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My head snapped toward the voice. My heart nearly came through my chest. Juan tumbled off me. His body made a thudding sound as he hit the floor. My eyes widened in horror as I scrambled to cover myself.
“Don’t try to cover up now, you nasty bitch!”
“B-B-Bruce?” I blinked. “W-w-what are you doing in here?” I couldn’t steady my voice as I swallowed back tears.
“Who the fuck is this?” Juan asked.
That’s when the barrel of the gun moved from me to Juan. His hands flew up in surrender.
“Tell him who the fuck I am!” Bruce screamed, and pointed the gun back at me. My teeth clicked. When I opened my mouth to speak, nothing! The words had formed in my brain, but I couldn’t find sound.
“What, bitch…can’t talk now? Your nasty ass was moaning and screaming, got this Chicano all up in your pussy. You deserve to die!”
“¡Eh, amigo, ’migo, I didn’t know she was married! We just hooked up, you know, on the Net,” Juan offered.
“Oh, she’s married, but I ain’t her fucking husband. That mutherfucka got no idea what kind of slut he’s married to.”
Juan looked at me, then to Bruce. I could see confusion all over his face, but I was more preoccupied with images of the Reaper’s cold finger on that trigger. I wasn’t ready to die.
“If he ain’t your husband, who is he?” Juan asked.
I shook my head. I clutched the sheets at my chin and tried in vain not to start bawling.
“I’m the man she claimed to love! Said she was thinking about leaving him for me! Now look at her, up in here fucking you like I never meant shit!”
He waved the gun as he spoke, using it to emphasize his traitorous words. I stared into his eyes, I had to try something—if this was how I was to die, I had to go out giving it my all.
“Bruce, we went out once,” I reasoned. “Um, I never said I loved you.” I swallowed, and blinked back more tears.
“We—” Bruce pointed at his chest with the barrel of the gun. “We connected!” he snapped. Suddenly, his arm jerked.
BANG!
BANG!
I screamed and thought I was going to wet myself. Beads of sweat laced my forehead and my heart threatened to explode. When I opened my eyes, the gun was back on me again.
Bruce waved the gun as if he was going to scratch the side of his head, like he was confused. Juan and I cringed.
I eased to the side a bit, trying not to become such a direct target.
Bruce shook his head, and frowned. “I’ve been following you for weeks, trying my best to figure out how to fix what went wrong with us.” He shook his head again. “And you up in here giving up the ass;he ain’t even black!” he snarled toward Juan.
“I don’t even know her, amigo. Like I said, we just hooked up. I didn’t know this was your girl!” he pleaded.
Juan’s dick was good, but at that very moment he was acting like a scared little bitch. I can’t say I blame him, we had met on the Internet only less than twenty-four hours earlier. Now here we were both on the wrong side of a gun with a crazy man threatening to pull the trigger.
“Bruce, what do you want me to do?”
“I don’t want you to do a damn thing. You deserve to die!” he screamed.
Still trembling, I closed my eyes and willed myself to be anywhere but there, anywhere but in this situation, caught between two strangers. When Juan buried his head in his palms I felt so alone. I looked at my platinum and diamond wedding band and silently cursed my husband, Charles, for starting this madness in the first damn place!
I was seething when he unveiled his fabulous plan to put the spark back into our seven-year marriage. That had been a mere four months ago. Even with the barrel of a Magnum .45 pointed at my head now, I remember the day like it was hours ago.
“So are you gonna have an open mind?” Charles had asked excitedly.
I looked at my husband, all six feet five inches of his mocha-colored skin. His jet-black hair, eyebrows, thick lashes, and pencil-thin mustache always made his features stand out. Back in the day, just thinking about his striking features was enough to soak my panties. But time passed, work, responsibilities and life got in the way of our sizzling and passionate love affair. We sank into a comfortable and predictable life of boredom.
