Page 51 of Sunrise Malice

“You will pay.” Dusan’s voice shakes with anger. “This is an insult that cannot be ignored.”

“Before you hurt my wife, I was going to find a way to make peace. I didn’t want this war. But now I’m fully committed, which means I’m going to gut you, Dusan, even if that leaves me weakened and destroyed at the end of it. You never should have gotten near her. Do you hear me? That was your first and last mistake.”

“Fuck you, Julien, you swine, you piece of?—”

I hang up and get out of the car. I’m whistling softly to myself, a French tune from an old TV commercial, and thinking about how many fences I climbed over when I was a little kid. Dozens, hundreds, thousands even. I got really good at getting pastbarbed wire with the bare minimum of scratches. This time, though, all I have to do is step over, and I’m inside.

Not as fun as jumping it, but effective.

Jean meets me around behind the garage. Three dead men lay on the ground. “All theirs,” he says, sounding grim. “But we have some injured. I’m already running them back.” An SUV drives past, goes over the fallen fence, and speeds off toward the mansion where the doctor’s waiting on call.

“The drugs?”

“Hidden inside. Who knows where the truck is, but that doesn’t matter. We’re missing a few kilos, but it’s mostly all here.”

“Get it loaded.” I crouch down beside one of the corpses and roll him over. Another dead Serbian, a man I’ve never seen before. When I stand, I breathe in the smell of blood and gunpowder, and I smile. “Not a bad night.”

“Pas mal du tout,” Jean agrees. “At least until Dusan makes his next move.”

“This time, we’ll be ready.”

Chapter 22

Brianne

We fall into a routine.

Julien’s up early. He makes coffee and leaves some for me before he disappears for the day. I head into the hospital as soon as I’m allowed and bring Kim whatever she asks for, which is mostly Starbucks and these really terrible donuts from down in the cafeteria that she claims are the best-tasting pastries in the whole wide world. I remain very skeptical. I spend the day with her and notice a rhythm to her moods: happy and drugged, grumpy and in pain, happy and drugged, asleep. I go home after visiting hours and Julien is either working in his room, lifting weights on the terrace, or still at the family mansion. I lock myself in my room until the next day.

Then we do it again.

I’m not unhappy, exactly. I’m not happy either. Mostly I exist in this gaze of exhausted worry.

I’m nervous for Kim and afraid she won’t ever fully recover.

I’m afraid for Julien and worry the war won’t end anytime soon.

Basically, my whole life is a haze of anxiety, and I know there’s one thing that might help alleviate some of my anguish.

Except he’s off limits.

Especially when he’s out lifting weights, which is what he’s doing on this beautiful Saturday morning. I drink good espresso and lounge in the living room flipping through channels and trying not to notice my extremely good-looking, extremely ripped husband doing bicep curls on the other side of the glass.

Unfortunately, it’s really hard not to notice.

The sunlight is perfect. Like, seriously, it’s almost as if someone’s filming a movie out there, or like God herself is trying to make me want Julien more than I already do.

It streams through his thick, dark hair, and sparkles off the sweat on his tan skin. Even his tattoos seem more vibrant this morning.

And the faces he makes. Oh, my sweet baby Jesus, the way he grunts and grimaces as he gets tired during his reps.

It’s enough to put me in the hospital right beside Kim.

Honestly, I’d probably be safer there.

Safer from myself, anyway.

Instead of here, sitting on this couch, staring at my gorgeous husband and fantasizing about all the filthy things I absolutely do not want to do with him.

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