Page 13

A PAIR OF BOUNCERS dragged a drunk and wildly struggling Horace out of the bar, and his back landed on the pavement with a heavy thud as the men let go unceremoniously.

Horace opened his eyes and saw the people waiting in line to get in taking photos of him as they whispered among themselves in between snickers of derision.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Horace yelled as he clumsily pushed himself off the ground just to sway alarmingly on his feet. "You fucking—-"

Someone threw a used, greasy wrapper from a fastfood chain at him. "Go home, loser!"

Bitter humiliation turned Horace's face beet red as the crowd's jeering laughter made him feel like shrinking and wilting inside.

Stumbling away, Horace began the long, tiring walk of shame to get home, and with every step, his rage just kept burning and burning until he felt like he had literally turned himself into a walking time bomb.

It's all that bitch's fault, Horace thought viciously. Goddamn that bitch . His life was hell because of Tabitha Sandler, who no doubt fancied herself now as some rich hoity-toity gal just because she had the devil's own luck getting married to a billionaire asshole from Texas.

Stupid bitch had probably spouted out all kinds of lies about him just to get revenge.

And the bitch certainly knew how to send a man on his knees.

Cowboy What's-His-Face had bought the factory just to have Horace fired in a snap, and all the perks and luxuries he had been used to went away with it.

The company car. The paid clubhouse membership. His very fucking name and reputation.

He was a pariah now, and because that bitch also had some lawyers digging out skeletons from everyone's closets, sexual harassment complaints from decades ago had suddenly resurfaced and allowed the factory to terminate Horace without reference and pension.

Fucking bitch.

He would make her pay one day. Make her pay real bad. Just had to sober up and he would drive all the way to Texas and fucking kidnap and rape her. Cut her legs off so she'd be permanently on her knees and suck his dick all day long.

Just had to sober up—-

A taxi cab drove past Horace before slowing down to park in front of the town's only motel.

Well, would you look at that?

If he was lucky, a stripper could be getting out, and maybe he could get her to service him for an IOU.

The passenger door finally opened, and Horace licked his lips in anticipation.

Come on, come on—-

Slim, denim-clad legs swung out, but Horace didn't let it get him down. Hookers could still wear jeans, too, he told himself. And that was a damn progressive thought, so those fucking feminist old witches from management really had it all wrong about him.

The cab driver gave his passenger a hand with her overnight bag before speeding off. The woman turned, and the sight of her was like getting a bucket of ice-cold water thrown right at his face.

God fucking damn.

Was that really Tabitha Sandler he was seeing?

He watched her head to the front desk, and his own feet lurched into movement. Closer and closer. Until he was near enough to hear her speak—-

"Just for one person, yes," he heard her say to the receptionist, and the voice was unmistakable.

Goddamn bitch was back.

And Horace was in the right place and time to give her a nice, proper welcome.

A RENTAL PICK-UP TRUCK similar to what Nicholas drove back home was already waiting on standby by the time his private jet arrived at a small county-owned airport located just a few miles away from Tabitha's hometown.

After instructing his head of security to continue monitoring Tabitha's cellphone activity, Nicholas drove straight to his wife's old address, and throughout the twenty-minute ride, a rare mix of terror and desperation continuously threatened his self-control.

Ever since landing in Georgia, he had been unable to shake off a pervasive sense of danger, like a sixth sense warning him that his wife was in danger.

When he finally arrived at his destination, the sight that awaited him did nothing to help alleviate his concerns.

All he could do was feel sick to his stomach at the place Tabitha had called home for so many years.

It didn't feel fucking right, that she had to live in a dump like this, while he had just been a two-hour's flight away, with more money than he could spend in several lifetimes.

If only he had known her sooner.

If only he had listened to Joe and didn't let the past cast a shadow on every decision he made.

If only.

Then she might not have left him - might not be all alone now, pregnant, hurt, and vulnerable to all the despicable horrors that plagued the world.

Even knowing that she couldn't possibly be home, he still found himself moving, a part of him needing to know more about her and see for himself the house that served as the setting of her earlier years.

The front door was unlocked, and it swung open with a loud creaking sound.

Unknown to Tabitha, he had also instructed one of his finance managers to purchase the property from the bank, and while he had yet to make up his mind about what to do with it, he had his manager settle all its outstanding bills in the meantime.

And since that should include electricity—-

A flick of the light switch eradicated the darkness that had swathed the entire home, and Nicholas sucked his breath as memories instantly flooded him. In the short amount of time they had been together, Tabitha would occasionally share with him stories from her childhood.

His gaze fell on the framed photo on the center table.

It's my favorite picture of my parents. They were out grocery shopping, and they had three-year-old me in the cart.

A charming story...but what she had kept to herself was that the frame housing it was nothing but cheap plastic now, and the antique silver frame she spoke of had probably been sold off to pay for her Great-Aunt's treatments.

As Nicholas looked around, he found evidence everywhere.

The shelves that she once told him had been filled with books were now empty.

The mahogany table that had been in her family for generation was gone now, and in its stead was another cheap, plastic replacement.

It was cheap fucking plastic every goddamn place he looked, when Tabitha deserved silk and velvet.

And she had been too damn proud to tell him any of this , Nicholas thought grimly.

Stepping back out, he found himself breathing hard as a sudden, strangling feeling of desperation ravaged him.

Where are you, baby?

Come back to me.

Please .

His hand shook as he pulled his phone out from his pocket. He had promised to call Daniel regularly and keep him abreast, the only way to convince his son to stay behind and let Nicholas do his groveling on his own.

But before he could hit Daniel's number on speed dial, his phone suddenly rang, and he sucked his breath when he saw his head of security's name flash on the screen.

Answering the call, he asked right away, "Have you found her?"

"She's down at the local hospital—-"

Nicholas paled. "Has something happened?" But he was already walking back to his car as he spoke, his body seemingly switching to autopilot mode as he got behind the wheel and got the GPS navigator started.

"We've been informed she's fine, but from what we could gather, a case of break-in was reported and—-" The other man's tone turned remorseful. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's been mention of physical battery and rape..."