The Bad Husband (The Husband Series Book 2)

by Lucian Bane

  “I don’t see why we can’t make it real.”

  She smiled on his lips with an excited giggle. “We are like two detectives, solving a crime.”

  “Mmm,” he said, distracted with the feel of her lips. “Your lips are a crime.”

  She gasped and he slid his tongue in her mouth, holding her head in place while kissing her properly. She should always be kissed properly he thought.

  She drew back and put her fingers on his mouth. “Let’s look her up first to see what we can find.” Charlie retreated slowly to his side of the bed and she smiled at the way he stalked her with his eyes. “Don’t make me fight you. You know I can kick your butt.”

  “Only because I let you,” he assured.

  She smacked him and he shut his laptop deciding to just watch her work since she was so damn fast.

  “Charlie! He had a sister. She was murdered!” Alice began reading. “27-year-old Marcy Alison Ward would wake up early to go to work at a bakery. On December 15th, Marcy was reported missing and was last seen in her rural home in Friend Nebraska. Seven days later, Ward’s body was found. She had been…” Alice gasped before whisper reading, “…stuffed into the trunk of her own car, which was located within a muddy alley near Exeter. The autopsy report revealed that Darcy had been brutally tortured, raped, and strangled to death.” Alice gasped a few words in Chinese. “Anyone with information regarding this case is asked to please contact the Friend Nebraska Police Department.”

  “Who are owned by the man running the evil operation to begin with,” Charlie mumbled. “So, does that mean she had a roommate? It said she was last seen at her home.” Charlie looked at the date again. “That wasn’t even a year ago.”

  “And the case is still open!”

  “Do you think Frank had something to do with his own sister’s death?” The idea that his dad was getting worse had Charlie feeling like they lived with explosives. What if he suddenly remembered what the music symbols meant? He was already paranoid. If he found out they meant Charlie, what would that mean to him? “Why my name and address?” he whispered, baffled.

  He sat back shaking his head while Alice clattered away on the keyboard. Somehow, his family had to know Frank. He had that on his head for a reason. Was he a distant relative maybe? Somebody his dad worked with? He considered everybody in their life, carefully.

  He grabbed his laptop, considering his teachers. Maybe one of them was related to Frank and had a grudge. Maybe something happened in their life that stemmed from something his mother did with those teachers. It was no more farfetched than those music symbols spelling his name and address.

  After finding nothing, he considered the tattoos and searched the town for places that inked. “Bingo,” he whispered.

  “What?” Alice wondered.

  “There’s only one tattoo parlor in town. You think he used them?”

  She glanced at the name and pulled it up on her computer. “Charlie, it’s right by the theater! We can go ask some research questions. I’ve been wanting a tattoo.”

  “You’re not getting a tattoo,” he assured.

  “Why not?” she cried, sounding utterly destroyed.

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “First, we don’t have time for one.”

  “And second?”

  “You can have them tattoo my name on your cute butt. Only, no because nobody can see that but me,” he realized, making her laugh.

  “Maybe right above, with an arrow pointing down?”

  He snorted, shaking his head with a, “Hell no, definitely not,” that got him a big laugh.

  “You are so jeeealouuuus,” she cooed, making him nod.

  “Very.”

  She suddenly leaned on the bed and grabbed her phone and handed it to him.

  “What?”

  “We need to call her. Frank’s mother. For our appointment.”

  Ms. Frank Ward

  He eyed the phone and took a breath.

  “You want me to?” she asked.

  He took the phone. “Give me the number.” Charlie punched it in as she dictated and eyed her. “Is she a Mrs. or Ms.,” he wondered.

  “No husband. But she has kids, so…”

  “Ms. then.”

  “What will you ask?” she whispered, right as he hit send.

  He put the phone to his ear, praying an answering machine would pick up. “Hello?”

  The sharp tone indicated she didn’t like callers. “Ms. Ward?”

  “I don’t want no damn insurance.”

