Page 24 of Destroyed With You

I yank at the bonds again. “Let me go, damn you. What do you think you’re doing?”

“You should have done your homework better, sugar. You should have been more interested in what became of the man who was your husband.”

“Is my husband,” I say. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

I see the comprehension on his face as he realizes the impact of my still walking this earth. But he doesn’t smile. There’s absolutely no hint on his gorgeous, rugged face, that still being tied to me could possibly be a good thing.

Fuck.

“I’m not too sure about that,” he says. “I don’t think you are my Linda anymore. After all, Linda Starr is legally dead. I know, because I’m the one they handed the death certificate to.”

My heart twists painfully in my chest. “Winston, I—”

“Doesn’t much matter, though, does it?” His eyes narrow from where he stands above me beside the bed. ”After all, you’re not my Linda. You’re Michelle Moon, and God knows, I’ve never met her.”

I turn my head, not wanting to meet his eyes. I’m still naked, but I haven’t really felt exposed until this moment.

“People pick new names all the time,” I say. “And I told you the truth. I had to get a new life in order to keep you safe.”

“Well, sugar, I surely do appreciate you looking out for me all these years. It warms a man’s heart.”

If it weren’t so tragic, I’d be laughing. Winston used to thicken his Texas drawl just because it amused me. It’s not amusing me now. I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my thoughts. When I’m ready, I open them and look back at him.

He’s seated beside me. His hip resting against my thigh, his hand on the other side of me. It’s close and intimate, and I feel far too exposed and vulnerable. It’s not a feeling I like. I’m certain he knows that, and I force myself to keep a steady gaze as I look into his eyes and say, “For better or for worse, remember? However it plays out, I’m still your wife.”

“It seems to me, couples break up all the time. I think that even if a judge needed a reason to make it official, I’ve got one.”

I turned my head to the side. He’d always been sentimental, and I thought that he would still have some compassion for me. Some nugget I could mine in order to convince him to untie me. Apparently it’s not going to be as easy as I’d hoped.

Once again, I draw a breath and look at him. “All right, then, you tell me. You say I should have gotten to know you better? Why don’t you introduce me to the man who is my husband?”

“Well, that’s a pretty long story, darlin’. It’s true that I’m not with the Sheriff’s Department anymore. But I do still know things. Hell, I even know a few things about you.”

I keep my expression perfectly composed. “Is that a fact? What kinds of things do you know? Other than how to tie a woman down. Should I be worried about my virtue at this point? Is it rape if you’re still my husband?”

“Don’t worry,” he says, his eyes cold. “I’m not going to touch you.”

They shouldn’t, but both his words and his tone rattle me. And in that moment, I have to acknowledge my disappointment. I’d played a sensual game as a means to an end, but I can’t deny that I’d wanted his touch. Once upon a time, this man had been my heart and soul. And even when I’d been mired in a shit storm of secrets and lies, I could always find comfort in his arms. His kisses soothing me. His touch reassuring me.

He hadn’t known my secrets, but he had always known my heart, and the fact that I can no longer claim that comfort from him bothers me even more than the fact that he turned the tables on me, leaving me tied down and frustrated.

With a Herculean effort, I gather my thoughts, telling myself I need to at least pretend to be the professional agent I’m trained to be. “All right,” I say slowly. “I’ll bite. What kind of things do you think you know?”

He flashes a sideways grin. “You tell me.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not the way it works. You say you have information about me? Prove it.”

“Well,” he says drawing the word out in a perfect West Texas drawl. “I suppose I could do that. Or maybe I should use this to convince you to talk.” As he speaks, he gets up and moves to the dresser. He turns around, holding that hideously ugly ring, and I have to force myself not to wince. Apparently, he does know what secret is hidden inside.

I meet his eyes. “Then use it.”

“At least you’re not denying it. But I won’t. I imagine you’re trained to withstand Sodium Pentothal or whatever you have in here.” He puts the ring on the bedside table. “You keep it. Use it to seduce your marks. Although, honestly, with your skills in the bedroom, I’m surprised you need to use a drug. How lucky am I to have been able to witness those unique talents up close and personal?”

“I never faked a thing with you,” I snap. The words are true enough, but I’ve said them mostly to cover the wild spinning of my thoughts as I shift the puzzle pieces in my mind to fit this new reality. “And in case it escaped your notice, you’re the one who tied me up. Naked, I might add. Not exactly what nice little boys do.”

What does he know? What exactly does he know?

“Oh, come on, Linda. Please.” He looks at me with so much disgust I actually turn my head away. “You’re trying to make me look like the villain of this piece? How exactly does that work when you’re the one who faked her death and now earns her keep as a killer for hire?”