Page 48 of The Devil's Spawn

“You’re lying.”

I knew she wasn’t. Her words impacted me in the gut, stinking to fucking high heaven of truth—the sort I didn’t want to face. I tried clinging to a mask ofI don’t believe you, bitch…but tears of betrayal dripped down my cheeks, giving me away. I swiped at them, angry at myself for letting her witness yet another episode of me falling short when it came to trusting Gage.

“He told me everything I need to know about you,” I insisted, my words little more than a script my heart wished were true. “He was only involved with you for a few months.”

“Oh my God—” She cut off and doubled over, laughing and laughing and laughing some more. “You’re so fucking naive. Is that what he told you? A few months? We’ve been wrapped around each other for over a decade.” Her expression sobered, and she straightened until she stood taller than my average height. “But then you came along, and suddenly I couldn’t even get him to fuck me anymore. It’s like he let go of a decade-long grudge to marry Susie-Fucking-Homemaker. How the fuck did you get him to do that?”

Maybe Iwasnaive because I should tell her to leave, and threaten to call the police if she refused. But she’d obviously been drinking, and in my experience, people had loose lips when inebriated. They also tended to be dangerous, but I squashed the warning that buzzed through my head before it had a chance to take flight.

“Enlighten me then. Since I’m so naive as to believe what my husband tells me,” I said, experiencing a small thrill at how her lips flattened upon my use of the wordhusband, “then why don’t you set me straight?”

“You have no idea how happy I am to knock you off your high horse finally.” She pushed past me and headed toward the kitchen. “Pour me a fucking drink, and I’ll talk about Gage’a sordid past all you want.”

This was a bad idea. She’d barged into my home and put her hands on me, and I wasn’t stupid enough to believe for a moment that she was trustworthy.

But I was powerless to turn back now. Unlike the first time she’d duped me—when my instincts had screamed that she was lying—this time they hummed. Something was different about Katherine. She was a woman at the end of her rope, all hope lost with nothing to lose, and a woman like Katherine…she didn’t go down without dragging someone else with her.

She knew things about Gage. Things I wished more than anything he’d tell me, but I knew he never would. Despite his grandstanding about coming to him with my concerns or questions, he remained closed-off to discussions of the past.

For someone who lived to inflict pain, he sure avoided the emotional kind at all cost.

I pulled down a bottle of rum and poured a small amount into a glass before adding cola. She’d taken a seat at the bar, so I leaned against the opposite side, feeling safer with the counter between us. But the position also put me at an advantage. While she cast her attention on the drink between her manicured hands, I carefully slid my cell off the countertop and hit the record button. After what happened the last time we’d spoken alone, I wasn’t taking any chances. If the bitch said or did anything wrong, I’d have it on audio.

“Start talking.”

23. Deuce Impetuous

I will not fucking cry.

“Damn it,” I muttered as a tear escaped. Gritting my teeth, I blinked rapidly and stuffed more clothing into the overflowing suitcase. An absurd amount of dresses rose above the rim, and as I shoved the pile down, I wished like hell I had some pants. Or even a few pairs of sweats. Definitely some underwear. But those finer things in life weren’t allowed—not when it meant blocking my husband’s access to his favorite place between my thighs.

I wrestled with the zipper, adding my body weight to the top of the case, and finally zipped it shut. If I walked out that door, I’d have nothing but what lay in a tossed mess inside. The remainder of my clothing filled the shelves, drawers, and hangers inside the walk-in wardrobe I shared with Gage.

Oh, God…Eve.

How was I supposed to tell her? She’d miss her bedroom, her toys. She’d misshim.

The reality of what I was doing hit me, and in a fit of anger, I dragged the suitcase off the bed and kicked the damned thing until it fell over on its side. Okay, so I wasn’t exactly thinking logically, but didn’t a pregnant woman have the right to a meltdown after finding out her husband was nothing but a lying—

Don’t go there.

But I went there anyway, torturing myself with every word the bitch had spoken. Nearly doubling over at the thought, I pressed a desperate fist to my lips and stifled a sob; sucked in quick breaths before letting them out in hot spurts that dampened my knuckles. Where had the tears come from? I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore.

Pull it together, Kayla.

He was due to arrive in the driveway any minute now. Simone had begged me to leave before he got home, but if I were going to do this, I had to confront him first. Otherwise, he would never let me go.

A hand dropped onto my shoulder, warm with comforting support. Simone didn’t say a word, but she didn’t need to. I knew she wouldn’t leave my side, and that’s why I’d called her. She was my safety net, the one person who wouldn’t hesitate to hand Gage his ass if he tried railroading me. She was here to make sure I got out.

“You don’t owe him anything,” she said.

Nodding, I wiped my eyes. “I know.”

I didn’t know shit. My husband was the fucking devil incarnate, but he loved me. Didn’t he? Or had it all been a lie? That was the problem—I didn’t know anymore. My emotions had me trapped in the eye of a typhoon named Gage Channing.

Simone’s hand slid from my shoulder as I rebuilt my emotional fortress. I stood to the side in bitter numbness while she hauled my suitcase upright. She headed toward the bedroom door, rollers sounding on the hardwood behind her.

“It’s okay to need some space, you know. If he loves you, he’ll understand.”

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