Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2)

by Evie Mitchell

  I struggled against his chest, watching as men surrounded David. Paxton rolled him, a hand coming to his neck. After a long moment, Pax looked up.

  “He’s dead.”

  Good.

  Not a part of my soul grieved. I felt no guilt, just relief.

  “Thank God,” I whispered as black squiggles clouded my vision. “Thank God.”

  The last thing I remembered was Luc pulling me closer.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Emmie

  Hospitals, I’d learned, each smell alike. Both sterile and rotten. The strong smell of anti-bacterial cleaner rarely covered the stench of illness. I didn’t like how the obscure scent permeated my pores, leaving me feeling cleanly dirty. It was weird.

  “And tomorrow you have the meeting with AFP, if your doctor approves.” Luc sat at my bedside reading from the calendar he’d installed on my new phone. Turned out, with no crazy cult to fear, I was free to embrace all the conveniences technology had to offer. Which, according to Luc, included playlists, shared couple calendars, and sexting.

  Lots and lots of sexting.

  Luc, it seemed, felt the best way to encourage my body to recover was to offer sexual rewards.

  “I’ve been here three days,” I grumbled, pushing the tasteless cube of jelly the hospital described as dessert around the bowl with my spoon. “Isn’t it about time I go home?”

  “Eat your meal,” Luc instructed from his seat, eyes still on our calendar.

  Our calendar.

  As much as I complained, a pleasant little spark shimmied up my spine every time I said our.

  Grumpily, I scooped the jelly, stuffing the red mess into my mouth. It didn’t taste pleasant. I really wanted a cheeseburger and giant fries. Instead I had clear broth and jelly thanks to my bruised jaw. Fun.

  “Knock knock!” called a cheerful voice as Addie, Kel, Jarrett, Jetta, Paxton, Brean, and Jack entered the room.

  “Jesus.” Luc stood, shuffling to make room. “You guys bring the whole tribe?”

  “Sawyer and Courtney are parking the cars. They’ll be here shortly,” Brean reported.

  Addie hip-bumped him as she leaned over my bed, pressing air kisses to either side of my face. “How are you today, sunshine?” she purred, dumping socks, clean shirts, and three books on my lap.

  “Good,” I muttered distracted by the abundance of gifts.

  “We’ve been down to see your sister-in-law,” Kel told me, dropping into Luc’s vacated seat. “She’s doing well.”

  “Is it sister-in-law or sister-wife?” Jarrett asked, perching on the arm rest.

  “Sister-wife,” Addie confirmed, starting to fuss with my blankets. “She’s considering her options.”

  “She was never married to that fucker,” Luc interrupted, his face darkening. I offered him a small smile.

  “You know what I mean.” Addie waved a dismissive hand. “All we’re saying is, Beth is doing well and child services have agreed to place her with Kel.”

  All eyes went to Kel who shrugged. “Seems like the best solution.”

  Jarrett clasped a hand on her shoulder. “It really is,” he agreed. “Though the baby is going to be an added pressure in the next few months.”

  Kel shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “We’ll work it out.”

  “Does Beth want to keep it?” I asked.

  Beth, the young girl who’d helped me, was David’s most recent wife. Like me, she’d been raped. Unlike me, she hadn’t had an opportunity to escape. The baby was David’s.

  “No.” Jarrett shook his head. “Said she’s too young for this and wants to start over somewhere new. Somewhere she’s not known as the”−he raised his hands making air quotes− “pregnant cult girl.”

  “Fair,” Jetta said from her seat on Pax’s lap. “She’s going to have enough baggage without adding a kid to the mix.”

  “And Abel?” I asked, ignoring Luc’s reaction. Luc wasn’t a fan of my brother, no matter that he now understood Abel’s desperation.

  “Grieving,” Addie said, moving to my feet. She fussed, pulling up the blankets to change my socks. “That poor boy.”

  “Poor boy, my arse,” Luc muttered. I reached out a hand giving him a squeeze.

