Page 65 of Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbi 3)

He was staring at me like he was angry with me. But I wasn’t the one who beat up women. He was. He should be angry with himself.

"Why did you do it?" I asked again.

He shook his head. "I need to step out for about an hour. I'll be back before Detective Torres stops by, okay?"

"Okay? No, not okay! Noah!" I screamed as he disappeared out the bedroom door. My head throbbed as I thought about him roaming the streets. "You can't leave this house!" I pulled against the ropes. "You can't let anyone see you!"

Silence.

"Noah, I'm serious!" Tears started spilling down my cheeks. He didn't get to ruin my life for a second time. "I swear to God if you leave this house you'll get us both killed! Get back here!"

No response.

"You can't leave!" I was choking on my sobs. "You can't leave me like this!"

The sound of the garage door opening had me pulling on my ropes so hard I thought I'd dislocated my wrists. "Noah!" I screamed as loud as I could. But I knew he couldn't hear me anymore. The garage door closed and I heard the screeching of tires.

I pressed my hands against the headboard. And I let myself cry. What am I going to do now? How had I let this happen? He tricked me. He tricked me. Of course he tricked me. I'd been duped my whole marriage. I was a sucker. All he had to do was kiss me and I’d let my guard down. I'd let my whole future slip away because of a kiss. Again.

I'd had one job, despite all the things on my list. All I really needed to do was keep Noah tied up while I fled town. I could have done without the confession. Hell, I could have done without the money too. I'm sure there were jobs I was qualified for in Mexico. But I'd thrown all my hopes and dreams away for cash and revenge. There were question marks at the end of my to-do list because I wanted the freedom to change course. Yet, I didn't change course when I knocked Noah's memory out of him. And now...I looked up at the ropes. Now what?

Snuggle Muffins barked.

Oh, my sweet baby Snuggle Muffins. "Snuggle Muffins!" I called. My puppy could be my savior. "Where are you?"

He barked again. It sounded like he was downstairs. I thought about all the times I carried him up and down the stairs. He acted too feeble to do it on his own. But it didn't mean he couldn't. He was just being lazy. If I was a dog, I'd probably demand my owner to carry me everywhere too.

"Snuggle Muffins, come to Mommy!"

He barked again. It didn't sound like he'd moved at all.

"Sweet baby puppy, I really need you to come upstairs!" I wasn't positive, but I was pretty sure dogs had sharp little razor teeth. At least, they did in my mind. Huh, maybe that's why I thought I didn’t like dogs. Well, one of the reasons. I also thought they were gross little monsters, but I found my dog to be quite lovely. He was different than the rest. And he would come up here and save me, I knew he would.

He barked again but still didn't sound any closer.

Don't give dogs a bad name again. "Snuggles, you need to go up the stairs!"

He didn't respond.

"Snuggles, I promise if you climb the stairs right now I'll never make you do it ever again!"

Nothing.

"I swear I'll carry your little prince butt everywhere. Even if there's a one-inch step, I'll lift you up!"

Silence.

"Please, Snuggle Muffins. Please, I need you!"

No response.

He probably got distracted by the mailman or s

omething. Dogs. I looked back at the ropes. Noah said he’d been able to get out of them with a pair of pliers. I looked at the nightstand. I was on Noah's side of the bed, and I honestly had no idea what he kept in his nightstand drawer. I reached my foot out and somehow wrapped my toes around the little knob. But when I went to slide it open, my foot slipped. God, why didn't I take foot exercises more seriously? This was the kind of shit they should have taught in high school. Valuable life lessons instead of learning U.S. history over and over again for the millionth year in a row.

After several more attempts, I finally got the drawer open.

I wasn't at all surprised to see a few dirty magazines. My husband was the scum of the earth. I picked one up after the other with my toes and threw them on the ground. And then I rummaged around in the drawer. I was hoping to at least find a pen or something to help. Obviously a knife would have been better, and I wouldn't put it past him to have one by our bedside. But there was nothing useful.

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