The Butterfly Killer

Chapter 28

28

“I was hoping we’d get a little more time together,” Miguel drawled as he moved to the small kitchen. “Exchange stories, perhaps give each other tips.”

Marcus tested the ropes though he knew it would be far-fetched to believe he would be strong enough to get out of them. Still, he ran his fingertips over the strands that made up the thick ropes, trying to see if he could wiggle his way out of the tightened knot.

Miguel opened the bottom cabinet on the small island that split the living room from the kitchen. “I’m flattered you wanted my attention.”

Roman hadn’t moved since they’d been brought here. He wasn’t even looking at Miguel. He was staring straight ahead. Marcus didn’t know what to make of it, but he wanted to assume Roman had a plan to get them out of here. He’d had a plan since the beginning. He had to have one now.

At least, Marcus hoped so.

Miguel pulled a bag out of the cabinet and threw it on top of the island. He unzipped it as a wide sinister grin stretched over his face. His eyes glowed as he looked at the contents.

“But I’m sorry to say, there can only be one Butterfly Killer.”

Miguel pulled out a knife so cheap and normal that Marcus had to blink a couple times. However, as Miguel walked around the island with the knife lowered at his side, Marcus realized that this knife wasn’t just any regular knife. This was significant. It carried memories that both Miguel and Roman would remember.

This was a trophy.

Even when Miguel walked right in front of Roman and stopped there, Roman didn’t look at him.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed. “Look at me.”

He held the knife to Roman’s throat. “Do you think I don’t know who you are? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize one of my own spawn?”

Roman’s eyes finally flickered to Miguel’s face. There was no fear. It was the opposite of what Miguel wanted. He wouldn’t be satisfied until Roman was begging for his life. It wouldn’t be fun if he wasn’t.

Roman gave Miguel a dull stare. “When did you know?”

Miguel tapped the blade impatiently against Roman’s throat. “I knew always. My son. The only one who could come even close to besting me.”

“Liar.”

Miguel frowned. “What?”

“Liar,” Roman repeated. “You didn’t know who I was until your brother told. Just before he told you that two FBI agents are hot on your trail.”

“You little shit?—”

“Are you going to kill me or are you going to ask nicely who’s the other mole in your ranks?”

Marcus almost forgot he was supposed to be finding a way out of his restraints while he got distracted by the drama unfolding before him. He’d managed to wedge two of his fingers into the knot. It was tight enough that it cut off his circulation. He had only about a minute before they went numb and he’d be in worse shape than when he’d started.

Miguel had a staring contest with Roman. When Roman didn’t break, Miguel pulled back.

“I’ll ask nicely.”

Miguel stabbed Roman in the thigh.

Roman yelled out, writhing in the ropes that forced him to take the attack. Miguel grinned with teeth as he twisted the knife, driving it further into Roman’s leg.

“Juan spilled everything. I only need to know one thing…”

He ripped the knife out. Roman gasped. He didn’t get a chance to register the pain before Miguel moved to his other thigh and stabbed the knife in there too.

“Who saved you when I killed that bitch? Because I know damn well you didn’t make it out of that fire all by yourself.”

Roman was a sweaty mess. His head lolled to the side and then down to meet his father’s eyes.

A laugh managed to escape his trembling lips. “A ghost.”

Miguel’s grip slipped off the handle of the knife. His eyes widened with a fright that Marcus would have liked to revel in but just at that moment, he’d slipped free of the ropes binding his wrists. He launched himself at Miguel, seizing the opportunity, and slammed into the man. They rolled onto the ground. Marcus couldn’t do much with his legs still tied to the chair, but he managed to grab Miguel’s gun before the man could shake off his confused stupor.

Marcus shoved the gun into Miguel’s face. The barrel touched the man’s forehead. It was shaking. Marcus’s hand was trembling.

All his training went out the window. With his finger on the trigger, the safety clicked off, he swore he could feel his heartbeat coming from the gun though he knew that couldn’t be true. It was just his pulse he felt. Yet, it felt like the gun was a beating heart he held in the palm of his hand.

Pressed against Miguel’s forehead, the gun continued to shake even when Marcus took careful deep breaths.

Miguel’s nose was bleeding again. The blood dribbled from his nostril and over the cupid’s bow of his lips. His clenched teeth were stained with the deep red. His eyes were jittering, bouncing from Marcus to Roman and then back again.

