Fearless (Broken Love, #5)(11)

“I can’t. You’re kissing me.”

I shouldn’t have said that. He pulled away from my lips but kept the length of his hard body against mine. Without the drug of his kiss, I was forced to face the raw emotion consuming the gray of his eyes. “I need to trust you.”

“You can.”

“Can I?” I was hurt by the doubt in his gaze but then reminded myself I deserved it.

My nod came slowly as I fought the lump in my throat. What did he want me to do? I needed to protect him as much as he needed to protect me. If our roles were reversed, I had no doubt he would fill my shoes the very way I did.

“Forever, Lake. I’ll love you.”

“Forever,” I whispered back, ignoring the guilt that ate at me for what I planned to do.

When he left, I breathed a little easier because if he had stayed a second longer, he would have broken me. I stood against the wall contemplating if the road I took tomorrow would doom me forever.

Get a grip, Monroe.

How hard could killing one man be?



*



I sent emails to my professors bright and early, excusing my absence, and arrived at the rehabilitation center later that morning. Little sleep and a long drive had done nothing to settle my rattled nerves. All night, I had battled my conscience and the nagging thought that this wouldn’t end well.

Keeping my head low, I made my way to the back exit I’d noticed employees use for a smoke break during my grandmother’s intake. Unfortunately, it was locked from the outside.

Checking to make sure the coast was clear, I ducked behind the dumpster close by and waited. It wasn’t long—twenty-three minutes to be exact—when the first employee burst through the door with a lit cigarette already in hand. He had his phone to his ear cursing whoever was on the line and didn’t see me as I stealthily caught the heavy door and slipped inside.

The smell of the center was similar to Red Rock, so at least, my grandmother had that. I resisted the strong urge to visit her. Her Alzheimer had progressed over the years making her less lucid and less my grandmother each time she saw me. Pictures and other memorabilia no longer helped. It seemed we were destined to lose her one way or another. The part of my heart she held had already broken and was ready to let her go. I only wished I knew which part was selfish.

Brushing off thoughts of my grandmother, I took a deep breath and followed the direction Sheldon reluctantly had given me. When she questioned why I needed to know his room number, I hadn’t known myself, but I stored the information anyway. I only told her it was to keep a safe distance. Over two weeks, I slowly let the idea of what I had to do take root until I couldn’t see any other solution.

Mitch had to die.

Since I entered from a back exit, it wasn’t as easy to find his room, but eventually, I stood in front of room 216. The center was a pretty large one-level building with the dying tucked far away from recovering survivors. This corner was left deserted except for the residents confined to die alone in their rooms. On the other side of the building, I knew nurses and family members roamed.

Here, no one cared.

Those dying were left for dead.

It was only because of the fear of death and the need to avoid it I was able to slip into his room undetected. The room was lit only by a slither of sunlight to keep the room from being completely shadowed by darkness. There were no pictures or memorabilia to overburden the small room. Nothing to testify that the form lying still on the bed meant something to the world. Mitch Masters would leave nothing behind but a legacy of nightmares and greed.

“I knew you would come back for me.”

The voice that traveled from the other side of the room was a far cry from the man who kidnapped and held me for ransom four years ago. He didn’t look capable of killing anyone, much less his son.

“Hello, Mitch.” His head turned to face me, and I knew he was searching my voice out in the dark. I imagined his eyes would be wild with fear and uncertainty.

“Who’s there?” He tried to sound unfazed, but it lacked the luster from four years ago. All I heard was desperation to know who had intruded.

“Or is it Mr. Martin? You favor false identity if I remember correctly.” If I weren’t so alert to my surroundings, I would have missed the way his breath caught.

“Impossible.”

“Oh?”

“Why are you here and not my son? He got you doing his dirty work for him now? Didn’t think he had it him,” he answered before I could. I detected a hint of pride among the malicious intent of his taunt.

“He doesn’t know I’m here.” It was hard to catch, but a smile slowly spread across his withering face.

“Bad mistake, little girl. I admit, I don’t know my son well, but a blind fool could tell he likes control—most of all, of you. You lied to him.”

“I did.”

“I’m flattered.” His voice was bitter when he spoke again. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“My presence will be anything but pleasurable for you.”

“My, my, how you’ve grown.” He was smiling again. “He has sunk his claws into you, hasn’t he?”

“This isn’t about me, Mitch.” I felt the pain from my teeth grinding and bit down harder, doing anything to keep him from making me run.