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Can.
Can’t.
Fuck!
I drop my gun and swing at Benson, my fist sinking into his face on a satisfying punch, sending him staggering back into the reception area.
“Danny!” Rose yells. Fair played, he remains on his feet. So I go again, an upper cut this time, snapping his head back. And just as I’m about to deliver a left hook, he surprises me with a shot that catches me on my recovering nose, knocking me back. I still, shocked, my nose throbbing. Then I feel the warm sensation of blood trickling. I sniff, dragging the back of my hand across my upper lip, tasting the coppery flavor. I look at Benson. My bleeding nostrils flare. He did not just do that. On a bellow, I dive at him, tackling him at the waist and taking him down to the carpeted floor. We both grunt, Rose screams, Brad and James curse.
“You sly fucking snake.” I straddle him and punch him repeatedly in the face, but once again he catches me off guard, spinning and reversing the roles, slamming me down on my back and returning the favor.
“You need to calm the fuck down,” he yells, breathless.
Says he who’s currently delivering punches to my face like a machine gun delivers bullets. And calm down? I roar, lifting my upper body and nutting him. His nose explodes, Rose yells some more, and we roll around, punching, kicking, headbutting.
Bang!
I jump, and Benson ricochets back.
“The fuck?” I wheeze, looking up from where I’m on my back, seeing the mirror on the wall shattered. I drop my gaze. Rose is standing over me, a gun in her hand.
“Get up,” she hisses.
I snort my thoughts on that. Stupid me.
She fires again, this time a foot away from my shoulder, and I bring my hands up over my head protectively. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I yell.
“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?”
I growl, getting to my feet fast, and grab her arm, and in a few fast, expert moves, disarm her. I get up in her face, and she gets up in mine, very à la Rose. “I think we need a chat when we get home.”
“Can’t wait.”
I hiss, looking at Brad and James, who are still relaxed in their seats. But I register their expressions. Too far, Danny. Principal Tucker, however, looks like he’s seen the devil. “Daniel will see you in the morning.” I lead my crazy, maddening, reckless wife out of the office, snarling at Benson as we pass. “I was having a great day until you ruined it,” I growl, marching her on. “And that fucking gun was for protection, not to use on the love of your life.”
She laughs dementedly. “And I was having a great life until you kidnapped me,” she spits back. I hold my breath and my tongue. Basically, she’s saying being beaten, raped, and whored out is better than being my wife. And it hurts, even if I know that’s exactly what she wants. To hurt me. And you can bet your bottom dollar she’ll take sex off the menu for fuck knows how long. Which sucks majorly because she only just put it back on the menu, and I was planning on indulging.
Fuck my fucking life.
31
PEARL
* * *
I tap out a message and delete it. Five times. Seems ridiculous to ask him if he’s having a good day. I know Brad. I know Danny. I know James. They might be having a great day, but whoever is on the receiving end of them won’t be.
Missing you.
I cringe at myself, deleting it. If I cringe, I definitely shouldn’t send it. Send nothing. Don’t be needy. Is it needy to want to hear from someone? And he did say he missed me. And probably cringed, I’m sure. I pull my lip ring between my teeth, laying my phone on the table and my hands on either side of it. But then it pings, and I swoop it up, my heart in my mouth. My God, I’m pathetic.
It’s been a day, gorgeous, and we’re not done yet. Can’t promise tonight’s gonna happen. Will call you when I can.
I smile, despite myself. It’s been a day. What’s he been doing? I scrunch up my face. Killing? And who? Would he kill for me?
“You came to bed late again last night,” Anya says, pulling my attention away from my new phone. She’s fiddling with her glass, trying and failing to look casual.
Think. “Oh, I fell asleep in the TV room.” I smile, awkward, and wrap my lips around my straw.
