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“Cheating is stretching it, since you told me you didn’t want a boring, average marriage. You wanted an unconventional relationship,” he goaded. “‘Sex-forward’ is how you put it. Between ourselves, but not closed off to other people, as long as we talked about it.”
She couldn’t disagree. She’d mostly wanted that for herself, then had been shocked when shehadn’twanted to screw anything with two legs and a dick. She huffed out a laugh. That had probably been the first danger sign, that she’d only wanted sex withhim.
“I see you like living in la-la land of warped memories,” she goaded right back, spinning to face him in the dark. “Maddy was the one person off limits, and you knew it. That was my line in the sand, my point of no return, my deal breaker.”
She poked him with each statement, walking him backward until he was pressed against the stone wall. It just happened to be near the manacles, which clanked gently.
She could see herself as if from above, her angry posture leaning into him. Why was she arguing about something in the past? It was over. Their marriage, their relationship. So why bring this up?
Because this is the thing,she realized. This was the thorn she’d thought she’d covered in the hard callouses of hating him and belittling him in her mind. But the thorn was still there, jagged as ever.
“And why do you think I cheated on you with her?” he growled. She stepped away until she was in retreat and he was the one doing the stalking. “Why did I do the only thing I knew would break your rules? Why did I need to end things so thoroughly?” He yelled the last sentence, and the endless echoes of his words hurt her ears.
“I have no idea, other than you’re a dick. A dick who wanted to hurt me so badly, that…that I…” It pissed her off that her voice cracked on the words, but it really had hurt—still hurt—that he’d hated her enough to do that.
As if the crack in her voice was a needle, she watched his anger deflate in the dim glow of their flashlights shining on the floor.
“I was a dick,” he admitted. “I probably still am. Having sex with Maddy was deliberate because you scared the hell out of me.”
“You? Scared of me?” She scoffed, looking for the glint in his eye that would give away his lie. But it wasn’t there, and in that moment, in the blackness of the dungeon, she couldn’t think of a reason why he would lie now. “How did I scare you?”
“When we met, at that symphony, I thought we were the same animal—not afraid of anything, with a clear handle on what we wanted out of life. Your energy and your drive were mirror images of mine. And when we had sex, well…I knew I’d met my match.” He shifted his stance, somehow winding up closer to her. “We were matched in a way I never knew existed, and slowly, everything in my life became centered on you. It shook me to realize someone could control my feelings like that. Call it self-preservation, but I needed to do something that would push you away.”
She searched his face and found nothing but sincerity—sincerity and a haunted look that said he was just hanging on to reason, ready to tip into something else.
His eyes glistened, and in that moment, she realized what she’d been fighting against all these months, what she’d focused every beat of her pulse on denying since finding him with Maddy—not just since realizing she was in love with him an hour ago.
“Monty,” she said, her voice soaked with the regret of the waste of it all. Wasted time, wasted energy, and wasted love. He’d admitted he loved her too, so the least she could do was shatter the glass case she’d locked her heart in and be honest with him.
“Hart—” His lips moved, but his head jerked forward, his eyelids dropping to half-mast. There was a clatter, and the light from his flashlight spun and twitched.
Before she could react, he fell into her, pushing her body against the wall. They both slid to the floor, Monty sprawling across the lower half of her body. Her own flashlight spun away as her hand hit the stone floor.
“Monty?” she called, looking up to see what had fallen on him.
Directly above them stood Karol, panting. He glanced around and picked up her flashlight, shining it upward and illuminating the three of them.
He stood hunched in a wavering stance, the flashlight in one hand and a square green box hanging from the other. He bobbed strangely, his breath still rasping loudly.
“Karol, help me,” she muttered, torn between wanting to roll Monty off her and being afraid to move him at all, in case he’d had an aneurysm or something.And why wouldn’t he, dealing with a bitch like me?she wondered, her hands helpless on Monty’s hard shoulders.
“Monty? Can you hear me?” she whispered.
“Oh, he can’t hear you,” Karol said, his voice a low, malicious growl. He moved to crouch beside her, shaking his head as he held up the green box. “I knocked him pretty good.”
“You…” The metal box in his hand came close enough to read. EXPLOSIVES, it was labeled. And smeared across the first three letters was a dark, wet stain.
Her gaze flew back to Karol’s face, his expression soft, loving almost. Her gut churned, and she fought a wave of nausea as everything sank in.
“Karol, what…” she stuttered, only to have him tut at her.
“Now, now. I don’t go by that name anymore. I’m Jackal,” he said, the words dissolving into a sickening giggle. “This used to hold grenades, but my supplier never told me the box would be handy in a situation like this.”
“Jackal, I think—”
“Thinking is not your friend right now,” he said, his mouth twisting into a mockery of sympathy.
“Monty’s hurt, Jackal. We need to—”
