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“I knew you would eventually come, wife.”
Oh shit.My eyes slam shut and I silently curse.
Slightly nasally, better than thou pronunciation, and nowhere near the sexy timbre of Hark.
The Druid.
Chills skim over my skin seconds before the heat of fear takes over. My muscles lock, including the life-giving ones. No air enters my lungs and I swear my heart is about to give out any second.
The Druid’s face comes into view over the edge and his beady eyes narrow on me. By looks alone no one would ever think the man flashing a five grand suit and Rolex kills for a living. But I’ve seen his victims firsthand to know the exterior is only a mask to hide the vile evilness underneath.
“All I had to do was wait for the kitten to get cold out on her own and she would return to her loving husband.”
“That’s a bunch of horseshit.” My mouth moves and the words come out of their own accord.
“No wife of mine will speak to me in that fashion.”
My face scrunches. What are we? In the 1930s?
Bile rises to the back of my throat but I push it down right along with the raging monster inside who wants to scream and fight.
But I’m no fool. I can’t help anyone if I am spread out on a steel bed at the morgue with a bullet to my head so I tell my brain to shut the hell up.
Kneeling behind the desk, there’s a limited line of sight and I use that to my advantage.
“I see you’ve been doing your usual. Lurking in the darkness like a freak.”
I take comfort in the feel of cool steel slipping into my left hand. I wrap each of my fingers around the grip and flick the safety off with my thumb.
True mobster style he checks his cufflinks like he’s got all the time in the world to deal with his petulant wife.
“Give me the papers and I’ll let you live, wife.”
He must be feeling pretty confident because not only has he come to confront me alone. He’s also not shoving a gun in my face.
Before I can think better of my actions, I push to my feet, aim and start pulling the trigger. “I guess now is as good a time as any to ask for a divorce.” I usually like to use words only more than actions so there is no confusion, but the Glock is doing a great job of punctuating how I feel about the word wife in his mouth. Especially when it describes my relationship with him.
Before taking the fastest way out, I grab the trash can and don’t look back as I bust out of my father’s office to find four startled guards ducking for cover. It would almost be comical to see the sheer panic in their eyes if I didn’t fear for my life.
None of them expected me to fight back so I use that to my advantage.
Which might turn out to be bad for them if they let me get away. The Druid doesn’t like to lose.
It took some work and more luck but I manage to replace the empty clip with the backup, but at the cost of losing the trash can full of valuable information.
“Shit!” I try to lunge for it but the heavy pounding of multiple sets of feet pushes me toward the front door.
I haul ass around the kitchen and down a long hallway that leads to the front of the mansion.
The front door swings open just as I am about to slow down to open it. I can already feel the heat of the Druid’s presence hot on my ass so I can’t afford to waste time.
Instead, I pick up speed, barrel into Axel, and for a second time, I take his keys. He must have been called up from the front gate upon hearing shots fired. Thank God!
“Thank you!” I call back and hey, why the hell not be polite when you’re about to add grand theft larceny to your rap sheet.
I don’t look back when I jump into his idling Jeep and gun it. Thank God it’s automatic!
Where the old Chevy truck would fishtail on something this wet and smooth, this one has a new set of tires and grips the pavement of the driveway like a pro. I take the turn around the fountain in the middle of the circular drive, but I don’t celebrate yet. A swarm of the Druid’s flunkies file out of the front door, all dispersing for the nearest set of wheels.
