The Butterfly Killer

31. Epilogue

31 EPILOGUE

When Marcus woke up, he fully expected Roman to be gone. He was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t wake to find his bed cold. A warm body embraced him from behind and there was a hand dangerously close to his erection.

His cock twitched. It liked the position and couldn’t wait for a repeat of last night. His ass on the other hand, was sore and perhaps could use a break.

While Marcus contemplated whether he should wait a day or two before sitting on Roman’s dick, Roman’s steady breathing changed patterns, signaling he was no longer sleeping.

Under the guise of night, Marcus hadn’t had to face the bad choice he was making. Darkness had been a poor excuse. In the shadows, he’d convinced himself it was nothing more than a sick fantasy come to life. Now, with the morning light awakening the apartment like he’d never seen it before, he couldn’t hide from the harsh reality his life had become.

He’d slept with a killer. His kidnapper .

But he didn’t freak out. There was a calm in him that he hadn’t felt since before his mom died.

All he felt now was sated. His body was heavy after what they’d done, fucked into submission and his mind felt the same. His thoughts were…nonexistent except for the ones that replayed how good it had been to kiss Roman.

Speaking of…

Marcus turned over. He winced as a sharp pain went up his spine from his lower back.

Roman’s hand slid down to cup Marcus’s ass. “Too much?”

His voice was gravely. Marcus smiled then gave Roman a kiss. He’d meant it to be chaste, but it seemed neither of them cared for it to be cut short. They made out as Roman groped Marcus, pulling him close until they started to grind on each other.

Marcus was fully prepared to say “fuck it” and hop on Roman’s lap to ride him hard when his phone started ringing.

Marcus broke the kiss. “Shit.”

Roman raised a brow.

The question was asked and as much as Marcus would love to just abandon his job, he wasn’t entirely prepared to give up his entire life—though he would in a heartbeat if Roman asked him.

He reluctantly pulled away and rolled off the bed. The floor was cold. The room was more of a mess than he initially thought. He was relieved Roman hadn’t cared about the growing mess. He made a list of to-dos as he searched for the pants he’d been wearing last night.

He found them at the end of the bed, twisted in the bunched up comforter. He wrangled them out of the fabric mess. As he answered it, without looking at the caller ID, he plucked off the one sock still on his foot.

“Hello?”

“Officer Palmer. Or should I start calling you Detective?”

Marcus’s brows shot up and he turned to face Roman who was now sitting up in the bed, watching him.

“Palmer?” Mercer asked a little firmer.

“Y-Yes,” Marcus answered, his mouth suddenly dry as if Mercer could see into his apartment. He cleared his throat. “What can I help you with?”

“Funny you should ask that,” Mercer mused.

Roman cocked his head. He slowly got up. Marcus gave a little shake of his head, but that only made Roman curiouser about who was on the phone.

Marcus didn’t quite understand why he was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. Could it be the fact that he was harboring a criminal and he had the FBI on the line? While his police department was no longer investigating Roman or the cartel, the FBI, specifically Mercer and Burns, still were.

“Are you alone, Palmer?”

Marcus’s face burned as he watched Roman walk toward him. There was curiosity, but also a glint in his eye that Marcus was apprehensive about. He took a step back.

Roman pounced.

Marcus bit his tongue so he didn’t let out a yelp as Roman grabbed him and yanked him back against his chest. Their naked bodies pressed against each other. Marcus’s dick was quick to awaken, hardening against his belly.

He only then realized a little too late that he hadn’t answered Mercer. “Yes, I’m alone.”

Roman softly snickered. He kissed along Marcus’s neck.

“Good. As you might know, Agent Burns and I have continued to work on the Cortez case. We have a favor to ask.”

Marcus couldn’t hold back the gasp when Roman bit his shoulder hard.

Mercer went quiet on the other line.

“Uh—what favor?”

“I don’t believe you statement.”

Marcus stilled. Roman sensed the change and stopped kissing.

