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“You about done?” I ask as I look under the skin and find a few cans of wasp spray.
I open the microwave and place them inside. I turn to the gas stove and turn all the burners on.
“Mercy?” Spark is watching me closely.
“Get what you need. You got three minutes.” I hit the popcorn setting on the microwave and calmly walk out the front door.
“FUCK!” He takes the computer and follows me to the truck.
We climb in, and as we pass the corner, a police cruiser turns towards the house we just left.
“Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear.” I watch the cop pull up in front of the house through the passenger-side mirror.
“Glitch?” Spark still has the woman on the phone, but I’m not paying them any attention.
The boom from the explosion isn’t as satisfying as I was hoping it would be. We’re too far away now to have really felt it, too. I sigh and sit, looking forward, disappointed.
“She blew up the fucking house!” I tune back into the conversation and frown.
“No, that was a gas leak. You’re welcome. I’m sending GPS info to your phone. You’re about three hours away. I can have Hooper pick you up in the helicopter and cut that time.” Spark looks at me, and I shake my head.
No fucking way am I flying with that man again.
He hangs up finally, and he glances at me once he has our destination inputted into the navigation system.
“Wanna tell me what that was all about, lass?” I shrug and pull out the note and the photo from my back pocket.
“He told me to be happy. At that moment, ruining his fancy lifestyle seemed to be the best way to start.” He takes the note first, reads it quickly, and then the photo.
“That fucker knows where we live?” I nod and look out the window.
“Seems he’s always known where I was but couldn’t be bothered to see his daughter or me.” I cross my arms and fume even more as I picture him living his best life while leaving us behind in less-than-ideal situations.
Granted, neither of us has gone hungry or homeless, but we were ripped apart and kept that way for years. How could someone who claimed to love you ever do something so cruel?
No, fuck him. He’s dead to me now. And if I can get my hands on him, I really will be a widow.
“Oh, my God. I’m still married.” I gasp and choke on the words, holding a hand to my chest.
The panic attack I’ve been fighting off finally arrives, and Spark has to pull off the highway to help me.
“Easy lass, breathe through your nose, out your mouth. Nice and slow. Follow mine,” He puts my hand on his chest, and it somehow centers me.
“Dead men don’t get to keep the wives they threw away. I’ll fix this.” I nod once I’ve regained control, and he holds my hand on his thigh while he drives.
I close my eyes and start to drift off until his humming and singing wake me. I watch him quietly and see Issac in a whole new light. Not the man who has been a thorn in my side since we met but a man I can picture the rest of my life with.
“What is this crap music you’re listening to?” I laugh at the face he makes.
“You calling the classics crap?” I smirk as I change the station, trying to look for something more of my style.
“Not one single Spanish station, really? We really are in the middle of nowhere.” I give up and sit back, annoyed.
“Mercy, did you forget who raised me?” He pushes a button on his phone, and then salsa begins to play.
“But can you dance it?” I wonder out loud.
“Guess you’ll have to find out.”
