Theirs to Protect - Julia Sykes Page 0,6

to my babygirl, I’d go back and finish the job.

Sirens wailed in the distance, commanding my attention. I had to get the fuck away from the crime scene before the authorities arrived.

I shouldered open the glass door to the waffle shop, careful to keep my hands shoved deep in my jacket pockets. I had to wash off the blood and destroy the last of the evidence.

Luckily, the tiny café was too busy for any of the staff members to greet me. Half a dozen people waited to place their orders at the counter, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone noticing that I headed straight for the bathroom instead of getting in line.

Keeping my blood-soaked hand hidden in my pocket, I used the other to lock the bathroom door behind me. Even though the knowledge that I’d failed Ashlyn shredded my insides, I maintained the ingrained instincts to keep my crimes as clean as possible. Smearing blood on the doorknob in a bathroom near the crime scene would be a stupid mistake. As long as I didn’t fuck up, the cops would have no reason to even connect this café with the stabbing. They wouldn’t come here to look for evidence if I didn’t leave anything for the staff to report as suspicious. In a few hours, this bathroom would be bleached, and not a single trace of the man’s blood would show up in even thorough forensic tests. This was the ideal place to wash away the evidence of my darkness before returning home to my family.

I’d promised Ashlyn a sweet treat, and I would follow through. I’d walk out into the café and order her favorite waffle, as though this was just another Tuesday. As though I wasn’t a monster at heart and doting on the woman I loved would somehow erase all the darkness in my soul. When she allowed me to care for her, when she smiled at me with pure adoration in those lovely blue eyes, I could pretend that I was the man she saw. That I was good. Worthy.

As I lathered my hands, the pristine white bubbles blossomed into a nauseating shade of pink. I turned the hot water tap near to scalding, trying to scour the taint from my skin.

When my fingers were smarting from the intense heat, the water finally ran clear. All traces of blood had been sluiced away. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I quickly dried my hands so I could check the alert.

I unlocked the screen to find a text from Joseph. Where are you? Forget the waffles and come home. The message was followed by a string of thirsty emojis, including two eggplants and a peach. A short laugh huffed from my chest, pushing back the crushing darkness around my heart. My best friend still acted like a horny teenager when it came to Ashlyn. It was ridiculous and endearing; he was completely unashamed of how much he wanted her, and the purity of his desire for Ashlyn soothed something inside me. Joseph deserved to be happy. He deserved this life that we were building in Boston.

I’d make sure he kept what he so desperately craved.

I stepped out of the bathroom and snapped a picture of the crowded café as explanation for my extended absence. Long line. Get started. I’ll catch up.

Another message vibrated my phone, from Ashlyn this time. A photo of my babygirl filled my screen, her lips pillowed in a dramatic pout. Come ooooonnnnnnn, Daddy!

My chest warmed, and my mouth curved in a smile. More pouting, princess? You must be desperate for a spanking.

Ashlyn’s winking emoji hit my messages a split second before Joseph’s double devil faces and an angel flashed on the screen.

I switched to our group thread, making sure they’d both get the message: Joseph, get her ready for me. Don’t let her come.

Another image appeared almost immediately. Joseph had captured a picture of Ashlyn’s shocked little gasp when she read my text. A third image of our girl filled my screen, her dark brows drawn together in her most dramatic pout yet.

A low chuckle rumbled from my chest, clearing away the worst of my lingering darkness. I stepped up to the front of the line and placed our order, gratefully falling into the distraction of my family’s antics to avoid the violent, ugly things that roiled deep inside me.

Chapter Three

Marco

Maybe I’ll take a turn with your pretty slut once we’ve buried you and Russo.

Once we’ve buried you.

We.

My enemy’s