“Shoot me, boy.” Miguel leaned forward as much as he could with the barrel keeping him a certain distance from Marcus. “I dare you.”

The whispered dare flared anger deep in Marcus’s gut.

This man…he’d taken everything away from him. He’d torn his family apart and he didn’t fucking care. There was no remorse and even when Marcus could take his life, he still taunted him.

His finger trembled over the trigger. It would be so easy to put a bullet in Miguel’s head. He wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again, but he wouldn’t get what he deserved. Nothing could make him see the error of his ways because he couldn’t comprehend any kind of empathy.

Marcus felt hopeless once more. He thought when he would finally get the Butterfly Killer he would feel stronger. That he wouldn’t be so afraid of dying and facing his mother in the afterlife—he thought he might stop the nightmares that plagued him when he did finally fall asleep at night.

He saw now that he’d been a fool to think that. No matter what he did—no matter if he killed Miguel—he’d still be haunted by the man.

Marcus moved the gun to Miguel’s shoulder and pulled the trigger.

“Fucking cunt!”

Miguel writhed as he clenched his hand over his bleeding shoulder.

Marcus fell back on his ass and unknotted the rope keeping him tied to the chair. His ankle ached from twisting it in the fall, but he ignored the pain as he ran over to Roman, untying him too before Miguel got the energy to fight them.

“Let me take that,” Roman said, putting his hand on Marcus’s that held the gun.

Marcus clutched the gun harder though he didn’t really want it. He tilted his head down to meet Roman’s eyes. There was something sweet and delicate in them that almost broke him down.

“Can I trust you?” Marcus whispered.

“Yes,” Roman whispered back.

Marcus would have let Roman take the gun even if he’d been lying. Roman pried it from Marcus’s trembling fingers and when he held it, Marcus did feel safer though he felt like an idiot for doing so. He’d basically laid in the alligator’s mouth.

Miguel crawled across the floor. He got to his knees.

Roman shot him in the leg.

“Ah!” Miguel writhed in pain once more on the floor.

Roman grabbed the handle of the knife still in his left thigh. He slowly pulled it out to Marcus’s horror. He didn’t see an alternative so he didn’t argue.

Marcus helped Roman stand though he wanted to plead for him to stay off his feet. He knew, however, that they didn’t have the luxury of resting here.

Instead of leaving, Roman went toward Miguel.

Marcus pulled Roman gently back. “What are you going to do to him?”

With a gun in one hand and a knife in the other, Roman looked nothing close to human. Marcus saw a killer, a man who’d been raised for this final moment—revenge. Marcus shared so much with this man that it was sort of funny. Ironic he supposed that they were so similar yet so different. They shared a common goal, but Marcus had never thought it would be achieved like this.

“Leave if you want to.” Roman said it without looking at him. Whether it was the shame that made him not do it or if he didn’t care what Marcus’s opinion was, Marcus didn’t think less of him because of it.

Marcus couldn’t stop himself when he wrapped his arms around Roman and hugged him as tightly as he could. Roman stilled, but he didn’t fight it. He relaxed after a moment.

“This won’t change anything.”

Roman sighed. “Oh but it has, Marcus.”

Marcus let his arms fall. He wasn’t going to receive a hug back. He let Roman leave his arms because he knew there wasn’t anything he could do besides killing Roman to stop him.

Roman would have his revenge for both of them.

Marcus stepped back. He found the chair Roman had been tied to just seconds ago. He sat as he watched Roman creep closer and closer to Miguel.

The screams didn’t start until Roman straddled Miguel and sliced the man’s shirt off with the knife he’d used to stab Roman in both legs. Roman wasn’t careful. He cut Miguel’s skin too. When the shirt was off, he shot Miguel in the other shoulder.

His arms were rendered useless. They seized on the ground beside his laying form. He kicked with his good leg, but Marcus could see how pain rippled up his bad one each time he did. And each time he tried to fight, more and more of his energy was taken.

Roman cut and stabbed with precision. He’d planned this. If it wasn’t planned, he knew exactly where to stab and where to cut without second guessing himself.

The butterflies in the cabin, pinned in shadow boxes with the other array of insects came to mind. Roman used his skill to pin Miguel like all those other insects he’d practiced on.

