Page 4 of Cruel Love

Lilah grunts as she deposits another body behind a truck. “No, it’s okay,” she says, annoyed. “Don’t mind me, boys. I’ll just finish dragging the bodies around by myself.”

Chapter 3

Boxcar

I hate suits.

Give me a pair of jeans and a t-shirt any day of the week. Sneakers. A nice, warm jacket. That’s home for me. Most days, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a damn three-piece but when my wife puts her foot down, I have to obey.

Pretty sure she could kill me with a spoon. Just saying.

I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s just for one night, thankfully. I doubt Fox and Dani are going to get engaged twice. I guess I’ll have to suit-up again for their wedding, but I have plenty of time to mentally prepare myself for that.

“Hey, Caleb...” I fidget in front of the mirror in the corner.

“What?” she calls out from the bathroom.

“Can you tie this thing for me?”

“Tie what?”

“The, uh... the tie.”

“Yeah. Just…” Her voice falls. “Just give me a minute.”

I leave it draped along the back of my neck and wander off toward the kitchen. It didn’t take long before Caleb’s loft apartment above her shop felt a little too small. It’s the two of us up here and while I respect her bohemian tendencies, I’m accustomed to a lifestyle a little more... suave.

I slide onto the stool by the counter to sit in front of my laptop. The web browser is already open to my search of apartment rentals and condominiums in the area. I can’t say Los Angeles is my dream location, but Caleb seems to like it. What the wife wants, the wife gets.

And yes, just deliberately thinking that in my head weirds me out but here I am.

A notification pops up at the bottom of the screen. This isn’t unusual. The motion detector goes off every time a damn mouse scurries along the old walls, but I still check every time it goes off anyway. I flick the keys to bring up the live camera display of the hallway, expecting to see absolutely nothing.

A man stands outside in a leather jacket and jeans. Tall, blond, and British.

I hop off the stool, moving quietly to keep Caleb from hearing me open the door.

Archer Allen flinches once before smiling at me beneath a crown of thick hair with that damn fairytale prince smile.

“Hey, Sparky,” he greets. “You’re looking well. How’s the shoulder?”

I lean forward. “Barely feel it anymore. What are you doing here?” I whisper.

He matches my volume. “I need your help.”

“Help with what?”

He glances over my head. “Is your wife here?”

“Yes, my wife is here...”

“Boxcar?”

I flinch at the sound of her voice and look over my shoulder toward the bathroom. “Yeah, honey?” I call out.

“Could you come here for a minute?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah. Just a second.” I twist back to Archer. “You need to leave.”

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