I don’t see the duffel, but I have the handle, so I give it a hefty tug until an avalanche ofstufftumbles free and attempts to mess up my organization.
Drawing the leather bag closer, I yank the zipper open with one hand, and fist a pile of Archer’s things in the other, but before I can stuff them in, a silver glint catches my eye.
My heart stutters when I count guns.
One. Two. Three. Four of them.
Beneath those, I find money; several bricks that, as I flick through them, easily come to ten thousand dollars per stack.
Next, I find a little black notebook, and snarl when, opening it, I find names. Jenny (Black Lace Thong). Lucy (Loosey.) Maria (She’s got that accent). He’s got a whole roster of women here waiting, with little flirty notes written beside each, and neatly marked phone numbers for when he feels lonely.
Angrily, I toss the book back into the bag and make my own mental note—I’m gonna kill him—then stop with a glower when I find an open pack of cigarettes, and below that, a passport.
With my heart in my throat and my stomach swirling with nerves, I lean across to the doorway to make sure Aubree is still in the kitchen, then straightening, I snatch up the passport and peek inside to find Archer’s face staring back at me.
It looks more like a mugshot than a passport photograph, but everything else is as it should be. His date of birth. His city of birth. Full name. Passport number. And as I flip pages, I find stamps of all the places he’s traveled. Spain. Italy. Mexico. Argentina. Russia.
Archer left his family in New York when he was sixteen years old. He’s now thirty-two, which means every one of these stamps, every country he’s visited, cameafterthe breakdown of his family unit.
“Interesting.” I snap the book closed and drop it back in the bag for later dissection. Leaving everything else alone, I then shove his clothes on top. Jeans. When I remember, I add socks.
If the cops stop us and search my bags between here and my apartment, chances are I’m going to prison. And Chloe will tell them I’m the vigilante, too, since she’s hell-bent on revenge.
“Did you say something?” Aubree stops by the bedroom door, making me jump because I didn’t hear her approach. With a smug grin, she looks down at the mess I’ve surrounded myself with and laughs. “Need a hand?”
“Nope.”
Zipping the duffel closed and pushing to my feet, I swing the bag onto my shoulder and kick everything else back into the closet. A stray belt, a hat with the local basketball team’s logo on the front.
I mask my anger and paste on a fake smile, then I grunt under the weight of tens of thousands of dollars, enough guns to make me sweat, and Jenny’s little black thong.
Who the fuck is Jenny?
“Come on.” It takes my shoulder and both my hands to keep the bag off the ground, which means as I approach the cat’s cage, I stop to wonder how I’ll carry both.
“I’ve got Chloe.” Reading my mind, Aubree shoots around me and picks up the cage, then she crosses the kitchen and grabs the bags of cat food. “He’s lucky we love him, huh?” She trudges toward the apartment door and sets her hand on the knob as she finishes, “We gotta carry all this crap across to your place.”
“Mmhm.” I clench my jaw and consider which way I’ll hurt him when I see him. Pliers on his fingers, maybe? Garden shears on his tongue? Shove Jenny’slittle black thongup his ass? “You have no idea.”
Just as Aubree prepares to open the door and let us out, a knock on the other side brings my attention to the now. Away from Archer’s seedy upbringing, and back to the man I married.
He’s never lied to me—except about smoking. Which means everything I’ve found today has, sadly, been disclosed in some fashion or another since we met.
Doesn’t mean I’m not going to hurt him, though.
Stepping closer to the door and nudging Aubree out of the way, I peek through the peephole to catch a glimpse of our visitor.
The man I find on the other side is not anyone I expected to see.
“Shit.” My heart pounds as I push away from the door. Glancing across to Aubree, I know from her expression that my face has paled. “Um…”
“Let me in, sis.” Felix’s taunting laugh sends goosebumps skittering along my skin.
I have no choice but to open the door. Staying here makes us sitting ducks. Letting him shout in the hall makes us all targets.
“Hellooooo?” he calls out playfully. “I know you’re in there, beautiful.”
“Just relax,” I whisper to Aubree. “Okay?” She’s been scarred by this man already, but not once has she actually seen his face. She’s never heard his voice. “Stick close to my side, don’t make eye contact. Don’t talk to him.”