He kissed her, wanting her to be the last thing he ever tasted. He slid his hands up the back of her shirt, wanting her skin to be the last thing his hands ever felt.

"Stop." She turned her head to break their kiss. They stood as one, two bodies clutching each other, begging the world to not tear them apart.

"Let me be with you ... one last time. Let me make love to you," he whispered in her ear.

"I can't." Her body shook in his arms. "I can barely breathe. This hurts so f.u.c.king bad."

Ryn looked up at him. Her fingers feathered over his lips. He closed his eyes.

"Making love ... knowing it's the last time, would literally Stop. My. Heart."

Step One: Confess the mercy killing first.

Step Two: Wait for Ryn to acclimate to Jackson's ability to take another's life.

Step Three: Make her fall so deep in love with him that not even the a.s.sa.s.sin confession could drive her away.

Step Four: Be prepared to gently hold her in captivity until she snaps out of her inevitable conniption fit because realistically there is no way Step Three would ever fly.

Step Five: Let her go.

"Okay." He swallowed every ounce of f.u.c.king reality and took a step back.

She hugged herself. He fisted his hands, hating that they would never touch her again. Then he opened the door.

"Jackson?"

He turned.

"Tell me to wait for you."

Forty. The stunning woman before him was forty. She survived years of abuse. Her best friend was a dog. Her daughter hated her. If only one person in the world deserved true happiness, it was Ryn. Waiting for a maybe, a complete shot in the dark, would only lead to more misery. He loved her too much.

A long, slow sigh deflated his lungs like life itself tried to escape his body. Lowering his chin to his chest, he refused to look at her. "Don't wait for me." He said his final words in a thick voice and closed the door.

Chapter Thirty-One.

Jackson needed to break something or someone. As if the universe heard his need, Luke's rental car was parked in one of the spots between the townhouses. He pulled into the garage and hopped out just as Luke got out and walked into the garage.

"Jess-"

"Inside." Jackson cut him off, leading him in the house. "Jillian has been gone too f.u.c.king long. I need to exercise. You know how to throw a punch, Jones? Or take one?" He inwardly smirked. That crawling-out-of-his-skin feeling wore on his last nerve. He needed to destroy something. Why not start with the reason for his leaving Ryn?

"I'm not going to fight you."

Jackson shrugged off his shirt and walked into his bedroom. "That's fine. All I really need is a body. I just need to feel the pain of my knuckles cracking against bone. You don't mind, do you? After all, you showed up and ruined my whole f.u.c.king life."

"Call Knox."

Jackson grabbed a pair of shorts then pulled at the b.u.t.ton to his jeans. "I did. Haven't heard back. He's a p.r.i.c.k that does everything on his time."

"She wasn't at the funeral."

Jackson froze then inched his head up. "What the f.u.c.k did you just say?"

"I talked to Lilith. Jessica wasn't at the funeral."

Jackson pulled his phone from his pocket and called Knox again. Again, it went to voicemail. "Where the f.u.c.k is she?"

Next he texted him.

I'm coming for you, a.s.shole.

Jackson grabbed a small bag and shoved a few items into it, including his computer and a thick wad of cash from his dresser drawer.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to get my sister. You're going home and I don't want to see you again. Are we clear?"

"I'm going with you or you're going to kill me. It's one or the other."

Jackson looked up from his bag. He didn't hate Luke. He hated that life. Luke brought it back.

"I'm tired of living without her."

Jackson nodded. With the fresh image of Ryn emotionally shattered in his arms, he knew how Luke felt, which meant it was best to put him out of his misery. "I can break your neck or I'm good with a knife too. Your choice."

Luke's temporary stay of execution came from a knock at the door. Jackson sighed, aggravation building to an all-time high as he came close to tearing the front door off its hinges. A lethal dose of adrenaline poisoned his bloodstream.

"Open up." Preston Iverson called from the opposite side of the storm door.

Jackson gave him no other response than a slow blink. Preston was nothing more than a tiny d.i.c.k in a suit sucking air into his lungs that he wasn't worthy of breathing.

"Maddie visited me. She's a little distressed and a lot confused. Seems my dear Ryn has been sharing some things that she should not be sharing. I have this feeling you put her up to it."

Jackson gave him another slow blink.

Preston pressed a photo to the gla.s.s storm door. Jackson squinted, leaning forward a fraction. It was a photo of a barely recognizable Ryn with a lacerated lip, one eye swollen shut, and her cheek mottled in hues of blue and purple.

He met Preston's eyes. The little p.e.n.i.s in a suit smirked then held open his suit coat to reveal the gun in his inside pocket.

"I'd let me in, jerk-off."