  “No ma’am. I’m Charlie Rabinowski and I’m calling for one of my school assignments.”

  “Oh,” she said, after a second. “What school you with?”

  “I’m actually homeschooled. I’m from Kansas and my family and I are touring Nebraska for our field trip.”

  “Well…what kind of assignment,” she wondered, sounding half curious, half suspicious.

  “It’s actually a math project. On statistics.” Alice wrote quickly on the notebook and held it up to him. “We were…doing a report on vehicular homicides and was hoping we could visit you.” He squinted at her handwriting. Mrs. Alice Rabinowski. He gave her a you’re not helping me look while she returned with his favorite smile that made half-moons of her eyes and his dick hard.

  “I don’t know how I could help with something like that,” the woman said. “I don’t know anything about such things.”

  “Well, in our research we learned that your son was a victim of vehicular homicide and were hoping—”

  “What? No, no. You must have the wrong person.”

  “Oh.” Not her? He mouthed to Alice. “Frank James Ward isn’t your son?”

  “Yes, he is but he wasn’t killed in a vehicular homicide. He committed suicide.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry Ms. Ward. I feel terrible now.”

  “Well…don’t worry about it, it’s…I have peace about it now.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.” Charlie fought for some reason to keep talking to her. “Well…guess we’ll scratch you off the list, then.”

  “I don’t rightly know how many vehicular homicides you’re gonna find in this little town. My Frank was a good boy, so don’t be writing nothing mean about him.”

  “Oh, never. We won’t write a thing about him.”

  “Well if you did, you’d want to write that he was a good kid. Never got into trouble.”

  “I wonder if there’s another Frank James Ward,” Charlie asked her.

  “Not that I’m aware of, no.”

  “So, there wasn’t a Sr.”

  “No. His good for nothin’ dad left when he was three days old. I named Frank after my grandfather, Frank Joseph Ward. He was a conductor. Ran the railroad all his life here.”

  “Wow, the railroad. That happens to be another one of our topics we’re studying.”

  “Oh, now I could tell you anything you wanted to know on that. I was raised on the railroad.”

  “That’s amazing!” Charlie said, with plenty of exuberance. “Did you ride the trains as a kid?”

  “You bet I did!” she said, laughing. “I don’t have reporters at my home,” she said, her tone going dark. “But I’ll make an exception with you.”

  That final bit flowed like honey. “Well, we’re not reporters. We’re not even legal age yet.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Oh, me and my friend Alice. She’s an exchange student from China. She’s staying with us.

  “Oh my. China.” Clear distaste colored her tone.

  “If you’d rather not, we don’t want to bother you.”

  “No,” she decided right away. “It’s fine. Chinese are people too.” She said it like a mantra. One she repeated to help her believe it. From the sound of it, she had a lot of repeating to go still.

  “Well, what time would you like us to come?” he asked.

  “At six AM sharp I have mass,” she informed. “Then I go to the grave to see the kids.”

  Right. She also lost a daughter no
t so long ago. Poor woman.

  “And then I go to the supermarket,” she went on, like she was remembering as she thought. “Mr. Satler expects his root beer right about that time. But I never visit. That’s my good deed,” she explained. “My Frank taught me that everything we do has consequence. Good deeds bring good consequences and bad ones bad. Frank was a good boy. He was always doing good things for people. I don’t really need a whole lotta good. A root-beer’s worth’ll do me. Although the way Mr. Satler loves it, you’d swear I was bringing him a pot of gold,” she laughed sounding amused.

  “Your Frank sounds like a great son.”

  “He’s an angel, honey,” she assured, like she really believed it. “An angel of mercy some days and an angel of judgement on others.”

  Charlie couldn’t wait to have a whole visit with her to learn more. “So, you’d like us to come after your stop at Mr. Satler?”

