30
Arjen
Waking up to find the bed empty and realizing my wife had sneaked away had left me with a prickling sense of irritation. Last night had bought us closer as a couple, but when it came to handling business, my wife was giving me a goddamned stomach ulcer.
I dialed Vic, the guard currently charged with protecting her.
“Where is she?”
“She’s safe, Loud. She is currently in the warehouse on 33rd, meeting with her men.”
“Make sure she stays that way.”
“I will.”
My eyes fell closed on a sigh of relief. Keeping up with my wife was going to be the death of me. How could one woman skirt men that were trained to track people? It was becoming abundantly clear, that if Mecca wanted to be left alone, she would find a way.
She hadn’t disclosed any specific details about the extra help who had assisted her with the Haitians. She probably assumed I had forgotten after she had distracted me, but there was no forgetting when it came to her.
Hours later, my phone sounded while I was cutting into the juicy steak Mrs. Kattie had made me for lunch.
“Yes.” It was Vic.
“Boss, she has gone off the grid. No one in our network knows where she is.”
“Fuuuck!”
My anger had risen so fast and hard I’m sure my blood vessels were about to rip through my skin. I reached in front of me and swept all of my dishes off the table, sending them across the room and hitting the wall and floor.
I hung up on Vic just as Mrs. Kattie had rushed into the dining room.
“Sir, is everything all right?” Her startled gaze took in the broken dishes and spilled food all over the place. I was surprised she had the courage to still come into the dining room while I was in it after the compromising position she had caught me and Mecca in. We’d had to end up replacing the table.
I lifted the phone to my ear. “Where is my wife?”
“Arjen?” Marshawn asked.
“Who the fuck else would be asking for his wife?”
The son of a bitch released a low chuckle.
“I don’t know where she is. We had a meeting with her earlier, and she said she had some business to attend to.”
Mrs. Kattie huffed in my direction and left me to my anger when I didn’t respond to her question. Based on her the way she had rolled her eyes at me, I just knew I was twenty different kinds of assholes.
Marshawn started up again. His irritating fucking voice was making my colon twitch.
“You do know that Mecca is going to do whatever Mecca wants to do. She does the same thing with us. You’re not special because you’re the husband.”
Click.
His fucking days were numbered. The only reason he wasn’t dead was because Mecca thought she needed him.
She was determined to make me reach middle age before my time, but she had no idea the lengths I was willing to go through to keep her safe. When was she going to realize that I was willing to do everything in my power to protect her, whether she needed it or not?
* * *
The devil’sblowtorch was in my hand, and I was ready to light someone’s soul on fire.