Page 41 of Her Dom's Secret Past

Chapter Twelve

Anabelle

“John,” I whispered to myself as it sank in that he’d left the room.

Realizing he was walking out of my life forever, I raced to the front door, practically wrenching it off its hinges. I ran to the banister, peered over it and down into the stairwell. John had already reached the bottom of the stairs, about to open the entrance door and leave. I’d never see him again.

No! I couldn’t let this man I loved so dearly walk away.

I screamed his name, “John!”

He turned and stared up at me.

I mouthed, “John,” but no words came out as I tried to say his name again. I clung weakly to the banister as he began the climb to reach my side. I could see he used the handrail, dragging his leg slightly. What had I done? He reached me and stood, panting slightly.

“Don’t go,” I whispered.

“Anabelle, are you sure?”

I was slightly insane at that moment because my reply caught me off guard.

“You haven’t had dessert.”

Fuck. Where the hell did that come from? That isn’t what I intended to say.

John laughed, a genuine belly laugh, and kissed the top of my head.

“In that case, I’d better stay.”

We went back inside. He was definitely limping. He sat back heavily on the settee and gave a little grimace as he tried to get comfortable. Me? I stood there like the idiot I was.

“I’m sorry. I’ve made your leg ache.”

Heaven, I couldn’t speak sensibly. John held his hand out and I took it. He pulled me down to sit alongside him again.

“Anabelle, forget my leg. Talk to me.”

I put my hands in my lap. Yes, he deserved that. He’d given me total honesty and for a while, I’d insulted and ignored him. He needed to know what was going on in my head. Where to start? How to say things? He didn’t pressure me to speak, allowing me to shift through my thoughts before I answered. Finally, I spoke.

“I only heard you admit to killing. Nothing else seemed to get through my head, even though I heard you. I kept thinking of Mafia hit men, James Bond, or something like that, stupid, I know.”

He took my hand again.

“I couldn’t see past it. I couldn’t see what you were trying to explain. To be honest, I only half-heard the last few things you said, I was trying to … to … um. Trying to make sense and put everything in perspective. I realize I did you an injustice calling you a professional killer. I can’t imagine you enjoyed any moment. I’m sorry.”

He smiled at me. Oh man, that smile, it hit every part of me and I basked in it.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Anabelle.” He put his free hand over his heart. “I know it must be hard to understand, to accept the things I’ve done, but I swear never, never did I kill someone in cold blood. It was always the last resort. It was either kill or be killed.

“I have to live with every death ’til the end of my life. It isn’t a burden I take lightly, and I regret every single one. Do you understand, Anabelle?” There was a little desperation in his voice.

“I think I do, it’s hard, but I…” I cocked my head. I had no idea how to relate, but I tried. “I accept that as a cop you would have to make choices that meant someone may die. I understand you weren’t a normal police officer as I would know them, but that you worked for the side of law.”

“Always, Anabelle. Always.”

I studied him. He was no different from the man I’d met weeks back. He hadn’t grown horns, and he wasn’t wearing a gun.

“You have to know, Ana, every death was thoroughly investigated. If it had been found I’d overstepped the mark, then believe me, I’d be in jail, no question about it.”