Fuck, I’ve missed this.
“You know you’ll be walking out of there looking like a sucked-on raisin, right?” Troy calls the second my head pops out from the water.
Except him. Didn’t miss him.
I squint at my partner, trying to decide if I want to grab his leg and drag him in here so I can watch him panic, or if I should take my usual route and ignore him.
“And while I’m ecstatic that you finally found someone willing to put their mouth on any part of you, it’s not a cute look.”
“The fuck are you even saying?” I bark with annoyance. He acts like I’m supposed to know what the fuck a sucked-on raisin is.
“A wet, shriveled raisin. You’re going to look like a wet, shriveled raisin. Not cute.”
Before I can answer, the water shifts, just enough to draw my attention away from the blabbering idiot. A fin is charging straight toward me, so I steadily sink beneath the water.
The female great white is like a torpedo in the water, swimming at around twenty-five miles per hour.
Adrenaline rushes through my system, my heartbeat pulsing through every atom in my body.
Her mouth opens wide, rows of razor-sharp teeth on display. I kick my legs, angling myself so I’m perpendicular to her. My feet are out past her body and my torso is right in front of her mouth. Just as she reaches me, I grab onto the tip of her nose, using her momentum to vault myself above her, so I’m riding alongside her back.
She thrashes as I grab ahold of her dorsal fin, holding on tight while she glides through the water.
I’ve agitated her enough, so once she swims by the ladder, I release her and grab ahold of the metal steps, climbing out while she takes off in another direction.
When I pop my head out, I find Officer Bancroft and Officer Jones waiting next to Troy, along with Sawyer standing on their other side, shifting uncomfortably. Their boat is idling at the dock, still running.
Good. Means they won’t be out here long.
Sawyer went down to the station to answer more questions, and I’ve been waiting for them to call me to pick her up. She insisted on going alone, and while I didn’t like it, I respected her need to lay her past to rest on her own.
Seems they took the initiative to bring her to me.
“Gotta say, Mr. Vitale, you are an extraordinary man,” Officer Jones calls, peering into the water with the typical look I see from people—couldn’t be me.
“There’s nothing extraordinary about humans,” I respond. Troy rolls his eyes and mouths be nice, which confuses me because I don’t know what that means.
Jones chuckles dryly. “I suppose you’re right.”
I step onto the walkway with a frown, water pouring from my body as I stalk toward the group. I’ve seen enough of them in the past three weeks, and I’m pretty tired of their faces. Sawyer’s eyes briefly round before she quickly looks away, little red dots forming on her cheeks.
A grin tugs at the corners of my lips—something she catches sight of with a quick glance. Then, she’s tripping over herself before her gaze solidifies and glues to me, those strawberry lips parting as I approach.
Fuck, I love my little thief.
“Mr. Vitale?” the sudden intrusive voice snaps my attention away, and my smirk instantly drops.
“What?”
Troy sighs with exasperation at my tone.
“I see you’re still not interested in therapy,” Jones observes, a curl to his lips.
They’ve tried pushing a therapist on me to deal with murdering someone, but I don’t see why, considering I haven’t lost sleep over it.
“What gave it away?”
Jones doesn’t deign to give me an answer, but he huffs out a dry laugh.
“You might be a good role model for Trinity here,” Bancroft cuts in. “She might feel more comfortable going if you do.”
I stop before the group, staring at the two officers with a frown. Sawyer has held off on therapy, for now, not wanting to go to someone that was appointed to her. It’s hard to seek help when you’ve been forced to bury everything that gives you nightmares, never being able to tell another soul about it.
“Why are you here?”
Sawyer bites back a smile, shaking her head at me.
“Our investigators have seen substantial evidence of self-defense in this case. We wanted to tell you the good news ourselves that you’re no longer a person of interest.”
I cross my arms, staring at them for a beat before saying, “I already knew that.”
Troy’s eyes bug. He’s afraid of the police, and disrespecting them is no better than disrespecting the prime minister.
“Did you now?”
I shrug. “It was obvious considering he’s been hoarding dead bodies.”
“He’s very happy to hear that,” Sawyer cuts in, shooting me a look.
