“Okay, Mrs. Stewart.” Someone from the parole board signals her to stand down. “That’s enough.”
“He dies.” Kerr hisses, and I hope to God there are no microphones in here powerful enough to pick up his threat. Well, not a threat. That was a fucking promise.
* * *
Kerr
We drive home in relative silence, the three of us plotting Brolin Mann’s death in our own creative ways. Kyra sits in the back seat with Dem, her own rage simmering below the surface.
Twenty year sentence, out in eight with weekly parole officer check-ins and court ordered sex offender classes. Kyra was granted a permanent protection order—not that she’ll need it. He won’t last that long, and as far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t have to know.
He threatened her by letting her know she was married with a child on the way. How the fuck could he have known that until his parents have a PI following Kyra, and if they do, how did we miss that?
“Angel, talk to us.” Dem says once we’re in the house and Kyra makes her way to the stairs.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She stops and looks at us, pulling her shirt over her head. “The system sucks, justice is blind, and you’re going to kill him soon, anyway. Don’t get caught. I’ll never forgive you if he disrupts our family by getting his blood stains on your shoes.”
She slides down her pant and faces us in her underwear. “I want swim. Who’s coming with me?”
O’Dell and Dem look at me, but none of us say a word. I guess that’s that. Permission given and received.
“You know I’m swimming.” Dem says, unbuttoning his shirt and kicking off his shoes.
“Good, you can make love to me in the pool.” Kyra seems to change her mind about going upstairs, shedding her bra and panties at the base of the stairs and walking straight out the backdoor to our heated pool.
She’s diving into the water before Dem can get his pants off.
I glance at my brothers. “What are we going to do?”
“Tonight? We’re going to make love to our wife. Tomorrow, we’ll have a meeting at work. The less she knows, the better.” Dem says matter of factly.
“Agreed.” O’Dell nods his head. pulling his shirt off.
“I’m waiting.” Kyra calls from the water.
“God damn, she’s fucking amazing.” Dem says.
“She’s not okay.” I point out.
“No, she’s pissed like us, but she trusts us to take care of her like we said we would.” O’Dell flashes a predatorily grin full of deadly promises. “Fucking perfect for men like us.”
Dem, near naked, smacks my arm. “We’ll handle this like a family. She’s giving us the latitude to do so. Now, I’m going to jump into that pool and make love to my wife. What are you going to do?”
I take in a deep cleansing breath and release it, kicking off my shoes and yanking my shirt over my head as I trip over my pants toward the back door. “I’m racing you there.”
* * *
Dem
Kyra giving over Brolin’s life to us is a gift beyond measure. Because of what he’d done, she was forced to take ultimate control over her life, and it’s been a struggle for men like us to temper our primal need tobeat our chests and take care of our woman!
Don’t get me wrong, we still do it, but we’re a lot more low-key when we do. The system failed her, and now she’s handed over the reins to us, the subtle action her ultimate act of submission.
Couple that with her asking us to make love to her in my favorite spot in the house, and yeah, I’m sporting a serious hard on. I’ll be angry and vengeful and rage-fueled tomorrow, but tonight, I’m going to make my Angel come so many times, she doesn’t remember the muthafucker’s name.
I dive in and swim the length of the pool, coming up for air as I pull her naked body against mine.
“Took you long enough.” She arches her brow.