  “No,” she fussed, like he wasn’t listening. “After Mr. Satler, I have my hair appointment. But I bring my groceries home and put them away, first. I shop every day because I like buying fresh. Frank used to have us a garden you know. But…I can’t do those. My back won’t hear a thing of it. I curl my hair every day for Frank. Before’n you go think’n I’m crazy, I do it out of respect for his memory. I did it every day before he died, and I don’t see why I should change that just because he’s somewhere else. You come up here around two o’clock. I’ll cook us a nice meal. Organic. Frank did everything organic.”

  “A home cooked meal?”

  “And a fresh salad,” she added, with a gentle chuckle. “What did you say your…China girl’s name was?”

  “Alice.”

  “Alice… that’s not very Chinese, is it?”

  “Not really, I think.” He eyed Alice who raised what hands at him, ready to know everything that was going on.

  “I guess they’re tryin to be normal is all,” she mumbled.

  “Probably.” Charlie presented a pained face at Alice, feeling like the devil. “So, two o’clock. Would you like us to bring anything for you Ms. Ward?”

  “Just your appetites and your manners. I expect manners. But I can tell you have them. Just let your China girl know. I know they’re tryin to train them more these days.”

  God, she was awful. “Yes ma’am.”

  “And take a bath,” she said, as an after-thought. “I don’t like dirty company.”

  “Okay, yes. We’ll do that just before we leave.”

  “And no scents, I’m allergic.”

  “Got it, no scents.”

  “Unless it’s Irish Spring. Frank used that and I was used to it.”

  “Okay, well, it’s a date then.”

  “That it is, Charlie. See you tomorrow. And your China person.”

  Charlie hung up and gawked at Alice, wondering where to start.

  “Tell me!” she cried when he didn’t speak fast enough.

  “Problem number one? She is saying Frank committed suicide. She said there was no vehicular homicide.”

  “What?” Alice cried. “That’s…a drastic difference!”

  He nodded a lot.

  “What else did she say?”

  “We have a date tomorrow at 2:00. And it sounds like Frank lived with her before he died too.”

  “Did she mention her daughter?”

  “No, and I actually forgot about that. This poor woman. And… she’s so…strange.”

  “How?”

  “She thinks Frank is a saint, for one. Said he was like an angel of mercy and an angel of judgment. Depending on the day? Or something like that. And holy moly she is so racist!”

  “Really?”

  He eyed her painfully. “I hope you have thick skin.”

  “Me?” She pointed to herself as if shocked it could be about her.

  He took her face in his hands and kissed at her oval mouth. “She doesn’t even realize how horrible she is.”

  “What did she say!?”

  He tilted his head, silently begging not to be forced to tell.

  She got up on her knees, ready to pounce him for the answers.

  He laughed, holding up his hands. “I can’t hardly stand to repeat it.”

  “Tell me! Did she call me a yellow person?”

  God, he could see she wasn’t used to being insulted. But he’d better prepare her, or she might blow their cover tomorrow. “Well… Alice isn’t really a Chinese name, so she figured you’re named that to seem…normal.”

  Her eyes got huge. “Normal!”

  “She’s old and stupid,” he assured, grabbing her arm.

  “What else!” she demanded, easily maneuvering out of his hold.

  He let out a huge sigh and laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’m only telling you because we have to meet her tomorrow, and something tells me she’ll insult you without even realizing she is. You can’t blow our cover,” he warned, aiming his gaze at her.

  “I won’t! I can take it. She is just an old lady. Now tell me.”

  “Well, you need to bathe before you go, because apparently you must stink. And bring your manners, because those don’t come easy for you China girls. Good news is,” he remembered. “Chinese are people too. Or at least she’s trying her best to believe that.” He lunged and pulled her onto him, wrapping his legs and arms around her tight. “Don’t fight me, Mrs. Alice Rabinowski,” he said, smiling and leaning to kiss her.

  She suddenly smiled back, making her lips that perfect softness. “You liked that?”

  “I very much did.”

  They kissed and she gave one of those moans and everything erupted in him. He answered back with a hungry groan, roaming his hands over her perfection, pressing her into him.

