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“You broke so many laws when we were eighteen that I bet you don’t even know what it feels like to abide by them.”
“I know what it feels like,” I interject. “I might not enjoy the label of being a law-abiding citizen, but I do it.” I’m the assistant district attorney, for fuck’s sake. I’m the poster boy for law-abiding.
Her delicate laugh causes me to swerve. “You sound like it’s torture.”
I cut her a bored look. “It’s not far off.”
It’s not in my nature to follow anyone, let alone greedy officials, but I do it because someone has to advocate for those who are ignored.
“So why become an assistant district attorney?” she asks seriously. “Why not become a politician?”
I arch a brow, amused that she threw that career choice out there. “Because if I were a politician, I could consider myself above the law and do as I please?”
She nods.
“Where would the fun be in that?”
She throws her hands up like having this conversation is enough to make her throw herself into moving traffic. “You wouldn’t have to suffer by following the rules.”
“I also wouldn’t be able to punish those who deserve it,” I argue. “You should know I will sell my soul to serve justice.” At one time, I did.
“You’re suffering for her—for people like her so they can have justice.”
I don’t confirm her assumption. She’s always known how I’ve felt. I’m here because of my mother’s bleeding heart.
“Did you ever find him?” She asks the question so quietly I almost miss it.
“No.” I pull into the shopping mall just as her mouth opens to ask another question.
“Your oversized rat needs a bed,” I clip, holding up one finger to silence any sound she may be inclined to make. “If it sleeps on me again, I will toss it out the front door.”
I expect rage, maybe even the finger, when she finally looks at me. But that’s not what I find. “Is this my wedding gift?” Tears gather in her eyes as one escapes down her cheek. “A cat bed for Biscuit?”
Why did she have to name the damn thing after food?
Finding some of my old self, I flash her the meanest look I can muster. “Allowing Biscuit to breathe the same air as me is your wedding gift. Her sleeping on my chest again will be a housewarming gift for Simeon’s new doghouse.”
I fucking hate animals more than I do people. She’s lucky I let her even put that shedding rodent in my car in the first place.
“Aww. I see what’s going on here.” She opens her car door, and I follow, catching her gaze over the top of the car. “You love my cat.”
“Playing house with Blake has made you delusional.” Slamming the door, I walk off, leaving my new wife doubled over in laughter.
“Wait!” She’s still laughing when she grabs my arm. “Don’t be such a baby. It’s okay if you love my cat. Unlike you, I can share.”
Maybe someone will kidnap her while we’re here and save me the trouble of paying someone to do it for me. Pulling to a stop, I snatch her lithe body to my chest, causing her breath to hitch and halt that awful laughter.
“Provoking my anger,” I warn, holding her gaze sternly, “will only end up pleasing me.” Lowering my face, I press my cheek against hers. “Are you ready to please me, Wife?”
Like I anticipated, she jerks away with an aggravated huff. “One day”—she points at my chest like a heart resides there—“you’ll stop pushing me away.”
That’s where she’s delusional, but I humor her anyway. Call it another wedding gift. “You better hope not, love. As you know, when I enjoy something, I consume it until it becomes ash at my feet.”
Until death do us part.
The vows hit me like a thunderous storm. No matter how much I want revenge, I must honor my vows to this woman. Unlike years ago, my word is my truth. I’m not Van Gogh anymore. Alistair Cain is an honest man, a dutiful husband, and a servant of justice—even if he still struggles with it occasionally.
I glance down at the pissed-off woman in front of me, who is anything but fearful. “Are you done? Or would you like to add a few more cryptic threats you won’t back up?”
