Summer Fire
Page 51
I follow him outside, glancing sideways to catch Phillip’s eyes narrowing and honing in on me. The moment our eyes lock, my body explodes in pure euphoria, and a devilish smile appears on my face, my heart pumping adrenaline through my veins. I’ve succeeded in my goal; the ultimate payback.
I follow my one-time lover to the bar where he orders another drink.
“You still following me?” he asks.
“You say that as if you dislike it.”
“That’s because I still have a job to do, and you’re distracting me quite a bit with your voluptuous body.”
I smile at him, leaning in to place my hand on his shoulder, making sure Phillip is watching. “I’ll distract you anytime.”
He turns his head ever so slightly. “Taking women is like sipping wine. Only take a sip. Otherwise, they might overpower you.”
I chuckle. “Touché.” I lean forward to grab a drink off the table. “I’d rather be the wine than the vinegar, though.”
“I enjoyed tasting you, missus,” he murmurs. “But all good things must come to an end.”
“No more Princess? Oh, boo.”
He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Not here, no, but in my mind, you’ll always be.”
I grin, getting all hot again just from thinking about his hands on my hips.
I look at Phillip, who’s almost crushing his glass in his hand. I love the look on his face, like someone just stomped on his balls while he was lying on the ground, begging for mercy. I chug down my drink. I don’t think I would stop jumping, though.
“You should get back to your husband. I’m sure he’s not too pleased to see you.” He laughs a bit. When I look at him, he’s holding a glass in his hands, one he wasn’t holding before. “Here, take this with you.” He smirks, his tongue darting out to lick the barbell underneath his lip. “To ease his pain.”
I smile back. “Good thinking. You and I make a great team.”
“Keep that fantasy to yourself. There’s no you in this team.” He points at himself. “I have some things to do. Now, go on. Go back to your husband and give him his drink.”
He pushes the glass into my hand and nudges me toward Phillip. I hesitantly walk toward him, constantly looking back at Phoenix, wondering if he’ll disappear. The further I get away from him, the more the gravity of what I’ve done sinks in. There is something about him, something in his eyes that I shouldn’t ignore. Something vicious, just like before, only this time it has nothing to do with fucking. They’re the eyes of a killer.
Why did he hand me this glass? And more importantly, why did I take it?
I should go back to him, but then I realize it’s too late. I’m already right behind Phillip, and he’s noticed me. He stops talking to the woman next to him and focuses his attention on me.
I smile. Then I glance over my shoulder.
One look is all it takes to destroy my world.
And still I hand Phillip the glass.
I should’ve gone with my instinct, should’ve walked away, but I didn’t. In this one split second, I trust the wrong thing. Or maybe it wasn’t trust after all … maybe it was the insatiable need for vengeance that drove me to hand the glass to Phillip.
I knew it wasn’t right.
I had it coming for me.
And yet, I did it anyway.
*
Present
I gasp, taking in the news. My husband was poisoned. I should’ve stopped myself when I handed that glass to him, but by the time I realized, it was already too late. There was poison in his glass. Of course, it all makes sense now. He was after my husband to begin with, and now the deal is done. My husband is dead because of me. Even if I hated him with my guts, I didn’t want him to die. At least, not by my own hands.
That man is a killer, and he used me as his murder weapon.
I killed my own fucking husband.
No way am I going to get away with this.
Chapter Six
Vanessa
Days later
Rain pours down from above, crashing down onto our umbrellas. The sky is dark with gloom, thunder booming every so often. With clattering teeth, I hold onto my black dress so it doesn’t blow over my head. What a dreadful day. Not just the weather, though. Mostly the fact that we’re standing in the graveyard, watching my husband’s casket lower into the ground.
Arthur holds onto me, rubbing my arm as they start shoveling up the wet earth. I just watch the ordeal and try to picture myself crying. It’s the least I can do, even though it’s not working. Maybe thinking about it will work.
There aren’t many guests at his funeral. Half of his friends are inside, where it’s warm and comfy, waiting for the rest of us to come in as well … the other half was happy he was dead. I’m not sure which camp I belong to.
The hospital finally lets me out of their grasp after I begged them numerous times. I was so done with that place, especially after they got all suspicious about Arthur and me. As if we’re not allowed to hold hands and tell each other it’ll be okay. I don’t care if anyone thinks it’s wrong; we both needed someone who understood what we were going through.
He lost his brother, and I lost my husband. We both think Phillip is a complete douchebag. We’re both happy he’s gone. Glad that we finally get to spend time with each other without him looking over our shoulders.
Even if it’s wrong, it’s too good to deny.
I should feel upset about Phillip’s death, but all I feel is anger. Toward him, but also his killer. Why was I involved? Was it an accident? Maybe my husband was supposed to die from the poison, and we weren’t supposed to get into the car. Maybe it didn’t go as planned, and maybe I was a loose end in the entire scheme.
If so, I bet he isn’t counting on me remembering everything.
He probably knows I survived, so he must be watching us closely. I doubt he’ll take the news well if he finds out I can recall the name of my husband’s killer.
