Page 52 of Parker
The night of the attack, I stopped feeling safe in my own home.
The buzzer on the gate sounded, and I’d hit enter without checking the screen. No one except Boyd ever visits us, so I’d assumed it was him.
When the two dark cars stopped in the driveway, panic set in. My phone was upstairs in our bedroom, charging. I stood at the living room window and watched as four huge men dressed in black exited the cars. One moved to the rear door, holding it open.
I recognized Reginald Worth from my late father-in-law’s funeral. He’s a distinctive man. The kind who oozes control.
They approached my front door. I opened it without releasing the chain, but they barged past me into the house, snapping the feeble metal links.
“What do you want?” I squeaked. “Joel isn’t here.”
I knew the two families didn’t get along well, but my husband must have played down the tension. Reginald looked me over, his gaze hesitating a moment too long on my breasts. I stood mute, waiting for him to speak. Unease bubbled in my stomach.
“How much do you know about your husband’s business?” he asked, catching me off guard.
“That’s none of your concern,” I snapped.
“And the issues they have with me?”
I stood mutely, not having a clue what to say, beyond the fact that my husband had left his daughter at the altar.
“Ah,” he muttered. “The clueless wife. I suspected you were removed from family politics. He keeps you busy playing with fabric while he handles the real work. You do know your husband’s family moves in dark circles, don’t you? Most of their business deals are handled behind closed doors with the aid of a brown envelope or a gun.”
My brain misfired. “Don’t be stupid. Parker Industries has property and investments.”
He laughed, shaking his head, the expression on his face, pure pity.
“Special occasion?” he said, changing the subject, then signaled to the table set for two. I shrugged. “A big effort you’ve made for a midweek dinner,” he continued. “Well, I don’t think your husband will be home anytime soon. He was seen heading to Secrets a few minutes ago.”
My forehead creased. “Secrets?”
He chuckled. “Your husband’s private members’ club. Where gentlemen can enjoy female entertainment.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Fucking liar. Joel doesn’t attend strip clubs.”
“No,” he said, his lips curling into a sly smile. “He owns them.”
I wanted to call him out, to laugh in his face. But something in his eyes—dark, deliberate—told me he wasn’t bluffing. And justlike that, my husband stopped being the man I thought he was. The truth cracked through me, clean and cruel. I could almost hear my heart breaking.
One of his goons moved over to my precisely set table. He picked up a glass, held it up to the light, and turned it between his fingers.
“Put that down,” I ordered.
He shrugged and dropped it. It smashed, shards scattering across the floor.
“Bastard!” I rushed toward him and hit his chest with my hands.
He grabbed my wrists to hold me at arm’s length, laughing loudly. I thrashed madly for release. Then he noticed the wrapped box on the place set for Joel.
“Oh, presents,” he said, shifting my wrists to one hand and plucking the box from the plate with the other. “Wish I had a hot fuck like you to cook me dinner and give me presents.”
He threw the box to another goon who ripped the paper off. He looked down, unimpressed, at the positive pregnancy test in his hand.
No one was meant to see that but Joel. Certainly not the men threatening to destroy him.
“Now, that is good news,” Reginald muttered, watching on. He’d been observing the exchange, chuckling under his breath at my pathetic attempts to fight back.
“Joel Parker’s going to be a daddy. Well… we’ll see.” His voice was dark, and my heart plummeted.
