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Sudden, muffled male voices sent Madison’s head zipping around. Toddwashere. Who with? Damn it, she hadn’t wanted to confront him in front of others, but he hadn’t left her much choice. Besides, she didn’t want to put off freeing herself for even another moment. And some curious part of her was dying to know what went on in this place.
Glass shattering from another corner of the apartment startled her. Her heart picked up its pace when a guttural shout followed. The growl sounded full of rage, especially when a thud—like someone being slammed into a wall—followed.
What the hell was going on?
Madison bit back the impulse to call out and ask if anyone needed help. But the air in the unit felt…off. Over the last two and a half years, she had become well acquainted with the taste of malice. It sat acrid on her tongue. Bitter anger thickened the flavor.
She swallowed down fear she didn’t understand, grabbed her phone in case she needed to call 911, and tiptoed toward the voices, avoiding an overturned vase, probably priceless, now shattered all over the floor. The furious huffs and hisses grew louder and more insistent. She listened, giving into her screaming instinct to start rolling video.
“Don’t fuck with me,” Todd warned in a voice Madison almost didn’t recognize. She’d heard him pissed off, annoyed, and even incensed. This voice was harsh and full of unrelenting rage.
Suddenly, her heart thrashed like a wild thing in her chest. Foreboding burned her skin.
“Are you threatening me?” snarled another man whose voice she knew well, Brent Westbrook. “Think twice. And get that knife away from my fucking throat.”
Madison couldn’t see them, but those words gave her a visual very quickly. She slapped her free hand over her mouth. Why would her husband intimidate his favorite cousin and carousing buddy? More often than not, whenever Todd did something questionable, Brent was by his side. What could they possibly be fighting about?
“No, man. You’re not fucking up a good thing. I have to stop you.”
How? By doing what? He wouldn’t really hurt Brent, right?
Madison’s brain raced a hundred miles an hour. Should she confront Todd and break up this terrifying altercation? Or call the police? The family would be furious. And if this got violent, would the cops reach them in time to stop anything?
“People are going to find out,” Brent pointed out. “It’s a matter of time…”
“Because you’re a fucking bastard!” Todd roared an inhuman sound. “You’re not pinning this on me…”
“It’s the swamp, man. If I have to drown a rat to get ahead, I’ll do it. Your granddaddy will save you, as always. Now let me the fuck go. We both know you’re not going to kill me.”
“That’s what you think. I should never have fucking trusted you. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Then a grunt mingled with more of Todd’s snarls. Some thumping ensued, as if the two men battled by slamming against walls, thudding their way across the hardwoods and onto a tiled area that echoed. The adjoining bathroom? The bang of a door striking the wall resounded, followed by more indistinct struggles. Then a shout full of terror split the air.
Madison crept forward, fingers shaking as she eased open the bedroom door. The cautious part of her brain told her to stop, to run, to get away. But as if she was in a dream, her feet took her forward until she stood in the doorway.
The gaudy room was dominated by a black platform bed flanked on all sides by glossy wood walls layered with mirrors. Since her husband had always liked to look at himself, she knew without asking that he had sex here. But that didn’t faze her the way her glance into the extravagantly masculine attached bathroom and the two men fighting to the death did.
Todd panted, pressing a serrated kitchen knife to Brent’s throat. “Die, you motherfucker.”
Her husband’s voice dripped disdain the way his body dripped sweat. He flexed his arm and slowly pressed the blade in. Brent’s choking as he fought back filled her with horror. Madison was still trying to think of a way to stop this when Todd, who had five inches and forty pounds of muscle on Brent, yanked the blade across his cousin’s throat in one long, vicious swipe, severing his neck nearly to his spine.
Seconds later, Todd backed away. The body fell to the shower pan with a horrible thud of finality. After that, only Todd’s heavy breathing resounded above her pounding heart. The horrible scene filled her phone screen.
Madison bit her trembling lip.Oh, my god. Her husband had just killed his own cousin. His friend. And she—along with her footage—was the only witness. She hadn’t had any illusions about the kind of man Todd was for a long while, but she had never imagined he had the cold blood to murder, especially Brent.
She had to get out of here. Before he saw her. Before he had any idea she’d ever come.
After two years of marriage, she knew how the Pershings functioned. This death, like Todd’s statutory rape of the coed, would be hushed up—no matter what it took. If that meant sacrificing her to keep her mouth shut, the senator and his team would have no compunction. And Todd certainly wouldn’t miss her. He had never wanted a ball and chain—his words—in the first place.
Still, she felt frozen, as if she were trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. Her legs felt leaden, her thoughts jumbled, her system in shock.
Until Todd spit on Brent’s body, then started to climb from the shower, his previously blue button-down and gray shorts splashed with seeping red blood.
As soon as he turned, he would see her standing there. She had to flee.
Pressing her lips together to hold in a scream, Madison crept back through the bedroom door. Her heart slammed against her chest. Fear burned her tongue as she maneuvered out of Todd’s line of vision. She tried to catch her breath.
“Fuck,” Todd muttered as he seemingly rustled around for something. Then a few moments later, he spoke again, his voice horrifyingly calm. “Hey, Grandpa. I need some help…”
