Epilogue
Jonesy
Apparently, when you try to cover up your illegitimate son’s murders, you don’t get to keep your job.
Instead, you have a very public trial, which is ironic considering how much you pushed for military control of the crime you were trying to cover up.
It also means all your recent decision-making at work comes into question.
Which is good for me because my transfer to the East Coast has been revoked, and I am one hundred percent staying in Seattle for the foreseeable future.
Colonel Rogers was stripped of his military rank, pension, and medals and dishonorably discharged before he entered Hodgkins River prison, the same prison that Connor Maddox had been detained in all those months ago.
Connor, of course, is free, returning to his girlfriend Hannah’s house, where he belongs.
She made a quick recovery, physically at least. Her bruised ribs healed, and with two parts water to one part lemon juice, and a fuck ton of scrubbing, the stench has long been gone.
She’s still a she-devil. There has not been a demure moment since the guys and I saved her.
She’s been fighting the entire time. Fighting the police to get back on the case, fighting Travis Marrs’s defense team in the preliminary hearing, fighting me at charades and Scrabble, even in the bedroom when the mood takes us.
Her tastes haven’t changed much, despite having a real-life serial killer experience.
But then again, it isn’t much about the serial killer aspect that she likes. She wants to be owned whilst she begs for relief. She wants to scream and punch and fight as she claws her way to her climax, and I’m more than happy to give her exactly what she needs.
So now, after a mandated vacation implemented by Detective Biceps, her house is almost complete. There are a few finishing touches to finalize, but it’s a real home, somewhere she can actually relax after work rather than holing up in her bedroom, only coming out once a month for dinner club.
I moved in with her by force, refusing to leave her alone those first few weeks as I used up my own vacation days expertly tiling, painting, and laying flooring.
My apartment sits empty except for when we go out in the city for the evening or want to try something unfamiliar and heighten her fear receptors.
As I unlock the door, the scent of the new perfume she’s started to wear invades my senses. I throw my keys into the bowl and spot a note on the side table.
Getting ready. Help yourself to anything.
Katie x
And with that invitation and the heavy weight of something precious in my pocket, I head upstairs to help myself to exactly what I’d like right now.
Katie
Jonesy is lying on my bed. Well, our bed, now that he lives here full-time.
He didn’t have an official move-in date, but suddenly, my closet space halved, and his socks were on the floor all the damn time.
But it’s fine because you apparently put up with things like that when you’re in love with someone.
And to be fair, he’s in his uniform, grinning, his eyes raking down my body like he’s attempting telekinesis with my towel.
I drop it for him, and he groans into the mattress before lifting himself off, stalking toward me. His knuckles graze my nipple before he trails down my stomach, between my legs, cupping me roughly as his fingers tease my entrance.
“I missed you today,” he murmurs against my lips.
“You’re the one who left me all alone on a Saturday,” I whine.
“I had some work, and then I had things to do . . . for tonight.”
“Oh yeah? What’s tonight except for dinner club?”
He twists me around, pushing me roughly onto the bed, grabbing my foot, and kissing down my ankle. He unbuttons his uniform, his fingers making quick work of undoing each button. His desperation is obvious as his hard cock pushes against my pussy through his pants.
“Give me your hands, princess.”
I lick my lips, fighting the grin that attempts to transform my face as I hold out my hands in front of my chest.
“I still can’t get over how much you love this,” he murmurs, taking his time binding my wrists together. Once I’m bound, he yanks me up to a seated position, pulling me toward him until my feet are on the floor. I expect him to unzip himself, but he moves to his pocket instead.
He lowers himself onto one knee . . .
Holy shit balls.
“Are you really doing this as I’m naked and tied up?”
His signature I’m winning grin makes an appearance as he opens up the small black velvet box, revealing a stunning emerald haloed with diamonds on a gold band.
It’s staggering. The green perfectly encapsulates the forest surrounding Lottie’s house.
The view we wake up to every time we stay around there.
“You can’t run away if you’re naked and tied up.” He kisses my hand before sliding the ring onto my finger. He doesn’t even ask. The absolute asshole hasn’t even asked; he’s just claimed me, put the ring on my finger like the answer is inevitable.
“We’ve only been together a few months. And I’m not even sure you can count the first month; it was just us fighting,” I splutter.
“We’ve been fighting for years. Best time of my life.” He’s so calm it’s frustrating.
“Jonesy, you can’t be serious.”
I lift my hand, admiring the ring, and I hate to admit my resolve is crumbling.
Jonesy squeezes my hands, breathing out a low, steady breath.
He’s in desperate need of a haircut again, the ends curling, kissing the tops of his ears.
He’s been keeping it a little longer because he loves it when I pull it.
His eyes focus on mine, and he shakes his head slightly as if he’s trying to steel himself.
“Katie Murphy, you are the strongest person I’ve ever known.
You’ve survived two serial killers, and you’ve survived me being an idiot for the last fifteen years and not doing this the day I met you.
I promise I will fight with you every day.
I will fight over board games, over murder mysteries, over which side of the bed you want to sleep on.
I’ll fight your demons, your nightmares.
I’ll fight you in bed for the rest of our lives if that's what you want.” He swallows, and I watch the roll of his throat before he licks his lips, bracing himself to ask the question I want to hear from him.
Because I do want it. I didn’t even realize how much until this moment.
“Fight with me forever, princess? As my wife . . . please?”
The please breaks me, and I nod.
How could I say no? I’ve loved him since I was eighteen.
It’s like my heart knew he was the one ever since then, and it’s taken us fifteen years to sort our shit out until we remembered how well we work together.
I fight the tears that spring up, of how grateful I am for this man.
How he saved me, not just that day in the basement, but in the weeks before, when I thought I couldn’t do my job anymore.
When I thought I was losing my mind with shame and confusion, surviving on four hours of sleep a night.
“I love you so much. It scares me. But God, I want you on your knees like this every day.”
His eyes widen, as if I’m about to give him everything he’s ever wanted, and my heart soars, my chest warming from all the love he’s pushing my way.
“You’ll marry me?” he whispers.
“Yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”
He crushes his lips against mine in a brutal kiss before pushing me back onto the bed, sliding down his zipper, and claiming me over and over again.