Page 144 of Ruthless Creatures

“What?”

“What you said to make Chris go away.”

“You broke our kiss to ask me about another man… while we’re naked in bed?”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“Fine. Deputy Dipshit got a very civilized phone call from me, explaining why it wouldn’t be in his best interests to come anywhere near you again. Ever.”

Natalie looks at me very closely. Probably for clues about where I dumped the body.

I smile. “I said I was civilized.”

“Yes, you did. But I don’t think you actually know what the word means.”

“He’s alive and well, sweetheart. I promise.”

Traumatized, mentally scarred, but alive.

I painted a very explicit picture of what I’d do to him if he didn’t listen to me.

I give Nat one final, heartfelt kiss, then rise from the bed and get dressed.

She watches me in silence.

If her words hadn’t already shredded my heart, now her eyes would.

My voice thick, I say, “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you on your birthday, baby.”

Then I walk out the door, closing it behind me.

I stand there for a moment with my hand on the knob, my eyes closed, sucking in deep breaths to try to manage the ache in my chest. When I feel a nudge on my kneecap, I look down.

Mojo the terrible watchdog sits on the floor next to me, his tongue happily lolling from his mouth.

“Fucking dog,” I mutter, leaning down to scratch him behind the ears. “You’re too big to be such a softie.”

Mojowoofssoftly. I think it means, “Look who’s talking.”

I retrieve my coat from the kitchen chair I threw it on when I came in through the back door and dig into the inside pocket for the 12-gauge buckshot shells I brought with me.

Then, before I leave, I load Natalie’s shotgun.

THIRTY-FIVE

NAT

January passes.

February arrives, bringing heavy snowstorms that shut down the town and close school for days. I spend time with Sloane, focus on my painting, and mark off a black X on my calendar for every day that brings me closer to seeing Kage again.

My birthday is marked with a red heart.

The week before my birthday is Valentine’s Day, which I celebrate by eating an entire pint of ice cream for dinner alone on the sofa while watching TV. Sloane’s out with Brad Pitt, Jr., probably getting stuffed to the gills with his pretty dick.

Kage sends one hundred red roses and a diamond necklace I won’t be able to wear out of the house because it’s so huge.

I don’t care. I wear it around inside with my bathrobe and slippers, feeling like a queen.