  A loud knock hit his door and Alice bolted off him. “Yes?” he called, on his elbows.

  “Sorry, dinner is nearly ready,” his mom called.

  “Coming,” he said back, eyeing Alice and tackling her on the bed. “At least Alice Rabinowski is,” he said, glad she’d not dressed entirely as he slid his hand in her panties, sinking his finger inside her.

  She gasped in shock and wasted no time pushing her panties down and opening her legs wide open for him. “Alice,” he whispered, watching her fingers move over her clit while he fingered her.

  She gave those desperate moans with his name while holding her legs wide open and pulling her shirt up over her tits, “Make me come.”

  He focused on what he felt inside her, reaching deep. He discovered when he angled his finger a certain way, she liked it more. She grabbed his wrist and pulled harder, faster. “Alice, baby,” he swore, dizzy with heat as his dick throbbed from the sight of what she did.

  “Please,” she begged.

  He obeyed her pace until the creamy wet sounds set fire to his mind. The faster and deeper he went, the more desperate her cries became. She clutched her breast with her other hand, her mouth a perfect oval as her head thrashed.

  “Come for me,” he whispered, gritting his teeth as he focused on that spot deep inside her, hitting as fast as he could. This time when she orgasmed, he felt the electrical pulses all over his finger. He didn’t let up, and God, he’d never seen anything more mind-blowing than her in this divine pleasure. His soul rejoiced in the idea that they could share this and would share it forever. Or until they were too old to perform it. Which was forever away for them.

  “Your turn Charlie!” she gasped.

  He hopped off the bed, putting distance between them, winded with desire. “Later,” he promised or begged.

  The look of instant devastation on her face and the way she knelt with her knees open and t-shirt still raised over her perfect breasts brought a laughing groan of torment from him.

  “My mom,” he begged.

  She gave in to a pained look as she shoved her shirt down and crawled off the bed like she’d been slain by her greatest weakness. The comical dramatics had him grinning and loving her more than he thought possible. He hugged her pitiful limp body tigh
t and gave a loud, happy kiss to her droopy cheeks while promising she could make him pay dearly later that night.

  Good-Boy-Franko

  “Holy moly Charlie, that place looks like a serial killer haven!” Alice whispered, as they finally came to the mailbox at the end of the long driveway leading to a two-story white house.

  “No joke,” he whispered, holding her hand as they navigated carefully across a cattle guard. As much as he hated guns, he was actually glad to be carrying one in his backpack. “Make sure your phone is on vibrate,” he reminded her, looking around. “No cows? Horses? Maybe they’re behind the house.” Or maybe they no longer had any.

  She pulled her phone out of her black wool coat pocket and double checked it then slid it back in. It was a beautiful day with clear skies. Even though it was chilly, the brisk, two-mile walk and jackets had them plenty warm.

  “Wonder who cuts the grass out there?” he wondered.

  “Maybe she pays a service?”

  He spied a light blue car parked on the side of the house. “So, we’re here to talk about the railroad and learn whatever we can on the side,” Charlie said.

  “I will not say anything smart since I am a stupid China person,” she reminded him.

  “And a saint to play along with that nonsense,” he said. “And not my girlfriend,” he reminded her when he was about to hold her hand.

  “Right. I’m just an indentured servant learning under a white master boy.”

  He snorted with a laugh. “White master man,” he corrected. “Sass me and I’ll flog you later.”

  “Ohhh,” she mumbled with a smile. “While I’m naked?”

  He shot her glances of shock, his dick jerking in response to the naked. “Where did you learn to talk like this?”

  “I told you I read a lot of romance books. You should try it. You might learn something,” she enticed.

  “How to beat you with a flogger while naked?” he double checked, wondering how that actually worked.

  “And spanking,” she said, as if she didn’t hear how crazy that was.

  He had to laugh at that. “Spanking you?”

  “Look at her car! It’s so cute,” Alice said. “I want one.”