  My brother had stayed because he’d fallen in love with Margery, a young woman in the commune. He’d worked hard and been granted permission to marry her. They’d been like me, desperate to get out. They were working on it when Margery got sick. The church didn’t believe in healthcare beyond basic first aid, at least not for the plebs. Edward preached that God would heal. Abel had pooled their money and gotten her an indulgence. She’d left to get treatment. It had been cervical cancer. She’d passed away over two years ago.

  Abel, unaware of her new identity and with no way to contact an excommunicated member, hadn’t known.

  “At least he tried to warn Em,” Jetta pointed out.

  Luc snorted in response, crossing his arms, a scowl still marring his forehead.

  Abel had been the one to send through the messages. While tasked with bringing me back into the fold, he’d resisted in the only way he knew how– by threatening me. He’d hoped the threats would give me enough time to escape. Luc, having watched me freak the fuck out, didn’t appreciate the gesture.

  “We’re here!” Sawyer announced, entering the room. He carried what I can only describe as a silver phallic-shaped balloon.

  “The fuck is that?” Luc asked, pointing at the atrocity.

  “It’s a Zeppelin!” Sawyer enthused, dancing from one foot to the other. “You know? ’Cause Emmie’s had such a disaster of a year.”

  I took the string of the offensive plane, watching it bob above my head.

  “That is no blimp,” Addie drawled dryly. “It’s a goddamed penis.”

  Everyone sniggered.

  “I guess… thank you?” I asked, tugging on the sting.

  “You’re welcome.” Sawyer reached over, ruffling my hair. “Only the best for our Em.”

  Courtney gave me a small smile. “I heard they’ve arrested the last of them.”

  “Yeah.” I blew out a breath, holding out the string to Luc, who led the balloon over to the other side of the room. “Annabelle wasn’t mucking about.”

  “The confiscated servers were damaging, but the abuses are what will push the charges up,” Paxton offered, his hand absently stroking Jetta’s leg. “The body count is pretty high.”

  “Not to mention the money,” Sawyer said, as he flicked through the multitude of well-wisher cards piled on my dresser. “Our Emmie is now legendary.”

  I blushed, looking down at my hands.

  “I don’t know if I want to be known for the biggest theft in the world,” I muttered.

  “Only behind closed doors.” Luc laughed. “AFP returned all the cash with a recommendation to get in contact with us. We’re going to be swimming in clients for the next few years.”

  “Hear, hear!” Sawyer raised his hand as if he were holding an imaginary drink. “To Emmie!”

  With laughter, the rest of the group tipped fake cups towards me.

  “To Emmie!”

  My blush deepened.

  “What happens to your siblings and the others from the cult?” Courtney asked when we’d settled back down.

  “Some of them are going away, others will be on release, provided they abide by the terms of their bail. Most of them have to go into a deradicalisation program, but with Edward incarcerated their heaven on earth ideology is broken,” Luc said. He’d moved to sit on the bed, his arm around my shoulders as his hand lazily drew circles across my skin.

  It was distracting.

  “Are you worried?” Courtney asked, her face sympathetic.

  Am I worried?

  “Surprisingly, no,” I said slowly. “I think my core fear came from David, and he’s… gone. Which means I’m free to work out what I want to do with my life. If the others target me, I know now I can work through it. I have backup.” I squeezed Luc
’s knee. “I have Sawyer watching my shit.” He took a bow. “And I know I can take care of myself.” I shrugged. “Taking a life was… horrible. But I can’t feel anything but relief. I no longer feel like I have to run away or have anything to fear. I know I’m strong. I protected myself.”

  Luc’s hand squeezed my shoulder.

  Courtney nodded. “You have closure.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  Luc pressed a kiss to my forehead. I tilted my head back, offering him a smile.

  The click of a mobile camera shattered the moment. We both looked over at Sawyer who waved back.

  “Don’t mind me. Keep being adorable. I just want to commemorate this moment in picture form.”

