Chapter 47 #2
“Can’t say I haven’t dreamed of seeing this moment,” I comment, dropping to my knees next to Kaia, placing my gun on the floor beside me.
I glance across to Kaia, her tear-stained face punching me right in the gut. Even with all that he’s done, he’s still her father. “But you’re not dying today, Watson. The guys are on their way. We’ll get you to the hospital.”
I reach for Kaia, brushing her hair from her wet face, nudging her to face me. “You okay, butterfly?”
She leans into my touch as I cup her cheek. “I am now you’re here. God, I was so scared—” her voice cracks as more tears fall. “I was scared he was going to kill me before I could tell you…” she glances down to her belly.
“I know, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about. But I’m not going anywhere, not ever. You’re stuck with me.” I press a kiss to her mouth, it’s brief but I savour it.
She melts into me and I lift her to straddle my lap as I kneel on the floor. I band my arms around her and hers lock around my neck as she cries into my shoulder, her head nestled into the crook of my neck.
The rumble of bikes grows louder, the vibrations rippling through my chest, the sound is both a familiar and welcome one.
Lawless.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I hold Kaia a little tighter, knowing we’re safe. Everything is going to be okay.
I glance down at Watson to find his wide eyes fixed on something behind me.
I follow his eyes. Naylor is on his feet, a gun now in his hand and his murderous eyes locked on me.
I feel around for the gun on the floor next to me but it’s gone. I look down, only to hear the flick of the safety. My gun is in Watson’s hand and he has it aimed directly at Naylor.
Bang!
My arms instinctively tighten around Kaia who screams as the shot rings out, shielding her.
The gun slips from Naylor’s hand, clattering to the ground, his dead empty eyes wide as he collapses to the floor.
Lifeless.
“Is it over?” Kaia asks, pulling back to meet my eyes.
I smooth her hair from her face, pressing my lips to her forehead. “It’s over, butterfly.”
A stampede of footsteps charge up the stairs, the guys rushing into the room a second later.
Myles surveys the scene, his eyes wide and alert. “Fuck, you guys okay? We heard the gunshot.”
Kaia shifts off me, allowing me to stand.
“We’re fine. Naylor’s dead,” I say.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Jett snarls, his eyes fixed on Watson.
“Help me get him into the truck. He needs a hospital, now.”
“Can we not just leave him?”
I pin my best friend with my eyes. “No. He’s Kaia’s father and like I told him, if anyone’s gonna kill him, it’ll be me.”
“And him?” Alex asks, nodding towards Naylor’s lifeless body. “Is he the trash you were talking about?”
I nod.
Cru slaps me on the back. “With fucking pleasure.” He starts towards the body, followed by Beau.
Myles and Jett cross the room, helping Watson onto his feet with a pained groan, taking his weight around their shoulders.
“Wait.” Kaia jumps up from where she’s kneeling beside her father to join us, wiping her bloody hands down her clothes. “Let the police handle this one.”
“Why the fuck would we do that? When have the cops ever helped us?” Alex snaps.
“Watch your tone, brother,” I warn.
“Because when they see my dad’s been shot, the doctors are gonna call them anyway. There will be questions,” Kaia points out.
“Then he just needs to keep his mouth shut, doesn’t he?” Alex says before joining Cru and Beau.
“He’s right, butterfly. Trust us, we know what we’re doing.”
Her eyes flick to me. “Because that worked out so well for me the last time.”
“You owe us big time for this, Watson,” Jett says as he and Myles carry him past us through the doorway followed by the rest of the guys except for Cru, Beau and Alex who are dealing with Naylor’s body.
“I’m sorry,” Kaia sighs. “I didn’t mean what I said. It’s been a long day.”
“I deserved it.”
She takes my hand. “No, you didn’t.”
“Like I said earlier, we’ve got a lot to talk about. First we need to get your dad to the hospital, then we’ll talk, okay?”
She smiles wearily. “Okay.”
With her hand in mine, we head downstairs.
“Killian?” she asks as we reach the bottom.
I turn to her. “Yeah, baby?”
“I love you.”
I can’t hold back the grin that stretches ear to ear as I tug her closer, enveloping her in my arms, vowing to never let her go again. “And I fucking love you, butterfly. More than anything.”
For years I imagined myself killing Curt Naylor in a thousand different ways.
The idea of drawing out his death so he’d feel even a fraction of the torture he made me endure used to consume so many of my thoughts.
I wanted to be the one to end his life. Thought it was something I needed so I could move forward with mine.
But now, the image of his limp blood-stained body lying on the floor upstairs, I can’t bring myself to care that I wasn’t the one to kill him.
It’s not important to me anymore.
Because with the love of my life wrapped up in my arms where she belongs, our baby growing in her belly, I’ve got everything I’ll ever need right here in front of me.