Page 103 of Danger Close

Whatever game he was playing was one sided.

“She always liked it rough.” I flinched when he winked at me.

Shame. Guilt.Hate.

These vile feelings swirled inside me. Because he was right. At one point, I liked it. Loved it, in fact. But not at the end. Not like this. That’s why it was all my fault.

“I was just giving her what she really wanted.”

My head hung in shame. I watched the dust-covered ground beneath me darken with my falling tears, the dirt collecting in the moisture.

“I mean, your mom is a kinky bitch—”

The door behind us slammed open. I didn’t need to look to see who it was.

I should have felt relieved. I should have been joyful that someone had come to the rescue.

Instead, all I felt was the downward force of my spiral because now, Joe would know exactly what kind of woman he’d married, and how everything of the past thirty years was all my fault.

The man I loved—the man I still love—would know exactly what a depraved and horrendous person I was and he’d never, ever, look at me the same way again.

Chapter 47

Do I Have Your Attention?

Cobra

Daria and I parked half a mile from the radar ping. We found the car Raymond Clark used—with fucking government plates and all—and were able to trace his steps to the blue barn. We cleared the big barn first, rifles at the high ready, making sure that he had no back up.

Norkus had gotten his three accomplices, but you could never be sure.

With that settled, we silently crept around, and made a plan. I approached the house alone, a pistol tucked into the back of my jeans like a fucking amateur. But it couldn’t be helped.

The door to the attached dwelling was ajar and I swerved my body to get through.

The door to my right was shut, and before I stepped through it, I checked for booby traps, hearing the voices on the other end.

“She always likes it rough…” the muffled male voice said with an arrogance that made my blood boil. “I was just giving your mom what she wanted.”

Clear of booby traps, my fingers twitched. Raymond Clark. This was it.

I took a deep breath, savoring the moment before a fight. There was only one thing that tasted better than the moment before a kill… that was my wife’s lips.

“Your mom is a kinky bitch…”

I opened the door, slamming it shut behind me. I thrust my chin up. An open window with thread bear curtains was to my right, open to the woods that surrounded the field.

A small glint of a scope winked at me. My backup was in place.

The wire taped to my chest hair was uncomfortable, but necessary, and I didn’t have time to shave. The pain I’d feel when we pulled that tape off would be nothing compared to what Raymond Clark would feel in a moment.

I didn’t know what I expected to see when I finally confronted this man. I knew better than to believe that bad guys have ugly exteriors. That often wasn’t the case. Devils have angel’s faces, after all.

But I wasn’t quite prepared to see a Brad Pitt lookalike. Brown hair with natural honey highlights and crystal blue eyes.

“So this is what you left me for?” Clark said, waving the gun in his hand with a recklessness that told me he was more of a Hollywood fighter. No professional would have such disregard.

He started laughing, bending in half at the waist as my daughter and wife were on their knees in front of him, their hands zip tied behind their back.