LIPSTICK AND LIES AND DEADLY GOODBYES

by Jodi Vaughn

  LIPSTICK AND LIES AND DEADLY GOODBYES

  THE VAMPIRE HOUSEWIFE SERIES

  Jodi Vaughn

  Copyright © 2019 by Jodi Vaughn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For everyone who has ever been betrayed, hurt, let down, or disappointed. Don’t let that one moment in time define who you are as a person. You are stronger than you know. Grow, travel, learn. And don’t ever settle for anyone or anything.

  * * *

  Xoxo

  Jodi Vaughn

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Also by Jodi Vaughn

  Chapter 1

  “It looks like a penis,” I blurted out to the landscaper through my cell phone while standing in my front yard staring in horror at my illuminated flowerbed. Normally, I’d feel bad about calling someone at midnight, but this was an emergency. Tonight, I had a giant dick in my front yard.

  My hands clutched my stomach, trying to still the nausea rolling around in my gut like a bowling ball. I was oblivious to my expensive heels sinking into the wet ground, and the snowflakes melting against my bare flesh.

  I didn’t need a second opinion to tell me that this was bad. This was really, really bad.

  “Mrs. Jones, I assure you, it’s the Ole Miss Landshark. Just as promised.” Mr. McIntyre, the premier landscaper of our town, drawled through the phone.

  It rarely snowed in Mississippi, and certainly never in March. I should have known it was a sign of something terrible on the horizon, but I was too humiliated by the obscene flowerbed to sense the evil headed my way.

  In the South, college sports is a religion, and my husband worshipped at the altar of Ole Miss. Loving wife that I am, I decided to have the flowerbed turned into the college mascot for his birthday. Instead of the Ole Miss Landshark, I was looking at a red dick with blue balls.

  “You told me you’ve done this type of thing before. The Blue Devil for Duke, The Bulldog for Georgia, and the Gator for Florida. This is supposed to be the Ole Miss Landshark.” I glanced around my quiet neighborhood. How many of my neighbors had seen the flower penis in my front yard before they went to sleep?

  No doubt by tomorrow morning, my phone would be flooded with calls from the neighborhood gossipmongers explaining the rules of the Homeowner’s Association. I wondered if there was something in the bylaws about pornographic displays in one’s yard.

  “Did Fred McDougal put you up to this? I know you two play poker every Saturday night.” I also knew they were thick as thieves sharing the same jail cell.

  Fred McDougal was the biggest Alabama fan in our small town. While he and my husband were friendly, when it came to college football, there was a deep-seated rivalry. McDougal had started the competition by putting up statues on his lawn with the elephant mascot and decorative flags that said Roll Tide, guaranteed to irritate my husband, Miles.

  “No, ma am. Fred didn’t put me up to anything. No rivalry is worth losing a customer. Once this snow starts melting in the morning, you’ll see it looks like your Ole Miss Landshark.”

  Maybe he was right. Perhaps I wouldn’t have an X-rated yard.

  The rumble of a souped-up sports car thundered down the street. I turned, terrified it would be someone I knew.

  “Nice cock, Mrs. Jones!” Ricky Spencer yelled out the window, laughed, and sped towards his house.

  I glared at the foul-mouthed juvenile, wishing his parents would ship his entitled ass off to military school.

  “If you want, I can run out there tomorrow and see for myself.” Mr. McIntyre sounded as concerned as a cat lying in the sun.

  “Perfect, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I ended the call.

  Standing on my tiptoes so my heels wouldn’t sink farther into the snow, I made my way through the front yard to the garage. My husband had two long surgeries today and wouldn’t be home until after midnight. I knew he wouldn’t notice the landscape project until tomorrow. To make sure, I would turn off the exterior lighting of the house when I opened the garage.

  I had told Miles that I was going on an overnight trip to Memphis with some girlfriends to see a play and stay at the Peabody Hotel while our two daughters were at a weekend sleepover. The landscaper had worked all day while I had been at the spa getting a massage and a pedicure, as well as getting my hair and makeup done—all part of the surprise I had cooked up for him.

  It was hard to buy a birthday present for a man who had everything. I had to get creative.

  I climbed into my Volvo and started the engine. I’d been so shocked when I saw the landscaping that I hadn’t bothered to pull my car inside the garage.

  I pressed the button and tapped my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. The garage door slowly went up. My heart lurched when I saw Miles’ Tesla already parked inside.

  He must’ve gotten out of surgery early tonight.

  I pulled in and closed the garage behind me. I turned off the exterior lighting, hoping to camouflage my flowerbed from the neighbors. I eased open the door to the kitchen and peeked inside.

  The lights were off.

  Music spilled out from the bedroom. Miles always played music when he took a shower after work to relax. But tonight, I had other ways to make him relax.

