Page 14 of Hostile Bond
I can’t look at them.
A shaky hand settles on my belly and my toes curl in my sandals to steady me. My eyes burn, hot tears gathering like sharp-edged diamonds ready to blind me. It’s not just André who has returned to his rightful place in my heart. His friends found a spot there too. And now everything is going to change.
Payback is darkening the horizon, and some of the people on this island could die––including my warlike spouse who’s marching toward me like an outlaw on the hunt for a bounty.
6
SINÉAD
He stops himself short. Whatever impulses he’s resisting make his powerful muscles flex and his temperament questionable.
I can’t tell what his intentions are when he towers over me, blocking out the roasting sunshine, and drops his mouth to my ear.
“We’re getting the fuck away from this, Wifey,” he whisper-growls. “Let’s go.”
André props the rifle against the platform, cuffs my wrist, and starts to walk, dragging me behind him like a caveman hauling his club. “Wait… Dré…”
His head snaps around, bringing a blazing glare with it. “Now,” he commands, the grip on my bones unrelenting. “Move it.”
I dutifully traipse behind him, even though my spine locks straight and my feet advance, because of the primitive energy he’s using. Neither of us has been married before. It’s uncharted territory for both of us.
The vows didn’t come with spousal guidance or a memo of propriety. But what I do know is this blatant show of authority is embarrassing. It’s not that I don’t understand his grief, I do. I’m just pissed at the way he’d been treating me lately—like a moveable object.
I won’t live the muted life of a puppet. My strings won’t be pulled in every which way, without any say in my future. I’m not that woman.
There wasn’t a discussion about vacating the penthouse forever, nor did he tell me we were taking up residency on a remote island. And now, he’s controlling me in front of his brothers as if I’m an obedient little wife, minus a voice or an opinion.
Maybe I’d wanted more time to pay my respects to Reno too. To be there for India like he’d asked of me. His family gathered here for support. Yet the broken teenager and I are comets streaking the dark world they live in. But that thought never crossed his mind.
Frustration works its way through my veins in the form of liquid fire. Despite that, I bite my tongue and follow him to the grassy banks where violet wildflowers grow. His grip tightens. The instability of his mind tells me I’m his personal escape.
A pebbly path works its way through a maze of coconut trees and finishes at the yawning mouth of a powdery white beach. Gentle waves lap along the shoreline in tranquil shades of blue, from a glassy turquoise shimmer blending to the deepest navy depths of a briny sea. It’s paradise. A picture-perfect slab of sun dappled land––its purity owned by a criminal.
Choosing a fruit laden palm tree with outstretched leaves acting as a natural parasol, André stops, uncurls his fingers, and releases me. When he removes his sunglasses, black eyes lock onto mine. “I need to go for a swim. To cool the fuck down and clear my head.”
I rub the spot on my arm where his firm grasp had heated the skin. My eyes fall to his fingers as they work to pop open the remaining buttons on his shirt.
“You coming with me?” he asks, surprising me with a question instead of a harsh demand.
My answer comes fast and sharp. “Are you actually giving me a choice?” I slide a hand across my midriff.
He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say quietly as I look past him to the wispy clouds hanging over the horizon.
“Like fuck, it doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll wait here. You go ahead without me.”
Watching me for a beat, he snuffs out the short distance separating us and nudges my chin higher with his forefinger. “Care to explain what’s going on in that secretive mind of yours, Wifey?” He pauses to wait for my answer, impatiently adding, “Tell me what the fuck you’re thinking.”
My upset mingles into his heartache, and I make the decision to choose my moment carefully. Now is not the time to offload my annoyance or lay down ground rules. He’s too volatile.
André blows out a heavy sigh of liquored breath and cocks his head, waiting for me to speak. I have no control over the way my body prepares itself for him. It's not normal how my pulse flutters and my core clenches.
“We’ll talk about it later. Go for your swim.”
His grunt is a telltale sign that he doesn’t appreciate my flippant shrug. André looks to the fan-shaped leaves overhead and clears his throat.
