Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ALEX
I pulled up outside Kit’s at just after two in the morning, every muscle in my body aching with exhaustion.
My meeting with Parker had dragged on for hours, every angle of the transfer to Kelvin examined, debated, and dissected until my head throbbed.
All I wanted now was Kit—his warmth, his smile, the way he made the rest of the world fade into background noise.
The house was dark, not a single light visible, not even the porch light Kit always left on. My hand stilled on the key in the ignition. Kit always left the light on, but I was too tired, my nerves stretched too thin to think anything more of it.
I rushed to the door, through the drizzle that was that remained of the earlier storm, my key at the ready.
Something hard crunch underfoot. Glass. Where the porch light had been was the broken, jagged remains of the bulb.
The weak, yellow light from the street lamp was just strong enough to illuminate the rest of the glass shards, kicked to the side of the door.
What the fuck had happened? Fear exploded in my chest. I scrambled to open the door, but I’d barely scratched at the lock when it flew open.
Mud streaked Kit’s clothes, was smeared across his arms and face. His hair hung in damp clumps across his forehead. But it was his eyes, wide, glassy, and red-rimmed, that sent ice tumbling down my spine.
“Kit? What the—”
He didn’t answer, as his legs buckled. I barely caught him before he hit the floor. His body was ice-cold and trembling as I clutched hold of him.
“He killed him,” Kit choked out, his voice raw and broken. His fingers twisted into the fabric of my jacket. “Buster. He—oh God, Alex—he killed him.”
“What?” The word came out in a rush as I pulled him closer. “Who killed Buster?” I kicked the door closed behind me, and fumbled for the light switch.
“The SUV. It was him. I know it was.” The words tumbled out in breathless, panicked fragments as Kit stared up at me, eyes bulging with fear.
“He—he followed me. From the alleyway. All the way home. He was waiting for me—he wanted me to see what he’d done.
Buster—he was—” His voice broke with a gut wrenching sob.
“He cut off his head, left the rest of his body on the doorstep. What kind of sick bastard does that to a defenceless animal?”
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. The words hung in the air between us, cold and heavy, sinking into my chest like stones. My breath came hard and fast, my heart hammered against my ribs as the pieces clicked into place. The SUV. The mutilated cat. The visceral, bloody, message.
Him.
Kelvin.
This was how he worked. Fear, intimidation, cold and calculated cruelty. I’d seen it so many times over the years, seen him dish it out to others. But tonight, he’d gone after Kit. Which meant he’d gone after me.
Rage surged through me, hot and blinding.
My hands clenched, itching for violence, for action, for anything that would release the fury that clawed at my chest. Kelvin, turning up at Kit’s and demanding to be let in.
Kelvin, breaking into Kit’s home. I should have pushed back harder and faster, got into his face, confronted him with everything I had.
But I hadn’t. Instead I’d enabled him to do what he’d done tonight, because I’d not pushed back hard enough.
This time he’d not just crossed a line, he’d obliterated it. And he was going to pay.
“Where’s Buster now?” I asked, trying my hardest to keep my voice calm as I led Kit, still holding tight to me as though afraid I’d disappear if he loosened his grip, into the living room where I eased him down onto the sofa.
Kit’s hands trembled as he gestured toward the back of the house.
“I buried him. In the garden. Under the pear tree. I—I couldn’t leave him like that.
I couldn’t—” His voice cracked again, and fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.
“I just kept digging. The mud… I kept slipping over, but I didn’t care.
I had to do it. I had to.” He clutched at me, his shoulders quaking as his sobs shook him.
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tighter than I’d ever done before.
Jesus Christ. Kit, alone in the rain, scared to death, crying as he dug a grave for a mutilated cat; the image branded itself onto my brain. My teeth ground hard as my fury reached boiling point. I couldn’t let this go. I wouldn’t. Kelvin had sent a message, and now I was going to send one back.
“I’m going to deal with this. Right now. I’m not letting him get away with it.”
“What?” Kit’s head snapped up as he lurched backward, his eyes wide with panic. “No—Alex, no. You can’t.”