  I took off my heels and padded to the closet in the hall. I pulled out the large red bow hidden in the back. Miles always bought me lingerie, so for his birthday, I thought I’d wear something different, something to spice things up.

  I’d gone to the craft store and paid the lady who makes the bows for door wreaths to make me a bow outfit. I figured she’d ask questions, but to my astonishment, she didn’t. She made a bow large enough to fit around my breasts. There was a slender red strip that ran from my breasts to loop down between my legs and up my back to tie around my neck like a collar.

  I quietly hurried to the bathroom off the kitchen and quickly took off all my clothes. I shimmied into the bow, fiddled with the ribbon, and looked in the mirror.

  I turned side to side and then fluffed the bow. I noted the fine lines around my eyes and how my once pert boobs were starting to sag. I was thirty-five. Despite the years and having two kids, I still looked hot.

  Miles had loved the golf clubs I had gotten him last year. But tonight, he would lust after this birthday present.

  I smiled at my reflection in the mirror.

  I was dressed like a sex present.

  Hooking my red high heels onto my fingers, I tiptoed towards the bedroom. I stopped when I heard voices. He must have turned on the TV.

  The bedroom door was closed.

  Weird. Why would he bother to close the door when he was home alone?

  I shoved my feet into my black Jimmy Choo’s and re
ached for the door handle, slowly turning the knob.

  The door swung open, and I stepped in, propping my hands on my hips in a sexy centerfold pose.

  I froze.

  Blinked.

  Forgot to breathe.

  My stomach hardened, and my throat tightened. Vomit crawled up my esophagus and threatened to spew across the hardwood floor.

  Miles. On the bed. Naked.

  A woman straddling him.

  Riding him like a stripper pole.

  That woman. Nikki.

  My best friend.

  Screwing my husband.

  Having sex in my bed.

  No, no, no!

  The air left my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. My heart kicked in my chest. I thought for a second it had literally stopped beating.

  My world crumbled and dissolved like old, burning paper.

  I had to leave. I had to get away. I turned without a word, without a sound, and ran for the door.

  I thought I’d hear footsteps behind me, or Miles calling out after me.

  I didn’t.

  The only sounds were the click-click of my heels and the pounding in my ears.

  The image of my husband having sex with Nikki in our bed burned its way into every cell of my brain. Panic and pain pushed into my throat. I needed to leave. I needed to run.

  I grabbed my keys and flung open the door. I scrambled inside my Volvo. I pressed the garage button and started the engine.

  I squealed down the driveway, barely missing the neighbor’s mailbox. Tears burned my eyes and streamed down my face.

  After all I’d done: raising the kids, keeping the house, being the perfect wife that supported her husband’s career…

  Hell, I’d even encouraged him to buy the Tesla because I thought he deserved it.

  Because I thought he was such a wonderful husband.

  My lights bobbed and landed on the face of my neighbor, Cal, loading a large plastic bin into the trunk of his car. He caught my gaze. Both of us stared for a split-second of eternity until I sped away.

  Cal had seen me crying and half-naked, speeding out of my driveway. He’d probably tell the whole neighborhood before noon tomorrow.

  But I didn’t care. Not anymore. Not after what I’d just seen.

  I started shivering and couldn’t stop. My marriage. Over. In a matter of seconds, my marriage had ended. My life had ended. Hurt and betrayal stabbed my heart, over and over until I was convinced I would die of a broken heart.

  Tears splattered my red ribbon. I heard myself make a strangled noise like a wild animal. Whimpering. Like roadkill that was injured but wasn’t dead.

  I accelerated out of my gated community. The snow started coming down hard, and I could barely see the road. I should have slowed down. Should have been cautious while driving on the icy street.

  But I just wanted to outdrive my unfaithful, lying, asshat-loser of a husband.

  An animal darted out in the road right in front of me. I stomped the brakes and jerked my wheel.

  My car lost traction on the ice, and my pain turned to terror. The vehicle slid off the road and down into a deep ditch.

  My head whipped back and forth. The seatbelt pulled tight, knocking the wind out of me. My entire body felt as if I’d crashed head-on into a semi-truck.

  I sat there, not moving. I took a painful breath. I was still alive.

  And my husband was still an ass.

  I shoved open my door, sending a sharp pain through my neck. I winced and stepped out into the snow. I crawled up the steep bank, and the wet-cold bit into my bare legs as snowflakes melted on my bare ass.

  Why hadn’t I grabbed any real clothes? Or my purse? Or even my phone? At least it was after midnight. There wouldn’t be many people out this late to see me dressed in nothing but a big, ridiculous bow for my fucking cheating husband.

  I made it to the road and stood shivering, the cold seeping into my skin. I wrapped my arms around my body and squinted into the falling snow, looking for help.

  In the distance, there was the outline of a small, dark shape near the side of the road. Unmoving.

