomad? My parents might cut me off.
Gran wouldn’t, though. She’d care that I’m happy.
Would I be happy with Ryker? I think I would. Besides, I could always go back if I didn’t like it.
Unless he kills me, of course, but wouldn’t it be nice to say I’d lived a little before then?
The fire starts to die down, and Ryker helps it along by covering it with dirt.
“All right. Bed time.” Ryker gets up and extends his hand to me. “I think I promised you something.”
I perk up. “An orgasm? Because my cock would really, really like that.” I take his hand, stepping in close to him for a kiss before murmuring against his mouth, “I swear I can still smell blood.”
“Because a dip in a pond isn’t the same as scrubbing with soap,” Ryker answers.
“I wasn’t complaining,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around him.
He runs his tongue along the seam of my lips. “Next time, I’ll show you a beating heart.”
I groan against his mouth, letting him taste me. “Never let anyone tell you that you aren’t romantic,” I tease.
Ryker grips my hips tightly as he kisses me. I’m forced to arch back and cling to him or risk falling over, and the new position has my head swimming as much as his kiss.
When he breaks the kiss, he looks me in the eyes, and it’s only because we’re so close to each other that I can see them at all in this darkness.
“Want me to fuck you raw?” Ryker asks, then he laughs. “That’s not really a question.”
I grin right back at him. “When don’t I want you to fuck me six ways from Sunday?” I counter. “Why aren’t you already inside of me?”
Ryker steps away from me, but he grips my hand tightly and leads me to the tent. “Don’t trip,” he says as he guides me inside.
I almost trip anyway despite his warning, and I curse. I take my shoes off, then move out of the way so he can follow me. I yank my shirt — his shirt — over my head, tossing it aside, then fumble with the large jeans I’m wearing to get those off as well.
I don’t want any excuses for why he isn’t fucking me senseless within the next two minutes. I lie down on the sleeping bag, only seeing shadows as he moves around.
Ryker closes the tent up behind us, then fumbles for something. A few seconds later, his camping lantern lights up the small space.
Ryker looms over me, his grin absolutely feral.
“My little brat,” he whispers. “I thought for sure you’d end up puking.”
I pout at him. “Really?” I demand, thoroughly offended.
He places his hand against my throat, and my breath catches. “All your kills have been bloodless. Strangulations? Not bad, but it’s not messy.”
“The first one was with a fucking shovel, remember?” I remind him, biting my lip. “What part of that makes you think I’m squeamish? I just don’t know how to clean up properly. Strangulation gets me off without making a mess.”
“The first one.” Ryker leans in, putting more weight on my throat. “With the crunch, and the man who thought he was kidnapping a helpless little waif.”
I whimper. My cock is so hard I’m leaking, and I want nothing more than to grab it and jerk myself off. I would be done in a handful of strokes, I know, and it would be amazing.
But Ryker hasn’t given me permission yet.
He moves his hand from my throat and drags his nails down to my chest. “Don’t move your hands,” he orders as his hand settles there, over my heart.
I can hear it thumping loudly in my ears.
“I jerked off thinking of murdering you,” Ryker says. He taps his fingers on my chest to the same beat as my heart.
I bite my bottom lip. “How many times?” I ask, a shiver racing down my spine.
I was more afraid of Redding than I am of Ryker potentially killing me, and isn’t that fucked up?
Ryker grins. To anyone else, that expression would probably be terrifying, but all I can think is how hot he is.
“A few times. Enough to make me come visit you despite how dumb it was.” He leans down and moves his hand so he can kiss my chest. “I’ll show you plenty of hearts. Maybe one of them will be your own.”
Groaning, I have to close my fingers into fists so I don’t move my hands. I want to touch him so badly. “Is that how you’d kill me?” I ask. “Taking my heart?”
“Yes. It’d only be fitting.” Ryker kisses my chest again, then he moves lower. He kisses my stomach, my belly button.
My erection brushes against his jaw, and I hiss in a breath.