Savage Ending (Savage Trilogy 4)

“Yeah, fucktard,” he says, using my word which gets him no points. “Who else do you think I mean?”

Lucifer pulls out his computer and sits down at the table. “I’m looking him up.”

“Mick was going to pay me big,” Max continues. “But he had eyes on both of us. He followed you. He got the drive in Nashville before I ever knew where you hid it. He was watching you. You aren’t as good as you think.”

“And he tried to get rid of you after he had it,” I assume. “That’s why he came at you at the cabin.”

“Yeah. It could have ended there but when he found out there was nothing in your little insurance holes, he thought I double-crossed him. He found where I was hiding my wife. He killed her. So, I killed him, and I made it hurt, but it wasn’t enough. You did this to me. Your wife needs to die. I hope she’s dead.”

That’s all I need to hear. I shoot him between the eyes.

“Well, that was kind of anticlimactic,” Dexter comments.

“No, it’s not,” Lucifer says. “Because we’re not done yet. Mick isn’t a nobody. He’s ex-CIA. His file is classified. Blake’s overriding the system. We’re looking for a photo and location for Mick.” He keys a few more strokes and says, “Got it. And oh shit.” He glances up at me. “It’s the investor from the museum.”

“Kirk Long?” I ask, this whole big picture coming together and not in a good way.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Lucifer says. “Mick looks a whole lot like Kirk. He seems to have assumed his identity.” He motions me forward and I move in behind him to peer at his computer. He enlarges a photo of each man. He’s right. They look alike but they aren’t the same person.

“Where’s the real Kirk Long?” I ask.

“I’m guessing he’s dead and Mick claimed his money, but Blake is working on that angle.”

Dexter joins us and eyes the photos. “I don’t know where Kirk is, but Mick’s in the other room, on the bed. He’s dead to the world tired.”

I eye him and decide any stupid joke told by someone else is just that: stupid. I walk to the single bedroom in the place, and Dexter wasn’t lying. Mick is dead, flat on his back on the bed, and ironically, considering how I killed Max, he has a bullet between his eyes. I walk back into the main cabin. “That’s Mick or Kirk, or whoever the asshole really is.”

Lucifer bags his computer. “I just heard from Blake. The real Kirk is on sabbatical in Europe. He told his staff and family he’d be off-grid for a month two weeks ago.”

“In other words, he’s dead,” I supply.

“Most likely,” Lucifer agrees. “We’ll know more soon. Blake said to tell you to go be with your wife. We’ll clean this up.” He tosses me the keys. “We have a ride coming.”

I don’t argue. I catch the keys and head for the door.

Five minutes later, I’m behind the wheel. Twenty minutes later, I’m at the hotel. I walk into the room and I expect Candace and Adam to be knocked out. The minute I open the door, Candace is in front of me. “What happened?”

“Where’s Adam?”

“Asleep. Rick, what happened?”

“He’s dead. I’ll explain it all later.” I drag her to me and cup her face. “I’m sorry. I can handle a lot of things, but seeing you down with blood all over you, it fucked with me. I was not in a good place.”

“I know and that’s why I calmed down, but don’t go there again.”

“Never, baby. No matter what. You are everything to me. Everything.”

“The answer can’t be that you leave me again.”

“I was never going to leave you. God, woman, I can’t lose you. That’s the bottom line. And I will do a better job of protecting you.”

“You expect too much of yourself. I just need you, but we’re all in or not at all.”

“Baby, I have always been all in with you. You are my best friend. You are my wife. My life. Forever.”

“Don’t forget that,” she whispers.

“I haven’t forgotten anything about you and me since the moment I met you.” I stroke her hair behind her ear. “What do you say, when you and Adam are well enough to leave, we pack up and go to the Hamptons and look for that land to build our forever home?”

“I’d like that, Rick. So much.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Candace

One month later…

I’m at the coffee pot in the kitchen of the gorgeous Hamptons house Rick and I have been staying at the past few weeks while looking for land. Rick thought it would give us a chance to just be us, an extended honeymoon, and it’s turned out to be wonderful.

Rick appears in the doorway in nothing but his beach trunks, all those muscles of his on display, which is just fine by me. I smile a tiny smile at the amended tattoo on his chest that no longer just says “San Antonio.” It now has my name underneath it.