Epilogue
LIAM
Gran wraps her arms around me, sniffling a bit. “You won’t stay away for too long, right?”
I shake my head even though I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. “I’ll call you as often as I can,” I promise, “but we’ll be in and out of places with cell service.” I kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll take pictures and send postcards and all the tourist things.”
Only for the places where we don’t kill, of course.
I have been buzzing with excitement, though I’m keeping that in check in front of Gran. Ryker had promised to show me a beating heart, and I intend to hold him to that.
As soon as I step through Gran’s front door, I’ve got a whole new life ahead of me.
Gran pulls away slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes. Hers are slightly red, and I wish I was normal so I could look sadder too. “It is good to see that you’re doing something with yourself, bubeleh. I was worried you’d be miserable forever.”
“Miserable?” I cock my head to the side. “Why do you think I was miserable?”
Gran arches a brow.
“That obvious, huh?” I ask, though really, I hadn’t been all that miserable. Bored, but not miserable.
Now, though, I would be miserable if I didn’t have Ryker in my life.
“That man had better take care of you,” Gran tells me, squeezing me again.
“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself,” I say.
“Not in the outdoors, you can’t,” she retorts with a slight smirk on her lips.
“Yet,” I correct her. “I’ve been watching all sorts of videos, and Rider’s gonna teach me all the things I need to know. I already know how to put up a tent!”
Gran shakes her head. “Not something I ever thought I’d hear you say.”
“I know, right?” I grin.
She finally lets me go. “I expect you here for Mitzki’s bar mitzvah,” she says.
“Oh my god,” I lament. “Are you really throwing the cat a bar mitzvah?”
“Your mother turned six shades of red when I mentioned it.” Gran chuckles. “Besides, it’s an excuse for you to come home and visit. That, and my birthday, and my anniversary.”
I shake my head, stepping back. “Rider’s waiting,” I tell her. “I should get going.”
Gran grumbles, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. She still has a strong grip, no matter what she might say about getting old and frail, and I squeeze back. “I love you, Liam,” she says.
“I love you, too, Gran,” I reply.
She squeezes my hand. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Me? Always,” I say.
She does not look like she believes me.
I nudge her. “Rider’s been a good influence on me. You have to admit that.”
“I do,” she agrees. “But he’s still taking my grandson away from me. On an adventure, perhaps, but still away. Call me often.”
I nod at the order. I’ll have plenty to tell her, I’m sure, about the new endeavors I’ve embarked upon — the fucking bookish social media I’ve started that has nothing to do with true crime, and the thoughts of writing a book of my own.
Who would’ve ever thought a year earlier that I’d be anything but a socialite?
Maggie isn’t thrilled either, but now that she has a girlfriend of her own—therapy really can get you laid—she’s more understanding.
I get it, Liam. But you’d better visit, she’d said.
I kiss Gran on the cheek again, hug her, and head to the front door. I grab my suitcase and step outside into the late August sun, unable to keep the anticipatory smile off of my lips as I head outside where Ryker is waiting.
He has a new car, one that’s so old I don’t recognize the model. Ryker is leaning against the trunk, browsing his phone.
“Is that one of those cyber—” I joke, bursting into laughter when Ryker glares at me.
“No, this isn’t a car that disintegrates under water,” Ryker says. “It’s an old off-roader. An actual off-roader, with suspension that can handle uneven terrain.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t look anything like one of those monstrosities.”
It doesn’t, but it’s fun to rile him up.
I shoo him away from the trunk so I can get to it and put my suitcase inside.
Then I’m on him, my arms wrapped around him tight as I seek out his lips in a desperate kiss.
“I missed you so much,” I murmur against his mouth.
“You missed orgasms, is what you missed,” Ryker answers, grinning. He reaches down to cup my cock through my jeans.
And this is why I hadn’t wanted him to meet me inside with Gran watching on. As it is, I can’t be sure she’s not watching from the window, so I reluctantly bat his hand away.
It doesn’t help that I’m so pent up that I think I could come from barely anything, and I want to wait until he’s inside of me before breaking my dry spell.
He’d let me come a grand total of once over the last two months, and I’m feeling it.
“That too,” I agree. “So take me to a hotel and fuck me like you hate me.”
We break apart, and I have to wait for Ryker to manually unlock the passenger side door because apparently this model is so old, it doesn’t even have the auto-locks. I notice with dismay that the window has one of those old-school rotating handles, too.
“Why do you hate technology? You’re not that old,” I grumble as I fasten my seatbelt.
Ryker starts the car up. “Why do I hate electronics that spy on your every move and send data back to the government about your location?”
“Um,” I say. “You’re such a luddite. You think automatic doors and windows send info back to the government? Next you’re going to tell me we can’t have a radio. Or AC.” I stare at the console, where it has a fucking tape player—and thankfully, controls for air conditioning.
Ryker sets up his smartphone, which has way more spyware on it than any car, to somehow connect to an old-school cassette tape with a weird looking wire.
“I didn’t even think these existed anymore,” I tell him, examining it. “Shouldn’t this be in a museum somewhere?”
“Sure. Tell me which museum wants it.” Ryker does half a turn, then points out the window. “I think your grandmother wants something.”
