Page 159 of Only for Him

In the time it takes me to blink, I hear the wet, final sound of justice.

I taste copper, even though I’m yards away from the blood. My body is trembling enough that the world keeps jerking to the left, like an engine misfiring under the hood.

Roman’s hand returns to my shoulder. He squeezes once, then lets go. For a second, I wish he’d hold on tighter. I’m not sure I can stand on my own.

My teeth chatter as I push myself upright. Russo is slumped forward on the plastic sheet, chin pressed to the floor, a widening fan of red blooming out beneath him.

His face is still twisted in the last emotion he ever had: a perfect split between relief and shame. The last dead man I saw was a schoolteacher whose only crime was paying for sex from someone whose history he didn’t know.

I remember how dirty and ugly and awful I felt when that man said he was sorry, and I killed him anyway.

I look at Roman. He’s already turned away, as if the kill is just another item crossed off the to-do list. A ritual performed a thousand times, that almost became second nature for me, too.

Because ofhim.

My shadow.

My fucking nightmare.

Don’t just cower here. For once in this whole sad fucking saga, do the right thing. Be Detective Cantiano.

I get to my feet, finally ready to face him.

40

ROMAN

The blood seepsin slow motion across the plastic sheet, pooling under Russo’s corpse. The air is so thick I taste it in the back of my throat.

I study Giselle in profile. Her hands shake so hard her knuckles go white. I wait for her to speak, but the only sounds are the settling of Russo’s corpse and the faint, perpetual hum of the city outside her window.

When I step closer, she turns away, shoulders drawing in. Her breath stutters. She won’t look at me.

“Giselle,” I say. “It’s done.”

She spins. Her eyes are boiling over.

“Done? You think this is over?” The words bite. “I’m going to have to live with this for the rest of my fucking life, Roman.”

“Live with what? Satisfaction? Don’t feel guilty for getting what you wanted, little viper.”

“You think I wanted this?”

Her whole body trembles now. I can see the scream locked in her throat. I’m taken aback. I thought she might be groveling, apologizing for the moment of weakness. Instead, she’s burning.

Not with me butatme.

Ungrateful. She’s fucking ungrateful. Anger throbs at the base of my neck.

Still, I hold my temper.

For now.

“I did what you couldn’t,” I remind her. “He wasn’t the man you thought he was.”

She sucks in a breath like she’s choking on it, wipes her face with the heel of her hand.

“I didn’t wantthis,” she hisses. “I never would have had to—if you hadn’t—I didn’taskfor any of this!”