  “Sawyer,” Luc drawled, “never change.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Emmie

  Spring was finally emerging. I’d reclined by the pool, music playing in the background as Luc sat beside me, quietly plucking at guitar strings.

  With Luc’s house destroyed, we’d moved into an apartment. Luc had put his foot down when I’d suggested moving back into mine.

  “One, it’s a shit box. Two, it’s a shit box. Three, it’s tiny as fuck with a coffin-shower shit box.”

  I’d laughed. “Well, what do you propose?”

  “We move into a rental while the house is rebuilt. One with a shower big enough for me to fuck you every morning.”

  We’d gone apartment shopping that afternoon.

  Cecile, while devastated for her son, hadn’t been able to contain her glee at designing us a new home. We’d finalised the plans last week. Construction would begin in December.

  We’d spent the last few weeks clearing debris from the block. His house may have been decimated but his pool and gardens were still beautiful, if not slightly charred. We’d finished today’s cleaning and were hanging out by the pool.

  I dropped the book I was reading with a satisfied sigh, curling onto my side, turning to look at him. He shot me a smile. That toe-curling delicious smile that had lured me in from the start.

  “What?” he asked as I continued to watch him.

  “I’m happy.” I gave a little shrug, offering him a smile. “And I like watching you.”

  He put his guitar aside, moving to lean over me on the sunbed. “You do, hmm?”

  He dropped his head, tickling me with his beard.

  “Yes!” I laughed, shrieking as he rubbed his face across mine and over my chest.

  We wrestled for a moment before his body finally collapsed gently on me, holding me down. His tickling turned to caresses as he captured my mouth with his deliciously deep kisses. It had been weeks since I had returned home, my body healing as my heart overflowed.

  As his hands slipped under the thin cotton of my shirt, I groaned, placing a hand on his chest. “Luc, stop.”

  He paused, moving back a little. “Okay?”

  I slid back to sitting, watching him rock back to sit. “We need to talk.”

  He didn’t look mad, just concerned.

  I reached across, pulling his big hand into mine, running my thumb across the lines of his palm. “I have a question.”

  “Mm?”

  I finally looked up, offering him a small smile. “Marry me?”

  He froze, completely. For a moment my smile wavered.

  “I mean… if it’s… you don’t have–”

  His lips crashed down, halting whatever nonsense was about to come out of my mouth.

  “Yes,” he whispered, pushing me back down on the daybed. “Fuck, yes. Any day. Every day. Today!” He pressed kisses to my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids. He sucked and bit his way down my body, stripping clothes from me as he whispered yes over and over.

  Naked, he claimed me. There in our yard under the warm sun. And when we were done, he laughed at my weak protest that we’d get sunburn on our butts if we did it again. He convinced me with lazy kisses and seductive words that I had no hope of withstanding, all whispered in his deep, gravelly voice.

  Later that night, in our bed in the rented apartment, he slid a ring on my finger. A rose cut grey diamond set in a rose gold band. It looked a little like a crown.

  “I didn’t get you a ring,” I whispered staring at the setting.

  He shrugged, pulling me closer. “I can get a tattoo.”

  I blinked up. “Tattoos are permanent.”

  “So are you.”

  I shoved him in the face, laughing. “That’s so corny.”

  “But true.” He pulled me back, kissing me again. “We’re going to have a beautiful life.”

  “I want to travel,” I admitted. “I want to see and enjoy, well, everything.”

  “Of course.” His fingers tangled in my hair as I drew patterns on his chest with the tips of my fingers. “Where should we go first? I hear you’ve always wanted to live in London.”

  We both chuckled.

  “Italy.”

  “Not France?”

  I pressed my lips together, hiding my smile. “I thought you didn’t like Paris?”

  “God, no. But we can go to my mother’s family in the south. I want to show you the beauty of provincial France. I want to drink champagne from your breasts.”

  A quiver of desire lit in me. “We could do that.”

  “Six months. We’re taking six months as our honeymoon.”

  I tilted my head back. “I’m not sure my boss will let me.”

  He laughed. “Only if you ask nicely.”

