Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

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