Page 62 of So Silent

“Good. Now piss off, I have paperwork to do.”

Desrouleaux laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, then headed off with Chavez. Those two also weren’t dating, but Michael could tell from her expression that Chavez wished desperately that they were.

Look elsewhere, kid. The only intimacy Desrouleaux’s interested in these days is with a tub of ice cream and reruns of The Wire.

His phone buzzed, and Michael smiled when he saw the name of the woman he actually was dating.

His grin widened. Hell no, I married that chick. She’s my wife!

Life was good.

He opened the text, not quite letting himself hope it was a picture of her in that lacy dress she wore for Christmas last year.

It was a picture of her.

She wasn’t wearing the dress.

She wasn’t wearing much of anything except a terrified expression and a few ropes that bound her legs and arms to the table.

The caption said, She’s real pretty when she’s on her back, isn’t she? I think I’ll have some fun with her one last time.

Michael was out of his chair so fast that his knee took off the right side of his desk. He felt a sharp pain in his leg, but he’d deal with it later. A few people exclaimed in alarm as he ran out the door, but he’d deal with that later too.

His fear amplified the rage that boiled inside him. He should have done this a long time ago. He should have put a bullet in that asshole’s head the moment Ellie told him what West did to her.

Well, he’d make up for lost time now.

Hold on, Ellie. I’m coming.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Faith walked into her apartment and grinned as ninety pounds of fluffy love leaped into her arms. She laughed and endured fifteen seconds of face-licking before putting Turk down and saying, "Stop it. You'll make David jealous."

Turk barked happily and tried to jump into her arms again. She turned her face away this time and said, “All right, all right, relax. I love you too. Calm down. If you want steak for dinner, you need to chill and let me change and wash my face, okay?”

Turk immediately plopped to a seat and stared at her. “Yeah, I thought that would work,” she teased. “Can’t get this guy to sit for guests, but say the word steak and he’s the golden puppy.”

She giggled and quickly changed. She giggled again when she saw herself in the mirror. She really wasn’t a dress girl, but she was very much a David Friedman girl, and the look he got in his eyes when she wore a skirt was enough to make the awkwardness worth it. Besides, she wouldn’t be wearing it for very long.

She giggled again at that thought and quickly washed her face. She considered reapplying her makeup but settled for just a touch of lipstick. Less stuff to smear.

She reddened at that thought and decided it was a good thing she hadn’t put any more color in her cheeks. Boy, she was in a mood today!

Well, it was David’s fault. He had to wear his sport coat with his white button-down the night before. He knew how hot she got when he dressed up.

Now it was her turn to dress up. See how he liked it.

He would, of course, like it very much. Which, of course, was the point.

Her phone buzzed. David. She giggled and decided to send him a picture of herself in the dress. She took the picture and opened the text, prepared to send her response without even reading it.

But when she saw the picture attached to David’s text, thoughts of lovemaking vanished from her mind. The world spun around her, and her hands trembled badly enough that she nearly dropped her phone.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

David had been beaten so badly he was nearly unrecognizable. His boyishly handsome face was pulped and bloody. His jaw had been broken, and his nose had been flatten against his cheek.

“Oh God, no,” she whispered again.

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