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I turn my head to the side and shake my head. “As long as you don’t know, it won’t hurt you.”
She turns her head to her desk, looking at the framed pictures of her sons.
“As long as they keep their Ivy League education, huh?” I stand and grab my cane. She stands with me.
“George,” she tries.
“It’s Mr. Smith, and we are finished here. Had I known who you were, I would’ve never booked this session.”
She looks down and softly speaks. “Please don’t tell anyone who my husband is.”
“Why?”
“He has no ties to this practice. This is all me and my reputation.”
“That reputation is compromised with every affair and accidental pregnancy that pops up. You chose the good wife-status and turned your cheek. Turning your cheek at the deals your husband completed made you just as guilty.” I say.
“Who are you?” She dares to ask me.
I narrow my eyes at her, feeling a challenge. “Why? Scared?”
She pulls a tiny gun from her waistband and I laugh. The old man laughs.
“You won’t shoot me.” I square up to her, leaning on my cane.
“Why?”
“Because of your ten-thousand-dollar carpet.” She looks down, and I swing my cane at her hand, knocking the gun from her hold. I groan with pleasure at hearing her yelp in pain and I bolt out of the office as fast as I can. She won’t run, not in those heels. I laugh at the fact she looked at the carpet to question if she should shoot me.
I take the stairs instead of the elevator and walk down a few floors, exiting into a hallway and locate a bathroom to dip into. I peel the mask off as best I can and discard a few of the sweaters and the pillow that was taped to my stomach. Fuck, that duct tape hurts. Under the pillow, I flip open the hat secured beneath it and lay it on the sink next to me. I open the top of my cane and pull out another bottle of spray-on hair dye. A blonde color, as that will easily mask the gray. I throw all of that away and stuff some paper on top. I push the hat on my head and turn it backward. The cane breaks down like a blind man’s cane and I place it in my waistband. I take one more look and see that I think I’ve got it covered. Just as I reach the door and open it, a few security guards run past and one stops in front of me with a gun raised.
“Whoa!” I hold my hands up.
“You see an elderly man with a cane go by?” He whispers to me.
I shake my head and give my best fearful look. They nod and tell me to shut the door and lock it. I do as they say and wait a few minutes. When I look back out into the hall, it’s clear. I head to the elevator, where it dings open and there she stands on the phone, freaking out. Yelling at her husband.
She points to me and yells, “Take the next one!”
I leave it be, holding my hands up. The doors close and I wait for the next one. When it dings, I step inside and hit the garage floor button, taking me down. The doors slide open and I enter the parking deck, looking all around. There it sits with no one around. Her Mercedes looks so clean and untouched, so it’s only right that I give it some improvements. I crawl underneath the best I can and pull out my knife. I cut the brake lines, slashing at them so it doesn’t look like clean cuts, and making sure they’re small enough to drip but big enough to make sure those brakes won’t work at some point. Crash, burn, break a bone, die… I don’t give a fuck. None of it will lead to me.
Once satisfied with my work, I roll from under the car and casually walk out of the parking garage to the bus stop and wait.
Ten minutes go by and I see her leave in her stupid Mercedes, still on the phone. I can tell she is angry by the way she’s putting the pedal to the metal and speeding off.
See you on the news, Mrs. DuPont, when your car wraps around a tree.
CHAPTER 13
I KNOW YOU
Adam
Tell me—when you found paradise, was it real? Or a mirage? Could you touch it with your fingertips, or would it back away as soon as you reached for it?
Reese is a vision in front of me, that devil in disguise. Yellow dress, brown hair, green eyes, flawless skin. She smiles, a promise of hope and heaven, but hell is all around her. She still smiles in the face of oblivious danger. This is the dream that fills my mind as I sleep. For the moment, she quiets the sounds of unequivocal chaos.
I stare and zone out as I drive to my destination. I run my fingers over my lips, replaying in my mind the memory of her lips on mine, how my fingers danced in her needy pussy. The smell of her arousal topped the sweet coffee-scented breath I needed. My tongue touches my fingers to remind me of her taste. Fuck, she’s good and I only want more of her. Her name is just as satisfying to say.
