And then he’s gone. The cell door slams shut, and the silence is all-consuming. The darkness is a living entity threatening to devour me. My nerves are on fire, the flames flickering through my body. More than ket. More than any pain I’ve known. Like my entire body is shutting down one organ at a time. Until I’m floating in a sea of agony, guided by my father’s voice, telling me it’s okay to go to sleep. A deep sleep. The deepest sleep.
I’m falling into darkness, where a perfect serenity wraps around me and absorbs the pain. All the suffering is gone like mountain mist that burns off under the morning sun.
If this is dying, I’m okay with it as long as I know Jamie will be safe. She might be pissed I died, but she’ll get over it. Jamie’s resilient. And I know Roger will get her to Jester and Malice, and they’ll get her to Mayhem. And me? I’ll ride this wave, and when I get to hell, I’ll look the devil in the eye and tell him to kiss my fucking ass.
9
Jamie
The rap at my door turns my nerves to stressed bowstrings ready to snap. It can only be one person, and I shoot a worried glance at my closet. My overstuffed backpack is hiding in plain sight. I’ve jammed it with everything to get me through the next few days. I’d take nothing if I could. I want to leave as much of Gomorrah’s rot and misery here, where it belongs.
I crawl off the bed, hiding my agitation and frow at the bastard filling the threshold. “What do you want?”
“Still angry with me?” David’s words run into each other, and my stomach drops.
A drunk David is a dangerous David.
I plant a hand on my hip. “You hit me. Yes, I’m still angry.”
He pouts like a little boy playing dress-up in his daddy’s expensive suit. “You promised to love me.”
I would rather chew broken glass.
“I need time,” I lie. “Go to Vegas. Have your fun. When you get home, I promise, we’ll start over. But you can’t expect me to switch gears so quickly after getting slapped. It doesn’t work that way.”
His unfocused eyes narrow and take my measure slow and lazy. His lips twist in a nasty grin. “Well, if I’m already in jail...”
David shoves his way into my room. He pushes me backward, and I land on the bed. When he tumbles on top of me, his weight pins me to the mattress. I fight beneath him, but my struggle amuses him and drains me.
“Get off me,” I grit out between gnashed teeth.
He can’t rape me, but that doesn’t make him any less of a threat.
“I want to kiss my wife.”
I lean up and give him a peck on the lips. “There. Happy?”
He steadies himself with one hand and grabs a fistful of the front of my hair with the other. “That’s not a kiss.”
Our teeth bang as his lips punish me for all the times I denied him. The kiss is brutal. The tang of blood mingles with the flavor of tequila that flows from his mouth into mine. His hips grind against my stomach, and I lie so still beneath his flaccid body, I might as well be a dead body beneath him. He grunts in frustration and when he raises his head, I gasp for air and…
…he cracks me across the face.
“Cold cunt. Can’t even kiss your husband.”
Not when my husband is you.
“I said I need time to process my anger. This isn’t helping.” I swallow my fury and ignore the throb spreading over my left cheek. “We’ll start over when you come home.”
A lifetime of practiced restraint keeps my words clipped and calm. What I want to do is murder him right here, right now.
David slides off me and smooths his hands over the crisp cut of his suit. “You better mean it, Jamie, because you and your friend? Your lives belong to me.”
Not after tonight.
I sit up and do my level best to portray the picture of serenity as a storm of emotion rages inside me. “Please don’t threaten me. I know I’m yours.”
He glares down at me for a good long while before jabbing a finger in my face. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