Marcus didn’t have to force himself to watch. He needed this. It was the closure and it was also the proof that Miguel wasn’t going to be leaving this pool house.

The Butterfly Killer stopped existing here and now.

The body wasn’t recognizable anymore. Roman had carved it into the perfect piece to become his epilogue. The chest cavity was open wide so the corpse’s heart was on full display—Marcus had thought he saw it beat one more time before it stopped entirely.

But that must have been the trick of his eyes.

Speaking of eyes, Roman had removed those. The body was left without them and its tongue had been taken as well. Roman had stuffed them down into the throat.

Covered in blood, Roman sagged against the kitchen island. He panted, face covered in sweat. He’d pushed himself.

Marcus got up. He didn’t let Roman wiggle out of his grip. He wasn’t strong enough to. He gave in and let Marcus lead him to the bedroom. Marcus laid him down on the made bed. The creme sheets were going to be stained with blood, but Marcus would worry about that later when Roman wasn’t on the verge of death.

The panic started to seep in. When Roman had taken care of Miguel, he’d been numb, watching as if he wasn’t the cop who’d been after justice. This was wrong—all the choices he’d made were wrong—but he didn’t know how Miguel getting what he deserved could be anything but right.

He left Roman on the bed and went to the joining bathroom. The bright lights blinded him for a second when he flipped the switch on. He grabbed the hand towel hanging on the metal ring next to the sink. He turned the water on and shoved the bright white towel underneath.

Blood ran down the drain, swirling for a moment until the water ran clear again. Marcus stared at the color, confused where it had come from, but then realizing that his arms were covered in blood. Roman’s blood. Because Roman was bleeding. A lot.

He looked up, his eyes meeting his own in the mirror. He knew he was panicking, but he didn’t know he was breaking down on the inside until he saw his eyes that were so wide they looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

The cold water turned scorching hot. Marcus jumped back with a yelp.

He fumbled to turn the knob so it was actually on the cold water. It soothed his slight burn and soaked the hand towel. He wrung it out and turned the faucet off. Stepping out of the bathroom, he listened closely for any of Miguel’s men coming back.

Roman held the gun and though it made sense for Marcus to take it, he didn’t want to.

Marcus was careful as he leaned over the bed.

“Let me see it.”

Roman thankfully didn’t fight him on it. He lifted his shirt where the knife had gotten him one last time before Marcus had gotten free. The wounds in his thighs were one thing. There weren’t any vital organs there and a couple tourniquets might be enough to save his legs.

This however…Marcus wasn’t a doctor. He’d been trained well enough to know what to do until the medics arrived to a scene, but other than that…

Shut up. Just focus on helping him and not thinking about what you can’t do.

Marcus listened to the voice in his head for once. He applied pressure to the cut in Roman’s abdomen.

“Put your hand on it,” Marcus said, but Roman was already on it.

He pressed harder than Marcus had, seething as the pain no doubt hit him like a thousand knives all over again. “I know what to do.”

Marcus nodded, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

He grabbed the end of the bed sheets and tore through them. He teared two long strips and went about tying them around Roman’s legs, above each stab wound.

Roman cried out as Marcus tightened them.

“You have to go.”

Marcus’s ears rang. “What?”

Roman panted. He looked like he was getting worse. “You have to go. They’re going to come back eventually.”

He pushed the gun into Marcus’s chest. He didn’t take it.

“No,” he pleaded.

Roman shook his head with a sad smile. “We got what we wanted. You don’t have to pretend with me anymore.”

Marcus felt like he was being torn in two. He reached for Roman’s hand and he could have cried with joy when Roman didn’t pull his away.

“I told you already, I’m not pretending. I’ll stay with you. We’re going to be saved.”

“And after that?” Roman laughed without humor. “Baby, I killed those women. I did it to piss him off. There’s no mental gymnastics you can do to justify that.”

Marcus couldn’t argue. He knew he was looking at a man who’d done horrible things, that would spend the rest of his life behind bars if he survived today.

But Marcus couldn’t argue with his own fucked up heart. As cliche as it sounded, he couldn’t help who he’d fallen for.

Before either of them could argue more about their side or make a choice, the door to the pool house opened.

