Page 88 of Inconvenient Marriage
I drop the shovel to the floor, moving purposely toward her. “I got you, love.”
Slipping my hands beneath her arms, I lift her gently. She’s shaking so hard I feel it down to my bones. I murmur soft assurances to my wife as I carry her into the bathroom.
I undress her slowly. There’s no lust, no need, just reverence for this woman I adore, and unadulterated fury at the marks on her skin. Her cheek is bruising. Her neck is swollen. There’s a series of scratches on her hip, and her jagged, broken nails a memento of how hard she fought to save her own life.
Eric Ward is lucky he’s dead. I finally understand how satisfied Adrian was to gun Desmond down, and how he’d do it again in a heartbeat. If I could resurrect Ward myself, then send him back to Hell, I would.
But I didn’t. My fierce little event planner did, and I’ll spend the rest of my goddamn life making it up to her that she had to.
If I’d been here?—
I shake my head. No. I can’t think like that. I wasn’t here, but Annaliese is okay, and next time? Iwillbe here.
For now, I focus on getting her clean. Still holding tightly to her, I spare a hand to turn on the shower spray. Once it’s at the perfect temp for her, I help Annaliese climb in.
Her breath stutters. “I’m sorry?—”
“Don’t.” My voice cracks like a whip before I make myself gentle it. “Don’t ever apologize for surviving. You hear me?”
She sniffles, then nods, and all I can do is join her in the shower, leather jacket, boots and all. She needs me, and I’m here now, and if all I can do is rinse the blood off of her, then get rid of the mess in our room… that’s exactly what I’ll do.
No. That’s notallI can do.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, using the washcloth I grabbed to start washing away the blood. “I should’ve saved you.”
She shakes her head weakly. “Babe… you did. It wasn’t even just the knife… if I didn’t have you to think of… he wanted you to come home and find me on the back lawn just like Julie. I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t let you lose someone else.”
My heart fucking breaks to hear that. Another lump lodges in my throat, and I turn my attention to my wife. I cup her cheek, kiss her forehead… her wet hair… the bruises on her throat. And then I push the washcloth into her hand.
“Stay here. Let the water run. Scrub if you can. I’ll come back for you.”
She nods, and though it’s so damn difficult to walk away from her, I absolutely refuse to let her return to the bedroom and see Eric Ward still lying there.
So I grab a towel, swiping it over my face. Shucking my jacket, my shirt, my pants, I get naked in the bedroom, then quickly put on a change of dry clothes. Ruffling through his suit pants, I take out his phone, his wallet, and his keys. The phone will be destroyed. The keys will help me disappear his car. The wallet will end up in a dump somewhere.
Returning to my wet pants, I yank out my own phone. Grateful it’s waterproof, I tap a quick message to Dallas.
Need clean-up. My place. EW. Calling in my blood oath.
Barely a minute later, Dallas sends me a thumb’s up, and I smile.
It’s good being bros with the King. I don’t even have to explain why I need clean-up. I probably didn’t even have to remind Dallas that I have a blood oath. Eric deserved to die, and if I say so, Dallas will agree.
From his days as an enforcer, he has connections when it comes to clean-up. I’ll shuffle Annaliese out of our room once her shower is done, leaving Dallas’s crew to take care of the blood in here. As for Eric…
I drag his heavy ass corpse over to the window he planned to toss my wife out of. Throwing open the glass, I punch the screen out. Once it’s open, I heft him up, then drop him down to the ground below. I toss the shovel after him. Once I have Annaliese settled down, I’ll bury the fucker.
It’s the least I can do.
Annaliese is sittingon the shower floor when I return, arms wrapped around her knees, water still pouring over her. Her brown eyes have gone back to glassy, her lips trembling, though I’m not sure if it’s because the water’s cold now, or because she’s still processing her first murder.
She’s alive, though, and that’s all that matters.
For the second time tonight, I climb into the shower. Dropping low, I go to my knees, then fall back on my ass. I pull her into my lap, my recent change of clothes already soaked.
She buries her face in my chest, fingers twisting in my shirt like she’s anchoring herself to me.
I cup her head, holding her close.
