Such A Good Guy

19. Luna

CHAPTER 19

Luna

I marched down the street toward the police department.

Goddamn Luke.

With one hand, I felt the missing chunks of my hair. He must really have been going fucking feral that night.

My life for the last several years had been ruled by a dark, possessive obsession I’d been totally ignorant of.

Well, that was ending now. I was going to go get the police. Get a whole army of Canadian Mounties.

There was plenty of evidence. He’d confessed to killing my brother. If I told him to, he’d even confess to the cops.

Hell, he was so sloppy who knew what other murders could be pinned on him?

It would be easy to put him in jail.

And then what?

I felt a prickle of uneasiness as the police station appeared in the warm autumnal evening glow of a street light.

And then what?

Attempts to escape, Luke in jail, missing the birth of the twins.

I was walking so fast that I took a moment to pause and pant heavily, my hands unconsciously rubbing my belly.

Well, fuck, I was really starting to show now.

There was a rolling fluttering in my belly and I gasped in surprise.

My babies!

My heart leaped inside me, a flush of joy so intense and all-consuming that I felt my body couldn’t take it.

Would they be dark-haired like me? Blue-eyed like Luke?

Oh, hell.

I had been protecting my sunny himbo ever since the first day I met him and my jackass older brother was trying to cheat him.

He had always been big and sunny and I had been quiet and diligent, and no one was going to take advantage of Luke O’Neill on my watch.

I knew exactly what he was and I loved him anyways, the unhinged murderous psychopath.

And I turned around and walked in the opposite direction until I was standing underneath a window at Ignatius’ Air BnB.

Digging around in my purse, I brought up a nail file and wiggled it under the window, trying to get some leverage to break in.

But apparently people in Prince Edward Island were very trusting because the window was barely shut.

Well, now I had to get my pregnant ass through this window. It was a good thing Luke wasn’t here, because I probably wouldn’t be able to stand up after he got through with me.

When I got inside after awkwardly wiggling through the window, I took out my phone and used it to look around in the darkened rooms.

Ignatius wasn’t the most suspicious fucking criminal either, since he literally had the documents all spread out across the kitchen table.

I leaned over and looked at Luke’s assessment.

Likely sociopath. . .very dangerous. . .has not found a fixation yet. . .most unusual. . .high danger to society except for whoever or whatever he fixates on. . . very charming. . .

I forced myself to read the whole report carefully.

Turn in the man who watched Pride & Prejudice with me every Christmas and had Mr. Darcy’s lines memorized? I thought not.

There was a rustling noise in the doorway and I looked up.

“You know he’s dangerous,” Ignatius said. “Give him up.”

He reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “I’m calling the police.”

I folded the report in a neat, tidy pile.

Nothing and nobody was getting to Luke except through me.

“Do it and I’ll ruin you.”

Ignatius ran his hands through his frizzy hair.

Luna, you have to realize what he is.”

“I know what he is. I’m still not giving him up.”

“Why?”

I thought back to the first time I had met him, the sudden flash of anger at how my jackass brother had been trying to cheat Luke.

“He’s a psychopath, but he’s my fucking psychopath and I’ll never turn on him.”

“Well, I can’t let you take my security,” Ignatius said, striding toward me as I gathered the papers in my arms. “I need that so you don’t get any funny ideas about prosecuting me.”

And there was only the slightest feeling of danger, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, and Luke eased himself through the open window, his eyes locked on Ignatius.

“Luke,” I said, “don’t kill him.”

“All right, baby girl,” he said. “Just tell me when.”

Ignatius turned and ran like a little bitch, but Luke was on him before he had made it halfway across the room, throwing him against the wall and slamming his fist in the weaker man’s face.

“I’m ready to go to bed,” I said after a few minutes, and my psychopath turned, blood speckling the front of his face and white T-shirt.

“I’ll send you an invoice,” I said to Ignatius, tucking the evidence of Luke’s diagnosis under my arm and we walked out into the night.

On our way back, I grabbed the lighter from my back pocket and lit the papers on fire, watching the dark words crumble into ash.

“Does it bother you?” Luke asked. “I’m not like other men. I tried, though.”

“Does it make a difference what I think?” I retorted, although I felt my heart starting to pound faster as his fingers closed around the back of my throat. “Would you let me go?”

“No,” he said as his fingers lightly stroked up and down my neck, twining and twisting in my hair. “I’ll never let you go. I can’t let you go. But I don’t want it to bother you.”

“I’ll manage,” I said as he loomed over me, stepping so close that his flat athletic stomach hit my swelling baby bump. “I’m not afraid of you. Much.”