Waiting for the sand to fill the grave is not a good time to be pondering these things, but still I can’t stop thinking about it. I never expected it to be him—the man I slept with at the party, out of all people. It’s as if the devil himself played me.
Maybe he knew all along. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe I was just another conquest, just another person he could kill.
Grinding my teeth, I grab Arthur’s hand and entwine my fingers with his. The glass that I gave to him poisoned my husband, but I will not go down for this. I’m not the murderer here. I will find the real one, and I will bring him to justice. Whatever the cost.
*
Phoenix
From a distance, I watch the crowd as they bend over his grave. The umbrella I’m carrying barely keeps the rain from soaking my coat, but at least it’s something. I fucking hate the rain. I prefer sunny days over any other, especially when there’s a funeral. Nothing dampens a happy day more than rain, and this should be one fucking marvelous day.
I eliminated my target. The grave has been dug. The casket containing his body has been lowered into the ground. It’s truly done. Mission accomplished.
However, that woman and my stupid conscience interfering with the job really put a damper on everything. Just by rescuing her, I put myself at risk. If she remembers anything about that day, then she knows I’m the one who murdered her husband. Judging from the way she acted around me, I don’t think she’d be afraid to fight me on who’s responsible for his death. Even though she was the one who ultimately pulled the trigger on him, I was the one who handed her the weapon.
I don’t think she’ll be pleased.
The thought alone makes me grin.
I love it when people are angry with me. Makes for a good show.
She doesn’t know I’m here, and she doesn’t need to know. I’ve been watching her for days, listening to conversations, hoping to catch something that indicates she remembers. If she’s going to tell anyone what she knows, I’d rather be prepared than sorry.
The way she
holds the hand of the man next to her pisses me off, though. Not just because I fucked her, hell no, I’m never jealous. No, I hate it because it means they’re getting close … and whoever she gets close to will learn the truth eventually. No one is safe. No one can be trusted. Everyone will turn into my enemy in the blink of an eye.
I’d rather not cause more deaths than necessary, but if she starts hunting for the truth, I can’t promise anything. Not even if she begs me to … although, of course, I would love to hear it. I can already hear her raspy voice as she asks me to spare her life, touching my body with those soft hands of hers. So desperate to save herself, that she’d even let me fuck her … over and over again until finally I’d kill her anyway. Because that’s just how I roll.
I have one rule for anyone who dares to come into my life; don’t fuck with me, or I’ll fucking kill you. I make zero exceptions. Just because you have a vagina doesn’t mean you’re any less likely to die.
I snort as the crowd near the grave starts to walk away, with the exception of Mister and Missus hold-hands. She leans up against him, and he wraps his hands tightly around her body. Aww … they’re hugging. How sweet. Barf.
If I wasn’t fucking forced to watch her and make sure she didn’t tell on me, I would’ve gone over there and thrown him into the grave with that other bastard. They both belong there anyway. Yeah, I know they’re brothers, but I also know neither of them is good, even though this one portrays himself to be. Fucking liars, all of them, including her. They’re all living a lie, and they know it. And I’m here wondering when the fuck they’re all going to wake up and see what they’re doing.
Too bad for me, it’s only going to get worse. The guy next to her caresses her cheek as she gazes into his eyes. She looks upset, confused even, but I can’t tell well from this distance. However, what I can clearly see is when he leans in to kiss her.
Fucking hell.
Now I want to kill him, too.
Luckily, she takes her lips off his very quickly, and she leans away from him. I guess dear brother-in-law didn’t quite cut it. Of course … no kiss matches up to mine. I’m probably still haunting her dreams … and nightmares … and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter Seven
Vanessa
Arthur presses his lips onto mine, it feels like I’ve gone to heaven. A piece of me floats away as I let him kiss me, dazed by his sudden affection. It makes me feel wanted, something I’ve not experienced in a long time.
However, it isn’t right. Not now. Not here. Even though kissing him is the best feeling in the world right now … I can’t kiss Arthur. Not yet. It’s too soon. It feels wrong. What would people think? Phillip’s death is still too fresh.
I place my hand on Arthur’s chest and push back, allowing room between us. “I can’t,” I murmur.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have,” he says, looking down at the ground. “I just hate to see you unhappy like this.”
My hand instinctively reaches for his face to caress his cheek. “I know. It’s okay.”
He frowns. “I’m trying to fight it, Vanessa. I really am.” He sighs. “This is all my fault.”
“Stop, don’t say that. You aren’t the cause of his death.”
“No, but I’m making things more confusing than they already are.”
“How?” I ask, cocking my head.
He smiles at me. “I’ve always desired you, Vanessa. I won’t lie. I tried to hide it for your sake … for my brother’s sake.”
I place my finger on his lips. “Say no more.”
He nods, realizing now is not the time for love.
Now is the time for mourning. Even if we don’t feel bad about his death, the very least we can do is respect those who do.
I turn my head away to catch a fresh breeze when I notice a man standing between two graves not far from here. I can’t see much, except his dark suit and umbrella, and the way his shades glisten in the light of the lamp as he turns around.
He was watching us.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “Arthur, I have to go.”
