Page 44 of My Wife

“No,” Clay agrees, offering me the hilt of his knife. “So why don’t you finish the job?”

I step back. “Why would I do that?”

“Some might say it’s mercy for an old friend. But we now better. It’s for the same reason Tommy left him like this, thenprobably fired the gunshots for you to find him.” He bares his teeth at me. “Revenge.”

I shake my head.

“Come on. You know you want to.”

“I don’t?—”

“Yes. You do. Remember what it was like to have your face in his lap.”

My stomach rebels, and not only because of what Tommy—not Tommy,whyTommy—did to Chase. “Clay, please?—”

“He held you down, baby. Tried to fuck your mouth just like I did.”

He’s not listening to me and that makes me angry. I have the sudden urge to do the same. He’s right. Chase is a goner, but Clay…

At the reminder of what we just did, I wipe my lips with the back of my hand. His semen is sticky on my chest, but until I can get away from Clay and wash it off, there’s nothing I can do about that.

His eyes flash.

I rise up from my crouch, glaring at him. “What?”

“Don’t,” Clay says, his voice a warning. “Don’t wipe me off of you unless you want me to mark you all over again. Let him suffer if you want. Fuck it. Let himwatchas I make you mind again.”

I gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Oh, baby. Iwill.”

Chase whimpers again, but that’s the only noise he makes..

But Clay’s right about this, too. Heissuffering. This is cruel. My Clay is fucking deranged, but he’s never beencruel.

I stomp over to him.

He offers me the knife.

I take it, then shudder.

“If you want to make it quick, go for the throat. That’s what I do.”

Yeah. I know.

Fuck. Can I do this? I have nightmares about seeing my mother’s body bobbing on the surface of the lake. The smell of Chase’s guts will haunt me for the rest of my life. I don’t need to add the sensation of drawing a blade across his throat, but the gun is empty because the dying idiot didn’t reload his gun.

Who knows. Maybe Tommy would’ve unloaded the entire chamber in his to get my attention and I would’ve been left in the same situation.

Of course, that’s assuming this isn’t more fiction on Clay’s part.

God, do I wish this was all fake…

Taking a shaky breath, I lower myself next to Clay again.

He has one more word for me: “Please…”

“You won’t hurt anymore,” I promise him.

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