Page 101 of Married to the Devil

“He’s got accomplices. Or at least he’s got allies. I need to know who else there was.”

“I only ever met one guy.”

“Older, right? Heavy-set? Big nose?”

Doug looks up sharply. “Uh, no, that’s not the guy.”

My stomach lurches with excitement. “Describe him then.”

“Younger. Thirties maybe? Really serious and intense. Strong and pretty big. Liked to wear dark clothes.”

My mouth goes dry. “Dark hair? And a little mole here—“ I point near my right ear.

“That’s the guy, yeah.”

I might be sick. Panic builds and I have to fight it back. “How many times did you meet with him?”

“He came here twice. I think it was him following me. I think he’s the one that killed my dog. Woofie was a good boy.”

I push to my feet and stumble once in my eagerness to get away. “You’ve been a big help.”

“Wait! Hold on!” He peers at me over the edge of his desk like a child still trying to hide. “What’s going to happen to me now? Is he going to kill me?”

“You’ll be fine, Denning. Sign the fucking paperwork.” I shove his office door open.

And start running.

30

JUNE

The thing about kids is they never shut down. Not at this age, anyway. Hattie’s a ball of energy and if I don’t try to exercise some of it out of her, she’ll be bouncing around her room all night and the next day will be miserable.

“Keep on marching, pony warrior,” I say as we stomp through the grass down near the wall. “The queen wants her best warriors to be ready for battle.”

“We’re going to fight unicorns,” she says gravely. “Their technology is no match for our magic.”

I laugh and tug her against me. “Where did you even hear that?”

“In a video. Glory to the ponylords!”

The yard is strangely empty. This is the first time since the assault on the house that we’ve been able to get this close to the wall.

At first, I figured it was because Rafe trusts me now.

Our relationship has changed a lot in the last week and for the better.

He knows I don’t want to escape anymore.

Where would I rather be? Than here with my husband and the father of my daughter?

But the more we walk, the stranger it feels.

Nobody’s approaching. There are no guards in the trees, no eyes from the bushes. It’s eerily quiet like there’s a predator lurking around the next corner and everyone in the forest knows but me.

“Mommy? What’s the matter?” Hattie takes my hand and squeezes my fingers.

“Hm? Oh, nothing.”