They don’t appear convinced, but I don’t really care.
“We gave Trinity some brochures on financial assistance and programs that might help her acclimate to society. I hope you encourage her to find her own independence, Mr. Vitale,” Bancroft explains, ending the last sentence with a stern, authoritative tone.
One eyebrow is raised, staring like when a parent is expecting you to go to college instead of living in their basement until they’re thirty.
The nuns that raised me are far scarier than her.
Said brochures are in Sawyer’s hand, and she’s staring at them like she plans on burning them later.
“Trinity is already independent, Officer. I hope you learn to give her more credit,” I respond stoically.
She smiles, conceding on that.
“You mentioned wanting to change your name, we can set you up with a lawyer who can help you through that process. From there, you’ll be able to sort out an ID as well,” Bancroft goes on, turning to Sawyer. “Have you decided what you want your name to be?”
Sawyer’s eyes widen as several sets of eyes zero in on her. She wants to keep her name—her real name—but she’s been nervous about trying to explain it to the police. Not that she has to explain a damn thing to anyone.
Clearing her throat, she says, “Yeah. I—uh, I know it might sound weird, but I wanted to name myself after Sawyer. My first name, at least. She… she taught me a lot, and I admired her. And she deserved to have a life.”
Bancroft might as well have melted in a puddle.
“That’s very sweet,” she says softly. “It’s a beautiful name, too. That poor girl had a very troubling life. So many reports came out about that evil brother of hers. I imagine she did the world a favor.”
Sawyer’s mouth drops and then snaps shut, confusion written across her face. My own brows jump, surprised that there was more evidence against her brother and that Sawyer never knew about it. I suppose she avoided looking at anything to do with him at all costs.
“Reports?” I parrot.
Bancroft turns to me. “Oh, yeah. Her brother was abusing young girls. Several of them came out after his death.”
Sawyer visibly pales, and she’s struggling to control her facial expressions.
“All right, let’s not gossip,” Jones cuts in, shooting his partner a look.
Bancroft faces Sawyer again and rests a hand on her arm in a comforting gesture.
“Let me know if you need help with anything. I’m sure you’re in good hands with Mr. Vitale, but I’ll be a phone call away if you need me.”
Sawyer smiles tightly, and thanks the officers. I watch them leave, then face Troy and Sawyer again. Troy is staring at the latter, who currently looks a little sick.
Troy is the only person that will ever know the truth. He knows I’d wrap him in chum and throw him in the water with a shark if he ever told a soul, and considering I murdered Sylvester, he has no reason not to believe me.
“You okay?” he asks, his brows lowered with concern.
She nods her head rapidly as if she’s trying to convince herself.
“Yeah,” she croaks. Then she starts shaking her head. “No, actually. Not really.”
I brush past Troy, grab her arm, and pull her into me. She’s trembling like a leaf.
“Did you know he was abusing other girls?” I ask, dropping my chin to catch her eye. She tucks her head lower, avoiding me.
Pinching her chin between my fingers, I force her gaze to mine.
“No,” she whispers, glancing away, her cheeks coloring red.
“Regardless, you did the world a fucking favor,” Troy mutters. “Honestly, you shouldn’t beat yourself up over it when you saved them from further abuse.”
Sawyer nods, but again, it looks like she’s trying to convince herself.
“Yeah, it just makes me feel stupid for not seeing that.”
Troy shrugs. “How could you have?”
She frowns. “Did I even need to kill who I used to be?”
“Australia would’ve turned you over to the U.S. If they did, you would’ve had to go to trial and relive everything, and there’s a high probability that you would’ve been found guilty, despite his abuse,” I say. “There is scarcely justice served for abused victims in America. It’s better that it’s all dead and buried.”
“You’re right about that,” she sighs.
The shark splashes in the water, drawing my attention away.
“I’m going to finish up work here. And then we’ll go get your name changed. I already know what I want it to be.”
Her blue eyes slide to mine, bewildered.
“You know what you want it to be?” she asks sassily.
I grin, and Troy gasps dramatically.
“Yo, did he just smile?”
Ignoring him, I declare, “I’m choosing your last name, bella.”