Marcus snatched the gun from Roman’s hand. He ran to the bedroom door?—

“Careful, officer. You’ll put someone’s eye out with that thing.”

Marcus halted when a gun aimed at his head and the gun in his shaking hands wasn’t even close to being at Miguel’s nephew’s chest. Roman’s cousin.

Marcus lowered the gun. The nephew held his hand out.

Marcus thought about his options. He could try to go for the nephew’s gun but it was a long shot. He’d be dead the second he moved.

So, really, he didn’t have any options.

He handed the gun over. There was relief in having it out of his hands though he was now unarmed.

“Where is he?”

Marcus pointedly looked at Miguel. Or what was left of him. He didn’t look much like himself anymore.

The nephew tutted. “Not him. Roman. Don’t play dumb. I know you’re smarter than you look.”

Marcus let the insult roll off his back. “Bedroom.”

He knew the nephew would get it out of him eventually and if Marcus pissed him off, it would only end up worse for both of them.

The nephew gave a handsome smile that drastically changed his hostile resting face. His mother must have been a supermodel because he definitely didn’t get his looks from his father.

“Don’t look so worried. I’m here to help,” the nephew said as he grabbed Marcus’s arm and steered him back from where he’d come from.

Marcus clenched and unclenched his fists, eyes darting around the room as he calculated what he could do. He was also calculating what the nephew could possibly have in mind when they did ultimately make it to the bedroom. He had leverage over his father and now his late uncle, but what did he have to do with Roman? How did all this tie together?

And what did he have planned?

On their way down the hall, Marcus took one look at the picture hanging on the wall. For a split second he was going to do it. He was going to grab the damn thing and attack.

The nephew read it all in his body language. He poked the back of Marcus’s head with the gun. “Come on. I have other things to do. I’ve got a hot date and I really don’t want to clean your blood off my nice shoes.”

Marcus would have rolled his eyes if he was staring at Roman laying in the bed.

He looked worse than when Marcus had left him. His eyes were lidded, his chest heaved, and he’d slumped down into the mattress like it was going to eat him alive.

Marcus’s chest ached when he saw Roman lying there. All the fear he’d first felt when he first met him was gone. All he felt now was sympathy and a deep need to help Roman.

“Go to him,” the nephew said. He sounded amused.

Marcus didn’t need to be told twice. He darted to the side of the bed. He grabbed Roman’s hand once more. He looked the man in the eyes. He didn’t need to ask how he was doing. He could see it very clearly.

He wasn’t going to make it if he didn’t get some help.

Marcus looked over at the nephew. “How are you here to help?”

The nephew hadn’t moved from where he stood just inside the doorway. He watched Roman and Marcus with a curious but also not interested way that didn’t give anything as to what he was thinking.

The nephew finally walked into the room, breaking the safe bubble that Marcus was relying on to keep him together. He knew now that what happened next, the world they’d shared together for weeks was coming to an end.

“Lucas Cortez,” he said while holding out his hand to Roman. Roman looked him tirelessly up and down.

“I know who you are.” He coughed. Thankfully, Marcus didn’t see any red.

Lucas pulled his hand away when it became clear that Roman wasn’t going to shake it, even if he was in the position to do so.

“Then you know I own almost everything the Cortez empire used to.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Are you offering me a deal or are you just trying to threaten me?”

Lucas’s smile grew wider. “I knew we’d understand each other, cousin. I am offering a deal. You come work for me and I’ll make sure neither the FBI nor my father harm you.”

Roman huffed out a laugh that bordered on a wheeze. He moved, grimacing as the shifting pulled on his stomach wound. Marcus tried to help him, but Roman waved him off.

“I don’t give a shit about the FBI or your father. I’m good as dead. There’s nothing they can do to me worse than this.”

Lucas’s eyes flickered to Marcus. “Are you sure about that?”

Roman stiffened then hissed. Marcus felt useless standing beside him without being able to do anything. It was out of his hands now. He didn’t even feel like he could provide comfort to Roman. He wasn’t sure Roman would even want it.

“Fine,” Roman bit out. “What are your terms?”

Lucas placed the gun Marcus had taken from Miguel onto the dresser by the bedroom door. “We can talk about that later. Let’s take care of you first.”

