Page 18 of The Perfect Betrayal

“That’s sweet,” she said.

He reached out to give her the windbreaker, and she brought her hand up to take it. He noticed she was holding something in her hand. It flashed in the moonlight.

He only realized that it was the wine corkscrew as she jammed it into his neck. Stunned and in pain, he reached up to stop her. Putting his hands to his throat, he felt the warmth as blood poured over them.

Before he could even try to remove the thing, Monica yanked it out and the flow of blood turned into a spray, covering her and much of the deck. He knew this was bad, mostly because, even as panic gripped him, he felt himself getting weak-kneed.

He toppled forward onto the deck. As the blood from his neck splattered on the deck and shot back up into his face, he was surprised by the thought that came to the forefront of his brain.

“This is going to be so hard to clean up.”

But he wouldn’t have to worry about that.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jessie yanked the knife out of the back of the man’s skull.

It had gone in easier than she’d expected, with a satisfying squish. Maybe she’d just plunged it into the exact right spot. She waited for the man to fall to the ground. But Detective Aaron Riddell was a big guy, and it took a moment.

Then his body began to careen backward. She stepped out of the way just in time. He landed with a thud. But when she looked down at his blank face, she was horrified to find that she was staring at Ryan. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. There was only silence.

She could hear someone shouting her name from a great distance away, but it was too late for them to do anything. Her husband was dead. Even as she desperately tried to call out for help, she heard her own name again. This time it sounded closer.

And then, without her knowing how they’d snuck up on her, someone was beside her, shaking her shoulder. She heard herself gasp as her eyes popped open.

It took her a second to process what was going on. She seemed to be lying on her right side in bed, but she couldn’t be sure. Her vision was hazy, and her mind felt dull.

“Jessie,” the voice said urgently once again, “wake up.”

She recognized it as her husband’s.

“Ryan?”

“You were having a nightmare,” he said from behind her in the bed.

“Ryan?” she repeated, trying to wrap her head around his words.

"Babe, you have a call," he said. "Your phone has been ringing for a while, but you didn't clock it. Are you okay?"

“I’m a little woozy,” she said. Her mouth felt like it had marbles in it.

The phone began ringing again.

“Can you get it?” she asked.

“Really?” he said, surprised. “Okay.”

He reached over her shoulder and grabbed it off her nightstand.

“Jessie Hunt’s phone,” he said.

She heard a male voice on the other end of the line. His tone was rough and only spoke briefly. When he was done, Ryan replied.

“This is her husband, Detective Ryan Hernandez.”

The man on the other spoke for a few more seconds.

“Hold on,” Ryan said, before whispering in her ear. “It’s Riddell.”

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