“This is it, Kit. He’s done. He thinks he can do this to you, that I’ll let him? He doesn’t know who the fuck he’s messing with, not this time.”
“Please.” Kit’s voice cracked, rising in pitch as his fear grew. “Please, Alex. Don’t leave me. You can’t—he might come back. What if he’s still out there? What if—”
“He’s not coming back.” No, Kelvin wouldn’t be back, because he’d done everything he’d set out to do.
“I can’t—I can’t be alone. Not now. Please, Alex. Don’t go. Please.”
His voice sliced through the haze of my fury.
I looked at him, really looked at him, as I pushed down on my molten hot anger.
The sight made my chest ache. Kit looked like he was about to shatter, and I understood, with a sickening pang, that if I walked out that door that’s what would happen. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that to him.
“I—” The words caught in my throat, tangled with the anger that still burned hot and sharp in my chest. My hands bunched and flexed, torn between the need to hold Kit and the need to destroy Kelvin. I wanted to do both. I needed to do both.
“Please,” Kit whispered again, his voice hardly above a whisper. “I need you.”
Kit collapsed against me. There was no way I could leave him alone. I’d deal with Kelvin, even if it took the last breath in my body, but here and now it was Kit, and what he needed, that mattered most.
“Okay.” I kissed his hair, keeping my voice calm and level. “Okay, Kit. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
He sagged against me, his body going limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. I took his hands in mine. They were still caked with mud, his nails broken from where he’d dug through the earth; the sight made something twist painfully in my chest.
“I should have protected him.” Kit’s voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear him. “I should have—”
“This isn’t your fault,” I said, cutting him off. “You understand? This is on Kelvin. No one else.”
“But—” His voice cracked. “I can still see him. Buster. I can’t stop seeing him. The blood, the way he was left, like he was nothing more than a piece of rubbish.”
My fury simmered just beneath the surface, begging for release, but I forced it down. Kelvin would have to wait. Right now, Kit was breaking apart in front of me, and I had to hold him together. I placed a couple of fingers under his chin, coaxing his head up. “Look at me. Kit, look at me.”
He did, and Jesus but it nearly broke me, as he stared back at me with so much hopeless desolation in his eyes all I wanted to do was weep.
“Come on.” I brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”
He didn’t argue, didn’t resist as I guided him upstairs to the bathroom. The house felt eerily silent around us, the kind of silence that pressed in from all sides and made you feel like you were suffocating.
I turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until steam started to rise. Kit stood motionless in the center of the room, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his gaze far away.
“Arms up,” I said gently, reaching for the hem of his mud-streaked shirt.
He obeyed without a word, letting me peel away his clothes.
“You’re freezing.” His skin was like ice under my touch. “Let’s get you clean and warmed up.”
I helped him step into the shower, holding him steady as the warm water cascaded over him.
For a moment, he just stood there, his head bowed, his arms dangling at his sides.
I shed my own clothes and stepped in with him.
Taking a sponge, I squirted it with shower gel, its warm vanilla scent filling the cubicle.
Slowly, little by little, I began to wash away the mud that caked his skin, working methodically from top to bottom.
Last of all, I washed his hair. He stood still, letting me take care of him.
“I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” My stomach clenched. I’d promised him safety before, and failed him. This time, it was a promise I’d keep, no matter what I had to do, or to whom.
When the water finally ran clear and the mud was gone, I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel.
Kit shivered as the cool air hit his wet skin, and I quickly wrapped the towel around him, rubbing and patting him dry.
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes stayed locked on mine, wide and vulnerable, as though he was afraid I might disappear if he looked away.
“You’re okay,” I said again, guiding him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”
I found a T-shirt and a pair of soft, worn boxers. His movements were sluggish, as he let me dress him as though he were a doll. When I finally got him into bed, I crawled in next to him. He curled into me immediately, winding his arm around me, hooking a leg over mine.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered. “Please, Alex. Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I brushed my fingers through his damp hair. “I’m right here.”
He clung to me until exhaustion finally overtook him. His grip loosened, his body sagging as he drifted into sleep as I lay wide awake.
I ground my teeth hard. Kelvin was going to pay for what he’d done.