Page 80 of Stealing His Cupcake
I contemplate not telling her, but I’ve already told her pretty much everything else. There’s no point in holding on to secrets. “He was sent to kill Craig and we kind of ran into each other.”
“Sent to kill Craig? But he didn’t kill him.”
“Yeah, I know but— Wait a second. How doyouknow that?”
In the background, Ethan snorts. “Smooth, bunny. Really smooth. Okay, Amy. I will try to lure Wyatt out by offering him a fake contract but that’s a long shot. If it doesn’t work, I will set up facial recognition crawlers that will scan security cameras, but unless I can narrow down his location at least a little, it will be like looking for a needle in an Earth-sized haystack. Do you have any idea where he might have gone? Did he happen to mention wanting to go to a tropical island to sip cocktails on the beach or something like that? Anything that you can remember might help.”
A tropical island? Somehow, I can’t imagine Wyatt on a beach, getting a tan, but what do I know? I really don’t know him that well. Any future he ever mentioned always involved the two of us together. What a fucking liar. “I don’t know where he could have gone.” If he just hopped on a plane this morning, he might be on the other side of the world by now. But wait. “He’s afraid of flying,” I blurt out, excited that I know something about my husband after all. “And he left his car here, so he must have rented one out somewhere nearby or taken a taxi.”
“Okay, I’ll start there. You mentioned he kidnapped you and forced you to marry him.” I would have expected Ethan to be worried, but it sounds more like he’s holding back a chuckle. “How obsessed was he with you?”
“Very. I think… I think he still is, he’s just, I don’t know. Afraid? Guilty? Something happened and we nearly died and he’s been acting strange ever since.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. Alright. I’ll start in your local area and see if I can spot him anywhere. Does he have a family?”
“Just a grandmother he hates. He left a condition in our marriage settlement that the fees for her nursing home have to be covered until she passes, but I don’t think he would have gone to see her if that’s what you’re suggesting. He always said she was a bitch.”
Kayla snorts. “What a guy you’ve picked, sister. Now, if you two are done, I’m taking this phone and we are having a long, looong conversation.”
“Bunny, but shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”
“Oh, shit. Fuck. Crap. I need to be at court in thirty minutes! Fuck! I’ll call you later, Amy, and you will pick up the phone or I will personally go to that shithole where you live now and strangle you with my bare hands! Love you.”
Laughing, I reply, “Love you too,” even though I can already hear Kayla rushing away. “Do you need something else from me?” I ask Ethan, eager for him to get to work. Judging by the steady keyboard tapping in the background, he might already be on it.
“All photos you have of Wyatt. If you can also scan or take a picture of some of the legal documents with his signature, that might help as well. And don’t worry. I’ll find him. Worry about explaining everything to Kayla because I’ve never seen her this worked up,” he adds with a chuckle.
“Yeah, I’ll talk to her.” I’m about to hang up when I remember something Kayla mentioned. “Hey, Ethan? How did Kayla know Wyatt didn’t kill Craig?” She could have only known that if she knew the real killer, and it almost sounded like—
“Are you sure you want to know?”
A shiver crawls up my spine at the cold edge of Ethan’s voice. I’ve heard it before, from Wyatt when he was killing Turbo and from Slava when she— Well, when she said pretty much anything. Jesus Christ. Ethan is like them. “Is Kayla safe with you?”
“Are you safe with Wyatt? He’s a dangerous man.”
“Yes,” I reply without having to think about it. “Wyatt would never hurt me.”
“Well, there you have your answer. I will do anything to protect Kayla.”
Okay, I’m familiar with this level of obsession. But Craig died over two months ago. If Ethan had already been obsessed with Kayla back then, how long have they been in a relationship already? And what did Ethan mean by that “hypocritical much” when Kayla rebuked me for falling in love with someone who kidnapped me? It can’t be, can it? What would be the odds of both of us meeting crazy men at almost the same time?
Iburst into laughter. Actually, with all the craziness that has been going on with my life lately, this is the least crazy thing to happen. “I have a feeling Kayla will have an interesting story to tell, too. Thank you, Ethan. For everything.” For killing my ex-boyfriend before my stalker could kill him himself. This is definitely a Price of Passion level of drama.
“No problem. If you change your mind about what you want to do with Wyatt, let me know. I’m happy to hunt him down for you.”
This guy. He and Wyatt are like peas in a pod. They’ll either hate each other or become best friends. “Thanks, but no. I need to be the one doing this ‘hunting’. Just let me know when you find him.”
Hanging up, I immediately dial the local DVS office to schedule a road test. I’ve been avoiding it, not feeling ready yet, but it’s unavoidable now. I will need that driver’s license to “hunt down” my husband. And stab him. Now, where’s that knife?
Chapter 57
Wyatt
Thebottleisannoyinglyempty. Again. Seriously, there must be a leak in it because there’s no way I would be this sober if I’d drained the entire thing. The dingy motel room spins as I get up, so maybe I am a little drunk, but nowhere near as much as I want to be. The scar on my abdomen throbs as I stagger across the room searching for a bottle that isn’t empty, but they all are. Fuck! Now I’ll have to crawl to the fucking liquor store or face the world sober, which is not fucking happening.
The world without Amy is depressing enough even with alcohol to take the edge off. Sober, I might just step into the traffic and be done with everything. Truth be told, I don’t know why I even bother getting out of bed anymore. Nothing feels real, nothing holds my attention. Food tastes like ash and even the sharpest liquor goes down like iced tea. There’s no color in the world anymore.
Maybe I’m in Hell.