Marcus launched himself in front of Roman. He didn’t care if he looked like an idiot or if he looked completely freaked out. He wasn’t going to let Lucas do anything to Roman without putting up a fight.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Please, officer. I need my cousin alive to work for me. I’m going to get him help. Unless you think he’ll be in better hands with the FBI.”

Marcus looked back at Roman, but he didn’t have a clue either.

Then, Marcus heard the sirens. There was no way that Lucas had heard them before Marcus. He was trained to hear them. He could pick up on them miles away and he could be completely focused on a task.

Lucas must have known they were on their way before they were even on this part of town. He definitely had someone working inside the network and if Marcus had to bet, it was someone in the FBI.

“What do you say?” Lucas grinned as he looked at Roman with a sparkle in his eyes. He knew he had Roman pinned exactly where he wanted him. But Marcus didn’t know if Roman really cared that much about him. They’d spent only a couple weeks with each other. Had they grown that close? Or was it all in Marcus’s head?

Marcus looked Roman in the eyes. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine.”

There was no guarantee. Marcus might end up dead tomorrow. But he would have been dead weeks ago if it wasn’t for Roman saving him from Michael. But he wouldn’t have been in that position if it wasn’t for Roman in the first place.

Still, when Marcus remembered how he’d danced with Roman, how he’d watched Roman pin insects like it was a work of art, and how they’d held each other as Marcus got off to the fact Roman had killed for him, he knew he wanted Roman to take this deal. He wanted him to live.

Roman reached out for him. Marcus met him half way. The sirens were getting louder. They were as loud as his pounding heartbeat.

“Come here, butterfly,” Roman whispered it like a prayer.

Marcus couldn’t resist. He came to Roman, two magnets finding each other after being apart for centuries. When they met, lips crushing onto one another, Marcus felt the whole universe being creating all over again. He felt as particles, gasses, and dark matter expanded and condensed to this single moment.

Inevitably, it had to end.

Marcus forced himself to pull away. He had to make the choice, had to be the one to put an end to this first because he didn’t know if he’d recover if Roman made it known he didn’t see Marcus as the center point of his life like Marcus viewed Roman.

Marcus began to turn away, but Roman grabbed his arm. Still, his eyes were lowered to the floor. The tears were in the back of his eyes. He wouldn’t let them fall. Roman couldn’t see him breaking down. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Look at me.”

The tone of Roman’s voice caught his attention. With wide-eyes, he met Roman’s gaze. There was no doubt Roman didn’t want him like he wanted him. There was a connection between them that scared Marcus. He’d never felt like this before and he didn’t believe he would feel like this ever again.

The anguish was real in Roman’s eyes. Even as good as an actor as he was, Marcus had become familiar with carding through the lies and finding the embedded truth that not even Roman could hide.

“Promise me you’ll be safe.”

Marcus started to shake his head. Roman shook him. “Promise me!”

Marcus squeezed his eyes and nodded. “Yes.”

The sirens were even closer. They had run out of time.

“Okay.” Lucas severed the frayed ties between them. He grabbed Marcus and steered him to the door. “Go greet your friends.”

Marcus dug his heels into the carpet and turned to say one last thing to Lucas. He said it low enough that he hoped Roman wouldn’t be able to hear him.

“You fucking make sure he’s safe, got it?” Marcus didn’t care if he’d turned his back to the morals he’d upheld for all his life. He didn’t care if he was throwing away his life as a cop or his future as a detective for just one man.

Without justice as his purpose, he didn’t know what to devout his life to, but Roman seemed like a good place to start.

Lucas had that amused look on his face though tinged with a hint of annoyance this time. Marcus knew these moments were crucial for both Roman and Lucas to get out before the FBI showed up, but Marcus needed to know Roman was going to be safe with Lucas. For his conscious’s sake.

“You have my word.” Lucas dropped all the humor. His face was serious and his words even more serious.

Marcus believed him.

He ran out of the pool house and toward the main residence. He heard the squad cars reel into the driveway, the sirens deafening loud now. He wasn’t even through the main house when the doors were kicked in.

“FBI!”

Marcus froze with his hands up. The men with helmets and guns were a blur and so were the agents that came in behind them, weapons drawn.

The house was empty. Cortez and his men were gone. Long gone.

Minutes later when Marcus was escorted out of the house, he heard that there was no one else besides him.

Roman was gone.