“Why? Where are you going?” he asks.
“I … I just want to be alone for a while. I hope you don’t mind. You go sit with the rest of the people, okay?” I turn around and start walking toward the man who’s walking away at an increasing speed.
“Okay …” Arthur says, but I’m no longer listening.
All I can focus on is that man with the umbrella as he walks toward the exit of the premises. He wasn’t just standing there; he was spying on us, and I want to know why. Because if my instincts are right, I know who he is.
What I’m doing is dangerous, and I’m fully aware of the consequences of my actions. I could be hurt or, worse, killed. However, I need answers. I have to know why.
The faster he walks, the more I speed up, which quickly turns into running. When he heads around the corner, I lose sight of him, but I know he’s going to the parking lot. He must be. I mean, there’s nowhere else to go.
Except as I pass the gate, I don’t see anyone.
With my hand above my eyes to block the rain, I gaze around. The parking lot is completely empty and there’s not a soul in sight.
I make my way toward my car, constantly looking around me because I’m afraid the guy might jump me. I wonder if he already raced off with his car, but that wouldn’t make any sense because then I would have heard something. He must be hiding somewhere, in which case it only makes it scarier. I have to get somewhere safe, quickly.
When I get to my car, I turn off the locks which beep and then jerk open the door, so I can get inside fast and slam the door shut before anyone tries to come in. My breathing is rapid and my heart beats out of control as I stare through the front window, looking for him. Rain clatters on the window, almost making it impossible to see anything, so I turn on the windshield wipers. Shivering, I turn on the heater and try to calm myself down. Maybe it wasn’t him at all. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.
“Hello, Vanessa.”
I scream, but a gloved hand smothering my face muffles my sounds. “Be quiet.”
Squealing, I try to pull his fingers away from my mouth, but he comes around from the other side and points something sharp at my throat. “I said be quiet!”
Air enters my nose with short, shallow breaths as I suppress the tears. It’s him. I was right. He was watching us.
“Don’t try anything. Don’t even fucking move a muscle,” he says gruffly.
I nod my head, but stop immediately when I feel the sharp edge of the blade against my flesh.
“Feel this?” he asks, as he pushes the blade further. It’s so sharp; I can feel it cut me just a bit. Enough for a droplet of blood to roll down and fall into my lap. “It’s very sharp and it just loves some fresh blood, especially when it comes from a pretty girl like you.”
I swallow when he says that, fear settling in my veins.
“You try anything, and I will kill you. Do you understand?” he growls.
I nod, blinking away the impending tears.
“Good. I’ll take my hand away but not this knife. You’d better stick to what you just agreed to, or it’s going to cut straight through your neck.”
When he slides his glove off my face, I suck a big breath. Then the questions come rolling out. “You killed him. Are you going to kill me too now?”
“No.” He laughs, running his fingers through his coal black hair. I don’t dare look back at his face, but I can see his eyes narrow at me through the rearview mirror. “I might be a murderer, but I don’t just kill anyone, unless they get in my way.”
“You poisoned my husband!”
His lip quirks up into a smile. “Well, technically, you did.”
I frown. “You won’t get away with this.”
He cocks his head. “The question you should be asking is: Will you?”
“How dare you? You want to put the blame on me, but I’m not the murderer here.”
He leans in, so
close that my breath hitches when he whispers into my ear, “Oh, yes you are …” He taps the knife against my throat like it’s a toy. “Stop lying to yourself, Vanessa. You and I both know you’re full of it. But you can’t fool me.”
He slips back into his seat, watching me while tapping his fingers on his leg. My lips part, but I don’t know how to respond. I don’t know what to say that will get him to talk without cutting my head off.
“You ruined everything …” I say after a while.
“Oh, really? Why is that? Because I killed your traitorous, adulterous husband?” With his teeth, he tugs on the barbell underneath his lip, as if he’s enjoying this.
“Screw you,” I spit, but when he pushes the knife into my skin, I lean into my seat again. “I won’t go down for this.”
“Neither will I, sweet cheeks,” he mocks. “But one of us has to. I’m betting it’s going to be you. It’s not looking good as it is, especially not with everyone seeing you run off with some other guy at the party.”
My lungs suddenly feel constricted. I can’t breathe.
“Imagine the tabloids. Scorned wife kills unfaithful husband out of revenge. I can already see the headlines in front of me.”
He makes a frame with his free hand and then makes a snapping sound in my direction. I blink a couple of times, expecting the knife to bury itself deep in my throat. I don’t know why he wouldn’t do it. I’m the only one who knows the truth. If I’m dead, the secret is buried with me. If I were him, I would kill me right now. Not that I don’t want to live. I’m just stating the facts.
“Don’t you think it’s ironic? Perfect, really. Like the opposite of a fucking fairy tale.” He laughs out loud, making all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“What do you want from me?” I ask. “Are you just here to laugh in my face after killing my husband?”
Within the blink of an eye, his face turns all serious again. “I’m here to tell you to give up now. Don’t look for me. Don’t follow me. Don’t try to find me. Don’t for a second think that you can pin this on me.”