Chapter 47

FORTY-SEVEN

They were at the motel again. Different room, same sheets made practically of sandpaper. She didn’t care. He was more passionate this time. It was almost as if his feelings finally matched hers. When they were finished, she collapsed into a boneless heap next to him. Her chest heaved, perspiration covered her body, and the euphoria going off like fireworks in her head made her feel high.

He poured her a glass of wine from a bottle he’d brought with him. He’d remembered the opener but hadn’t brought glasses so he used the small foam coffee cups the motel stocked in every room. Pretty fancy considering how seedy the place was on the outside.

They sat beside one another, backs leaning against the headboard. He held out his cup and she touched it with hers, giggling. “What are we toasting to?”

“To the beginning.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. The beginning of them? But her hopes were dashed when he added, “Of the plan.”

Stiffening, she refused to taste any more of the wine, even though he’d brought her favorite. Then she remembered how he’d confided in her and no one else. It didn’t matter that she’d given him little choice, it only mattered that they were here now, talking about something sacred to him, and she was a part of it. A part of his life again, finally.

His eyes glazed over as he stared straight ahead, envisioning the havoc he’d wreak, no doubt. After a moment, he blinked and came back to her. “Did you find him? The monster?”

Abandoning her earlier disappointment, she sipped more wine. It was the only name on his list that he truly cared about. It meant everything to him, and he meant everything to her. She knew the bloodshed that could be avoided if she gave him what he wanted.

“I did.” She placed her cup on the nightstand and turned so she could look deeply into his eyes. “I’m so sorry, my love. He died ten years ago. Car accident.”

A vein in his temple throbbed. His features turned to stone.

“I truly am sorry. But it’s not over. There are the others.”

He said nothing.

Desperate to bring him back to her, she rattled off the names on the list. It was their mental list. She wasn’t ever to put it in writing anywhere, so she’d committed it to memory. When she still got no response, she repeated it.

Finally, the life returned to his eyes. He recited the names after her, leaving three of them off.

“You forgot a few of them,” she said. “Or have you changed your mind?”

The coldness in his eyes sent a chill over her entire body, despite the sweat still drying on her skin. “I’ve already taken care of two of them. The last…” he waved a hand in the air, “I changed my mind.”

“You can’t be serious.”

His mood changed like the wind, again. She could barely keep up. Brow furrowed, he said, “I’m very serious. I have something different planned for her.”

He told her because now he told her everything. It took all of her willpower not to leap out of the bed and stalk out of the room because once again, what was between them would end in unspeakable violence that left her utterly alone and him in the arms of another woman.