Page 21 of Killer Knows Best

You wouldn’t believe how many women are out there takingadvantage of the men who thinkthey’rethe ones doing the taking.

Turnabout is fair play, right? And I do love to play.

I’ve never been a prude, and I’ve always been short on cash. It was a match made in a hellish sort of heaven.

I glance at my watch, and I’m a touch late. But the party doesn’t start until I get there.

A laugh bubbles from me as I look at my reflection in the window and adjust a strand of hair that’s fallen loose.

My husband, Paul, would be seething if he knew how well I was pulling this off. Scratch that. He would be seething if he knew I was pulling it off at all. But he forced my hand. He not only cut me off at the knees financially, but I’m well aware of the fact he’s spent years cheating on me.

I’ve turned a blind eye because the alternatives weren’t all that appetizing. I have no desire to pull a nine to five, and so I relegated Paul to a piggy bank all those years ago. But this new version of the man I married, themiser, I’m not at all amused.

And now he gets to wonder where the extra money is coming from. I just need to do this a few more times, and with my hidden savings, it’ll be enough to disappear for good.

Divorce?

Who needs it when you can just ghost the guy entirely?

And that’s exactly what I intend to do. One day you see me, the next day you don’t. Speaking of seeing me, I have a very enthusiastic client twiddling his thumbs.

My feet start in that direction once again then I pause.

Maybe I should hit the coffee shop across the street first? My buzz is starting to wear off and I can really use the caffeine infusion.

Without putting too much thought into it, I traipse across the street and narrowly miss a sedan looking to clip me at the knees.Doesn’t matter, I survived, I always do. Besides, I can smell the coffee from here, and I’m craving it twice as much now.

I continue in that direction as my mind runs through tonight’s plan. My guy is expecting someone confident, charming, and willing to stroke his ego like a poodle. I’m practically a professional at that by now.

It’s amazing how predictable men can be.

Flash a smile, tilt your head, and say the right thing— and surprise,surprise,they’re putty in your hands. And predictably, I’m about to leave him poorer than when he arrived.

I catch my reflection again, this time on the window of a dry cleaners just a few doors down from my intended destination.

The quiet confidence on my face is perfection. This is easy money.

Just as I’m about to head for the coffee shop again, a voice calls out. “Cold out, isn’t it?”

I turn as a figure steps in close. A tall person, face obscured by the shadows. Something about them makes my skin prickle. Maybe it’s the frozen night air or the way they just sidled up a little too close, but I shake it off. It’s probably the whiskey.

They’re dressed decent.

“Are you here for the gala?” I ask, flashing a smile. Just keep it light. “Looks like we’re both ready for a good time.”

The figure doesn’t respond. They just stand there, too still, too quiet.

Something twists in my gut.

They hook their arm through mine and we take a few steps past the dry cleaners, and into an alleyway before I can protest. My heels dig in and I try to bolt, but I can’t free my arm.

“What are you doing?” I shout just as a car honks in the distance. A hand clamps over my mouth and a sharp sting of pain slices deep across my throat.

I glance up at the stars as if they could somehow help me, and in that moment, everything goes black.

I don’t even have time to fight.

16

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