  Over the years, many animals had darted out in front of my car: birds, squirrels, cats, dogs. Every time, I braked then prayed I hadn’t hit them.

  I made my way over to the animal and squatted on the ground. It was a raccoon. Bits of snow clung to its body, but I didn’t see any blood. I brushed my fingers across its fur and stared at its dark, circled eyes.

  A loud rumble roared through the dark night.

  “Get away from him,” a deep voice yelled at me from the darkness. I screamed and tried to scramble to my feet, only to stumble and fall back, my head hitting the icy road. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and I couldn’t see to stand. I heard a loud engine, saw blinding lights.

  Then, everything in my world went dark.

  Chapter 2

  “I’m dying,” I moaned and clutched my throat. White, hot, stabbing pain seared through my neck and chest. My eyes shot open, and I blinked. I was in a dark room, a place I’d never been in before.

  “You’re already dead. Or will be soon,” a sinister male voice echoed in the darkness.

  That voice was vaguely familiar, yet I couldn’t place where I’d heard it. I struggled to sit up, but the pain was too great. I gave up and laid back down. The bow gaped, revealing a nipple. I cringed as I remembered that I was wearing nothing but that dumbass red bow. I quickly covered myself up with my hand. “Dead?”

  “Yes, dead. I didn’t stutter, did I?” he said.

  Fear licked through my veins like flames ignited gasoline. I needed to get away, but my body was weak and wouldn’t obey my brain.

  I wrapped my arms around my chest. He was the guy on the road.

  “Why are you doing this?” My neck spasmed in pain. Dear God. Had he cut my throat? I reached up and gently touched my neck, expecting to feel slashed flesh and blood. Instead, I touched soft material wrapped tightly around my throat.

  “You should be thanking me.” The deadly, deep voice seemed a little closer in the dark.

  Beads of cold sweat popped up across my lip, and I struggled to get up. My mind raced with images of how he would take my life, and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.

  “Please, don’t hurt me. I have kids. I’m a mother and a wife. I…” The memories of the night flooded into my mind, crisp and clear.

  “Finish.”

  “What?” I jerked my head toward his voice. Intense pain tore through my neck. Surely, he had cut my throat. I struggled to get my hand to my neck, needing to hold the mutilated flesh together to stop from bleeding out and dying. People didn’t survive their throats being cut, but I damn well was going to try.

  I couldn’t die. Not today. I had unfinished business.

  * * *

  Why would a killer cut my throat and then put a scarf around my neck? I didn’t have time to think about his sadistic reasoning. My survival instinct had kicked in. I knew I had to get away from him.

  “Leave the scarf alone and finish what you were saying.” His voice was thick with impatience.

  “I have kids.” My crippled voice tripped. A stray tear rolled down my face.

  “Most people do. Doesn’t make you special.” He grunted.

  “I have money. If you let me go, I’ll pay you.” My voice held an unfamiliar urgency. My life had been safe and comfortable, normal. I didn’t realize that everything could be taken away in a matter of seconds, and I would be plunged into danger.

  “I have no use for money.” Heavy footsteps echoed on the hard floor. The faint click of a lamp. A soft, eerie light illuminated the corner of a large room.

  I turned my head and gasped at the pain. But I caught a glimpse of his large back as he stepped away from me and back into the darkness.

  As if sensing my eyes on him, he turned and looked directly at me. It scared me because his eyes weren’t normal. They were red. They were demon’s eyes.

  Fear wrapped a hand around my win
dpipe and squeezed. My heart beat so fast, I thought it might go into a lethal arrhythmia, and I would die right there.

  No one knew where I was. No one knew I was missing. No one would ever find my body.

  “What do you want from me? Why are you hurting me?” The words slipped from my frozen lips and hung in the air.

  His red eyes drew to slits. His lips were pressed together—hard, flat, and angry. Like his gaze. He looked like a monster hell-bent on hurting someone just because he could.

  “You’re asking the wrong questions.”

  “What should I be asking?” My voice quivered, and I felt cold all over. Like my life was being sucked out of my body, and hopelessness was being shoved back in to fill the void.

  “You should be asking why you want to hurt yourself. More importantly, why would you put your life at risk?”

  His words made no sense.

  “I don’t want to hurt myself. You’re the one who brought me here. You’re the one who stabbed me.”

  “I didn’t stab you,” he denied. “Here, see for yourself.”

  He walked over to the table by the lamp and picked up an antique silver mirror. I looked at him.

  He was large, broad as a football player, and I was willing to bet he was all muscle under his ragged wool trench coat and black pants. His hair was long and black, and it appeared he hadn’t washed it in a while. He had a scraggly black beard that might be housing a family of mice. His red eyes were glued to me as he stepped closer and handed me the mirror. His overwhelming odor hit me.

  I gagged and pressed my hand over my nose and tried to breathe through my mouth. It was as if his stench were coating my taste buds.