I follow his gesture to see Gran coming out the mansion. I huff and painstakingly roll down my window.
She approaches the car, and I tense when I see the tears in her eyes.
“Liam, bubeleh.” She reaches out to brush my hair. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I’m gonna miss you too, Gran.” I reach out to take her hand again. “But I’ll be calling! And I’ll visit,” I remind her.
She sniffs in the way I know means she’s holding back tears. Then she looks toward Ryker. “If anything happens to Liam, know that you’ll have the whole New Bristol police force breathing down your neck. As well as an entire law firm.”
Ryker inclines his head to her. “I wouldn’t want it any other way, ma’am. I’m going to treat Liam like a precious doll.”
I fight the urge to snort. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” I assure her. “He treats me like I’m a prince.”
Gran wipes at the corner of her eye with her handkerchief, which I’m 99% sure she brought out for effect. I come by drama honestly.
“You’ll be back for Rosh Hashanah, of course,” Gran says definitively.
I glance at Ryker, then look back at Gran. Three weeks should be plenty of time for us to get up to all sorts of trouble in the wilderness.
“I’ll be back in time,” I agree.
“I’ll make sure he’s here for it,” Ryker promises. “I wouldn’t want to deprive him.”
Gran sniffs, but she seems appeased. She gives me one more kiss before stepping away.
I wave out the window to her as we drive off. After a few seconds of fumbling, I remember I can’t automatically roll the window back up so I’m forced to manually roll it up.
“Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish New Year, right? And then it’s Yom Kippur right after.” Ryker says.
I give him a look. “Not right after. It’s twelve days. But how do you know?”
“The internet’s a thing. I’m not that old, remember?” Ryker smiles as he pulls into traffic. “Yom Kippur might be interesting. No food, no water, no sex. Probably no murder, too.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yep. I’m supposed to atone for my sins and consider how best not to repeat them in the future. Not that murder is ever forgivable. I suck at being Jewish.”
I’d suck at any sort of religion, unless there’s one that still commits bloody sacrifices.
“Funny. I suck at being Christian.” Ryker gets us onto the busy main streets, where traffic means we’re going at a crawl. It’s going to take at least twenty minutes to reach the highway.
He was right that public transportation is usually faster.
“So I need to get you back within three weeks. We can do that. I’ve got one job in Ohio, but aside from that, I booked us a cabin up by one of the lakes. I’ll teach you how to fish.”
“You expect me to put my hands on a slimy, flapping fish?” I ask him, wrinkling my nose. “Nope. I’ll be there for moral support.”
Ryker rolls his eyes. I might not be able to see his eyes, but I know he rolled them. It’s a certain quality in the air.
“You don’t want to learn how to use a fileting knife?” Ryker asks. “That’s too bad.”
“Oh, that’s some blackmail shit,” I complain. “Fine, okay, whatever, but if I end up smelling like fish all over, I’m gonna be cranky.”
“Soap generally helps with washing away nasty smells.” Ryker points to his phone. “Can you start up the podcast so I don’t need to listen to your whining?”
“You know you missed my whining,” I tell him. “And you haven’t even called me brat once. Maybe I lost my touch.”
“Okay, how about, start the podcast, you brat? I was in the middle of the NewVa Poisoner case.” Ryker shakes his head. “I wonder what they get out of it. At least half the victims consumed the poison hours before they died, so the killer wouldn’t even have been able to see their expressions.”
“Doesn’t sound like fun at all,” I agree. “But hey, to each their own.”
I hit play on the podcast.
“Marcus Burgundy was in the prime of his life. He had a wife, two stepchildren, a great job, a large circle of friends. But one stormy Halloween night, that all came to an end.
This is the story of how a beloved athlete ran the last race of his life—and the dark secrets that were uncovered in the search for his murderer.
The list of suspects is long, yet every single one has an alibi, leaving us to wonder: was this yet another victim of the New Valence Poisoner?”
Bloody or not, the murderer has promise.
I settle back in my seat to listen.
“By the way,” Ryker says as we finally reach the interstate. “I bought a cock cage.”
“You bought a what now?” I ask him, my eyebrows shooting up. “I hope this is a joke, because you are not putting one of those on me.”
“I figured it would be fun.” Ryker reaches over and squeezes my crotch. “For me.” He gives me a quick grin. “And that’s what matters, right?”
“You are an insufferable dick,” I inform him, even as I arch up into his touch. “Just in case I haven’t said that recently.”
“Careful. If you talk back too much, I might have to cut you a bit,” Ryker threatens. “Also, don’t you fucking dare come inside my car.”
“Maybe I want you to cut me a bit,” I retort. “And I will come if you keep that up.”
“All the more reason for me to cage you.” Ryker pulls his hand away. “Just think. Your life would have been so simple if you hadn’t gotten into my car that day.”
“Simple, but boring,” I remark. “But we’ll see.”
Of course, if Ryker really wants it, that means I’ll do it, and we both know it.
But it’ll be worth it because the tradeoff more than makes it worth it.
A little bit of orgasm denial in exchange for a bloody murder or three?
Yeah. I’m in.