Page 37 of Wicked Little Lies

“Want to bet?”

Want to bet?

The words haunt me because even though I fucking hate Hendrick, I lied to her. I would do it again. If the woman in question being shared was her.

I’d watch them go at it. Fuck, maybe they’d even let me direct. Now that’s something I like to do. Usually, it’s when thewoman only wants me and not the man I’m having fuck her, but new experiences and all…

The door’s now unlocked, and MG’s hair’s damp from her shower. She still looks all kinds of fucked by…well, two men.

My phone buzzes. Hendrick.I’m on my way.

I let Carlos know.

A minute later, her friend bursts in through the door, and the look I get hurled at me isn’t exactly fucking fair, but hey, whatever. She throws herself at Magdalena and wraps her in a brutal hug.

“Lena, what the actual fuck happened, babe?”

Carlos sighs and glances at me, and then Damon, Hendrick’s man enters. Looks like we’re getting a full fucking house.

A minute later, Hendrick enters. There’s blood on his shoe, and he’s wiping his hands.

He glances at me then spends a beat too long looking at MG, and I can’t shake the feeling he knows I fucked her.

“What did you do?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Found the other man. Got information and then killed him. Gold teeth, right, Cat?”

“Yes,” she says warily.

“Talk,” he says to her. “Or I’ll tie you up and make sure you don’t get free for…how long, Cat?Two weeks?”

SEVEN

MAGDALENA

Hendrick knows. He knows.

And not just I fucked Jac. The slight narrowing of his eyes give him away in that. No, I’m talking about the two weeks, or everyone dies.

He killed the one that had me in the basement. And made him talk.

But it’s clear he doesn’t know who’s behind all of this. Not the ones pulling strings.

“I said talk,” Hendrick says.

Harry peels away from me and stalks up, poking him. “Take your toxic masculinity and—”

“Harry,” I say. “This wasn’t either of them.”

She spins. “I got that, but he doesn’t get to fucking talk to you like that. Just because he might be packing between his legs.” Harry then sends her glare Jac’s way. “Same goes for you. And, if either of you hurt her, I’ll cut your balls off, overcook them and then feed them to you both.”

“Are we talking eating our own balls, or…” Jac leans forward, a smirk in place, “do I have to eat his? Because we don’t like each other, as you know from earlier—”

“Enough.” Hendrick doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t smile. He looks at me. “I said fucking talk.”

“How…?” I say, getting up and forcing myself to eat a small sandwich that I wash down with whiskey and soda.

Hendrick wipes a hand over his chin. “Does it matter?”

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