“If I caught him myself, I might want to kill him,” I say.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” Winston shrugs.
I gape at him, shocked he’s going along with me. “You were the one who said I couldn’t murder anyone. You didn’t want to see me end up in jail.”
“Still don’t want to see that, but is it really necessary to bring the police in? They will only make things messy. And you seem a little more under control when it comes to this asshole. You’ll show restraint. At first.”
At first. Until we take him somewhere more private, more remote.
And then I’ll shoot the fucker right between the eyes. Or bash his head in with a club. Maybe I should stab him in the chest, right where his heart should be? Choke him out?
The possibilities are truly endless, and every single one of them appeals. I’m anxious to take him out once and for all.
Looking forward to having the chance.
Though that’s not what Charlotte wants. I hate that Winston asked me not to tell her about McTiernan. She deserves to know what’s happening…
“You should go. Be at the apartment when your wife gets home,” Winston encourages, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m out of here.” I’m about to pass my brother by as I exit the office when I pause right in front of him, giving in to my impulses.
I hug my brother.
“Thank you, Winny,” I tell him. “For watching out for my girl.”
He slaps me on the back then pushes me away. “I’m putting an extra security watch at your building. I don’t trust that motherfucker.”
I grin at him, pleased that he would do that for us. “Me either. Though I dare that ass to try and walk into my house. I’ll fuck him up.”
“In front of your wife and the overprotective butler? I’d love to see you try.”
Shit. He’s kind of got me there.
***
By the timeI’m entering the apartment, relief smacks me square in the chest when I spot my wife sitting on the floor, petting Doja who’s sitting in front of her.
“You’re a good girl, right? Such a good, pretty girl,” Charlotte croons, rubbing the cat under her chin. Doja is purring so loud I can hear the low hum. It’s a nice sound.
And a nice sight. One I’d love coming home to every night—my beautiful wife safe and secure, spending time with her cat.
Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms and study them, wondering if she can sense I’m in the room with her. I always seem to feel her presence when she shares the same space with me.
Can she feel me?
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” she finally asks, her back to me.
There’s my answer. She does sense me.
“I like watching you with Doja.”
Charlotte glances over her shoulder, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” I push away from the wall and approach her. “Why do you ask?”
“You look upset.” She turns, keeping her focus on the cat. “You sound it too.”
My wife is too perceptive. “Rough day. Found out a few things.”