Page 25 of Dead Bled Ringer
There was a man in black creeping silently down the garden pathway behind the garage, making his way very carefully, hugging the shadows.
My stomach clenched with jealousy.
Was this another man, someone Angel actually wanted and liked? Was he here to play with her, too?
I watched as he brought something from his pocket and slowly raised it to the lock.
Angel still lay on the couch, her long golden curls sprawled all over the blanket.
To all appearances, she looked asleep.
Was she going to pop up in a minute and scream dramatically, because it had all been playacting? Because this was a man she was truly interested in?
Even though it was only going to cause me pain, I sheathed my knife and crept closer, wiping the blood away with the front of my shirt.
I had made it to the side of the garage when the other man slipped inside, his big bulk blocking out the gentle flicker of the glowing embers in the fireplace.
If I was a better man, I would let Angel go. Let her divorce my brother and find happiness with another man.
But I wasn’t quite that much of a fucking saint.
And as I stealthily followed the man’s steps, I saw him pick up a pillow from the couch and press it over her face.
Chapter Six
ANGEL
Never could I have imagined Henry would look so. . .desperatewhen I told him it was over.
But when I refused to budge and insisted on sleeping downstairs, he looked almostemotional. Like he really was sad our marriage was over. And I might have bought his act and relented except for the fact that my cunt was still uncomfortably heated and dripping from my brother-in-law’s tongue.
Hunter was literally disgusting and depraved, and I hadonlytricked him because I wanted to make damn sure he didn’t make a fool of me twice.
But when pussy-eating like that was out there, it was hard to feel too sad about getting a divorce.
Not that I wouldeverwant to see Hunter again. If he was so twisted that he thought it was all a very good joke to fuck me while pretending to be my husband, I didn’t want anything to do with him. And I couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d do something like that except a sick sense of humor.
That night my dreams were uneasy, chaotic things and I tossed and turned uneasily on the couch. It wasn’t long after I finally fell asleep that I woke up with my heart pounding. It was like I was suffocating in my dream. . .
For some reason I couldn’tmove. As a horrible, choking fear filled me, I flailed wildly in this nightmare, my arms and legs heavy with my panic.
I was trapped in the coils of the nightmare and I couldn’t escape. . .
Then suddenly the pressure on my chest lifted abruptly, and I sat up, gasping for breath and clutching the back of the couch.
There was a sickening thud beside me, and I saw Hunter Santerre shoving a big masked man into the side of the wall.
I wasn’t sure how Iinstantlyknew it was Hunter and not Henry this time. There was something in the set of his shoulders that I recognized.
What the fuck was Hunter doing here?
He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that showed off the dark tattoos that snaked menacingly up both his big arms.
I screamed as the other man took a swing at my brother-in-law. He was all dressed in black with a black mask over his face and I realized in horror that this intruder had been inmyliving room, next tomycouch, bending down over me and applying pressure. . .
Hunter dodged the blow and head-butted the other man, knocking him viciously into the wall.
Shit! How had this happened? Had I somehow forgotten to lock the back door?