Mercer darkly laughed. “I’m inviting you to the case. Your expertise would help immensely. And the favor in question…well, I’ll let you know when you get here.”

Marcus could hear the silent threat. “Where is ‘here’?”

“Check for yourself. The plane ticket is in your desk drawer. I had your friend drop it off.”

The anger settled in a little too late. Marcus clenched the phone. “I guess Burns doesn’t know you’re doing this?”

He couldn’t imagine Agent Burns going along with this kind of tactic. He had thought Mercer was an upstanding agent, but he now saw that Mercer wore a changing mask whenever it served his purpose.

“How about we keep this between us? Burns is sensitive and we both know he won’t understand the choices we’ve had to make.”

Marcus’s anger simmered down to a lump in his throat.

“Can you at least tell me when I leave?”

“Tomorrow. The request has already been filed. As of twenty minutes ago, you’re officially on the case. See you then, Palmer.”

Mercer hung up.

The phone was like acid in Marcus’s hand. He dropped it. Thankfully, it landed right back on his pants.

If it wasn’t for Roman holding him, he might have collapsed.

“Roman.”

“Yes?”

“How much of that did you hear?”

Roman pressed his face back against Marcus’s shoulder. “More or less all of it.”

Marcus took a shuddery breath. “What are we going to do?”

He was turned around to face Roman.

“Did you already forget? We’re both under Lucas’s protection. Miguel was an idiot and he still managed to evade being caught for years because of Dante.”

Roman took Marcus’s face into his hands. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

Marcus was breathless, this time for Roman.

“I want to do the same for you too.” Marcus held Roman’s face the same way, cradling him in his hands.

Roman smiled. Marcus didn’t understand how the smile of a killer could be so sweet, so pure, so full of love. He basked in it, honored that it was for him alone and that no one else would ever be able to experience it.

He’d made up his mind as Roman kissed him in the glow of the morning light. He would go wherever it was Mercer had planned. He’d work on the Cortez case, but he’d turned them in circles so they never came close to the truth about Roman.

This promise he made to Roman, he would never break it.

Mercer hung up the phone on his desk and leaned back in his chair. His hand slid down to grip himself over his black slacks. Marcus Palmer hadn’t been alone. By the sound of it, he was very much not alone.

The soft squeeze Mercer had given himself was a tease. However, he had no intention of getting off. His mind was primarily focused on work. And if he were to alleviate himself, he would find a tight hole to fuck instead of settling for his own hand.

A sudden crash had him swiveling in his chair toward the direction of the noise. Slowly, he removed his hand from his crotch.

“S-Sorry!” Burns’s face was bright red as he swooped to the floor to picked up the files he dropped.

Mercer watched him for a long moment. He didn’t hide the fact he was hard—and getting harder now that Burns was here. He took in the man’s embarrassed expression, his clumsy hands that fumbled to grab the last paper. He drank the sight in.

When Burns had picked all the papers up, Mercer decided to stand. “Something wrong, Burns?”

Burns’s reddened face turned away from Mercer. His flush had traveled to his ears. Mercer had to hold himself back from nipping one of them.

“I—uh—” He seemed to come back to his senses as he shook his head. His eyes narrowed, but he still didn’t look at Mercer. “If you need to do that, go to the bathroom, god dammit.”

“Do what?”

Burns’s eyes snapped to Mercer. Finally.

Burns gave him a disgusted look. “Nevermind. Just…”

Burns sighed. “Our informant was found dead. We’re fucking screwed.”

The sudden switch to the case did nothing to squash Mercer’s arousal. If that was what Burns was trying to do, he’d be disappointed to know it hadn’t worked.

Mercer stepped unnecessarily close behind Burns. The agent stiffened as Mercer leaned over his shoulder as if Burns was showing him something of great importance.

“We’re not screwed yet, Burns.”

A plan was turning in Mercer’s head. It served two purposes and gave him two things he wanted: Cortez behind bars and Burns.

The latter being the best part.

The End