  “Oh?” I ran a hand down his front, dipping it into his boxer shorts. “Like this?”

  He groaned as my fingers tightened around his cock.

  “Maybe,” he grunted. “Jesus, I’m hard again.”

  I huffed out a laugh. “I won’t hold it against you.”

  “I will.” His hips jerked in my hand, pushing him closer.

  “Luc?” I asked, still stroking.

  “Mm?” His eyes were closed.

  “I love you.”

  His eyelids lifted, his beautiful blue eyes staring directly at me. He reached down, pulling my hand away, twining our fingers together. “I love you too.”

  “I know.”

  Epilogue

  Luc

  I didn’t want to point it out, but one couldn’t argue with the truth. My wife was hot. I was a thousand percent sure on a regular day, she had to be the sexiest thing I’d ever laid eyes on. But today?

  I’m about to lose my mind.

  She was on the dance floor with her girls, laughing as she shimmied in her wedding dress. A frothy thing, I couldn’t wait to strip it from her later that night. She caught my eye, sending me an air kiss.

  That, ladies and gentlemen, is my absolutely, stunningly gorgeous wife. God, I’m a lucky bastard.

  Pax handed me a bottle, tipping the neck of his towards the dance floor.

  “You did good. Lucky bastard.”

  I chuckled at how closely he echoed my thoughts. “Don’t tell her. She’s convinced I’m a catch.”

  Jetta popped up beside Pax, wrapping an arm around his middle. “What you two talking ’bout?”

  “How lucky we are,” Pax said, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

  “Glad you both know it.” She reached out, squeezing my forearm. “Congrats, Luc. I’m thrilled for you two. Now, excuse me. I’m getting my dance on!”

  She headed to the floor, joining the fray. There were screams from the girls as they welcomed her. She made a beeline for Emmie, whispering something in her ear. Emmie turned to look at me. I winked, causing her to throw back her head, laughing.

  I wanted to join her, taste the laughter on her lips, whisper naughty promises in her ear just to make her blush.

  But first, I had a promise to keep.

  I nodded at the lead guitarist. He gave me a head lift, wrapping up the song.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” called the lead, “the groom!”

  I climbed on the small stage, accepting the acoustic guitar and perching on a bar chair they positi
oned for me. All eyes came to me, but I only cared about the woman with the prettiest green pair I’d ever seen.

  “Keys, in the last year life has thrown more shit at you than even I know how to deal with.”

  The crowd chuckled.

  “I’ve watched you work to recover from a bullet. I’ve watched you battle pain to regain your life. I’ve watched you deal with mental demons and slay every single one. No matter what happens, you battle on, and I’ve never been prouder. Emmie, a year ago I made you a promise. I love you, beautiful, and I’ve never been happier to deliver. Here’s to you, wife.”

  I played the opening chords to One Direction’s Little Things, winking at Emmie as I crooned the opening lines into the microphone. Her heart in her eyes, her joy burst out as she doubled over laughing. The cheers drowned out my first line, but she caught it. Propelled forward by laughing, cat-calling wedding guests, she ended up right in front as I transitioned from one song to another in a mash-up that told the tale of my love for this amazing woman.

  As her laughter turned to happy tears, I sang to her about being beautiful, about how I needed her, how she lit up my life, about the little things I loved about her, how I would carry her through the dark, finishing with the promise that I would never need anything but her. As the final note died out, I swung the guitar behind me, jumped down from the stage and pulled her into my arms.

  She pressed her face against my chest, her shoulders shaking as she cried happy tears.

  “Don’t cry, baby,” I whispered into her ear as the crowd cheered behind us.

  “I never thought my life could be so full,” she admitted, turning her gorgeous face to me. “My heart doesn’t know what to do with this much love.”

  I grinned. “I have a few ideas.”

  She laughed, pulling my head down, letting me taste the joy on her lips.

  She tasted like the best kind of promise.

  ***

  Thank you so much for reading Bleeding Edge. I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing Luc and Emmie’s story.