Christmas came early that year for Jackson Knight. He was wrong-the universe's answer to his desperate need was not Luke. It was Preston Iverson.

Jackson opened the storm door and stepped back as Preston came inside, pulling his gun from his inside pocket and pointing it at Jackson.

"You think you can f.u.c.k my wife's body and my daughter's mind and get away with it? You think you can just waltz into town with no f.u.c.king past and take what's mine?"

"What's going on?"

Preston looked at Luke, moving the gun back and forth between them. "I didn't know you had company. Who's this guy? Your lover?" He laughed. "b.u.t.tf.u.c.kers."

Jackson raised a single brow. "What are you going to do with our bodies after you shoot us?"

"I'm going to weight your a.s.ses down and dump you in the river."

Jackson nodded. "Is that a good spot? Is the river deep? Has it frozen over yet?"

Preston pointed the gun back at Jackson. "Why the f.u.c.k do you care?"

It happened in a blink, less than a blink. Jackson grabbed the gun out of Preston's hand like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

Preston's eyes widened as he held his hands up. "Take it easy. I wasn't really going to shoot you."

"You were." Jackson emptied the clip and tossed it left, then discarded the gun to the right. It skidded to a stop at Luke's feet.

Preston eyed both the gun and the clip as if he stood a chance of retrieving both.

"You're not going to shoot me?" Preston asked.

Jackson shook his head. "Sorry. I'm a bit more hands-on."

"What does that-f.u.c.k!"

Jackson started with Preston's nose, his knuckles relishing the feel of crushing bone. "I have a pressing need to attend to..." he landed a fist in his right eye, followed by his left, then a quick upper cut to his jaw that sent him crashing to the floor "...but after seeing that picture of Ryn, I think I can spare an extra sixty seconds to make sure you feel everything you ever did to her." Jackson bent down and grabbed his head, ramming it into his knee, busting out several teeth. Preston gasped and groaned. A click sounded behind Jackson.

"That's enough." Luke pieced the gun back together and held it at Jackson's back. "Let's just call the police before you kill him."

"You won't shoot me, Jones." Jackson broke several of Preston's ribs with his foot.

"Argh! f.u.c.k!"

"Stop!" Luke demanded.

Jackson retrieved the photo of Ryn from Preston's pocket and handed it to Luke. "This is Ryn and this is Ryn's ex-husband." He grabbed Preston's arm and twisted it around his back until it snapped. The tortured animal's cries continued.

"He did that to her. If you need to pretend it's Jessica, then go ahead. Just keep looking at it and tell me when to stop and I'll stop."

Bone after bone broke. It really wasn't Jackson's MO to torture someone unless he needed information from them. Preston was an exception. Luke never said another word. Even after Jackson gave the final blow that ended Preston Iverson's life, Luke didn't move. He stared in silence at the photo.

Jackson turned, slightly winded, but also a bit more relaxed. He rested a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Good news, buddy. Thanks to our unexpected visitor, I do believe you're going to live."

He brushed past Luke, pulled on a shirt, and grabbed his bag. "Let it go, Jones. I can hear your thoughts. Look at the picture again. I didn't kill a man, I saved a woman."

On his way to the kitchen, Jackson s.n.a.t.c.hed the picture from Luke's hands. They didn't move-he didn't move.

"Tell me, what would you do to save the woman you love?" He grabbed a Red Bull from the refrigerator and popped the top.

Peeling his gaze from the limp body, Luke focused on Jackson. "Anything."

Jackson nodded then took a swig, content with Luke's commitment to his sister. "I don't know where she is, but I know she would not have missed AJ's funeral. Knox isn't answering me."

"You think he has her?"

"No."

"Do you think he knows where she is?"

"Maybe."

"Then why do you think he's not answering you?"

"I don't think he has his phone. But someone does."

"So where are we going?"

Jackson grinned at Luke's we comment. "Are you willing to die for her?"

"Yes."

Jackson finished his Red Bull then tossed the can in the sink. "Last question and don't f.u.c.king hesitate. Just answer it."

Luke kept his unwavering gaze on Jackson.

"Are you willing to kill for her?"

"Yes." The darkness in Luke's eyes mirrored Jackson's. It was the need for revenge obliterating all conscience-all reason.

"Then let's go get her."

Luke seemed to snap out of the moment as Jackson grabbed the neck of Preston's shirt and coat then dragged him toward the back door, leaving a blood-smeared trail on the wood floor.

"What are you going to do with the body?"

"I got a tip that the bottom of the river is a good spot." He wasn't used to being the hitman and the cleanup crew, but Knox was MIA. "Don't step in the blood. Just ... don't move at all."

"We're going to San Francisco?" Luke asked after Jackson requested two tickets at the airport ticket counter.