He stood, tightening the drawstring of his pants. “What kind of explanation could there possibly be for a man finding his wife in a whorehouse?” He looked at her. “How many men do you sleep with every day? Three? Six? Ten?”
She felt as if he had punched her in the chest, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.
“Do you enjoy it?”
“No! Jack, I’m not a whore,” she cried.
His jaw clenched. But his gaze roamed over her costume and her bared breasts.
“No, I’m not,” she cried, yanking up the bodice, grabbing him. Tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t want to go with Kincaid. I had no choice. He forced me and hurt me. He promised me he’d let me go when he was tired of me—except he’s lied!” Her voice was high, and she could feel a wild hysteria threatening to engulf her. “Tonight he was going to make me sleep with Anderson—he said he was tired of me, that I bored him. Tonight was the first time, I swear it.” She moaned, and tears trickled down her face. Why was he just looking at her like that? Like she was a freak and he couldn’t care less? There was no compassion or comprehension in his eyes, just coldness.
“More lies?”
“No, it’s the truth! Jack, dammit, aren’t you listening? I love you! But it’s hopeless for us, and I didn’t want to be in love with you. But now, with the baby—”
He grabbed her. “Baby? What baby?”
She bit her lip, managed a smile, eyes glistening. “I’m going to have your baby, Jack.”
He stared. “Is this another lie, Candice? So help me, if it is, you’ll live to regret it.”
“I haven’t had my monthly time since before we met. I know I’m carrying your child.” And she smiled, fighting the tears.
He swung away and cursed.
She could feel him fighting her. “Jack, will you help me get away from him? Help me get home?” Her voice was tense and low. When he didn’t move, she said, “If you don’t believe how bad it is, look at that window.”
Jack turned his head, but his expression remained hard and unreadable as he stared at the boarded-up window.
“Jack—listen. Virgil will be back any time now. Jim, that big red-haired brute, is guarding me. We have to do something soon!”
His face was a dangerous mask. “I’ll kill Kincaid for you, Candice.”
“Jack!” She was on her feet, clinging to him. “No, Jack, I’m afraid!”
He looked at her as if she were an annoying nuisance and a stranger.
“He’ll shoot you in the back,” she cried. “Jack, just help me get out of here.”
He grabbed her and shook her. “This had better not be a lie, Candice,” he rasped. “You have some feelings left over for Kincaid?”
“No,” Candice said. “But I’m afraid for you. Please don’t confront him, you don’t know how cruel he is. Let’s just run away.”
“How cruel is he?” Jack asked impassively, still clasping her shoulders.
She met his gaze directly. “He likes hurting me. He likes raping me.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “A man can’t rape his own wife.”
Candice bit down on her lip, hard. She was afraid to tell him the rest of it, that Kincaid was not her husband. Oh, God, she was afraid. “Jack, please.”
He released her abruptly, “I’ll wait for him downstairs.”
“No! Didn’t you hear me? If he sees you first, he’ll murder you without thinking twice!”
That stopped him, the hysteria in her voice, and Candice saw by the way he was looking at her that he was wondering if she had really meant what she’d said before—that she loved him.
“Don’t take the chance,” she begged, clutching his shirt. “Jack, how I feel about you isn’t a lie, I love you, and I don’t want you to die.”
