He chuckled. “Hold the bowl right here. Do you want to leave me instructions in case this goes south? Do you have a hooker locked in a closet?” He snickered more.
No hooker. Just my wife bound and gagged. No big deal.
“Fuck …” I grimaced as he flushed out my wound.
“Sorry.” After torturing me for a good thirty seconds, he narrowed his eyes, inspecting my cheek. “For this to heal with minimal scaring, I think you need a skin graft.”
“Whatever, just do it.”
“Graham … no. I can’t do a skin graft here in your office. You need to come to the hospital.”
“Then no. Just make it stop bleeding.”
“It won’t look right.”
“You’re the best, Blake. So do your fucking best. I can’t leave.”
He returned another frown. I closed my eyes and worked out my next moves while he repaired my face.
“It’s going to be sore. Here’s some pain meds for you. I can’t get you more without you making an official visit to my office. Don’t get it wet for a few days and change the bandage daily using this antibiotic ointment for the next three days. I’ll check it in a week. Call me if you spike a fever, have increased swelling or redness. Got it?”
I popped a pill into my mouth and swallowed it without water. “Got it. Thanks.”
He zipped his bag and squinted at me. “Are you okay? You don’t have to tell me who bit you, but if you’re in trouble or danger …”
“No trouble. No danger. See yourself out.”
I waited for the door to click shut before sitting up.
“God …” I lay back down. I didn’t do well with injuries to myself. They always made me nauseous and dizzy. After another ten minutes on the sofa, I sat up slower and remained sitting for another few minutes before climbing to my feet.
Taking slow deep breaths, I made my way toward the stairs, swaying a bit but willing myself to man the fuck up and stop being so queasy.
“What are we going to do about this?” I collapsed onto the bed next to Lila. “I’m too fucking weak to deal with you.” I rolled onto my side so we faced each other.
Her wide eyes darted from my eyes to my face.
“A friend stitched me up. Apparently you ate part of my face, so there could be a scar. Remember when we were named Most Beautiful Couple of the Year? I fear that honor will not be bestowed upon us again. You look like you’re dying of cancer and I look like a rabid dog attacked me. We are in such a pickle, babe. I just don’t know what to do with you.”
She wrinkled her nose and thrashed her head side to side.
“Do you have an idea?” I ripped the tape from her mouth.
Lila flinched. “Just kill me.”
“I don’t want to kill you.”
“Then let me go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere but here.”
I rubbed my neck. “Doesn’t work that way. We’re not some low-class suburban couple who no one gives a shit about.”
“Maybe I die in a car accident.”
I inspected her face. It showed no emotion, just like her words. “Fake your death?”
Inching her head side to side, she whispered in that eerily calm voice, “Not fake.”
“You want to die?”
Lila blinked a few times before giving me a single nod. She thought her husband was screwing her best friend. She had no family, no other friends. She lied to Ronin about having cancer. Of course she wanted to die.
Could it be that simple?
That simplistic idea swirled in my head. Was the answer to simply untie her, go back to my daily routine, and wait for her to end things? Evelyn would be devastated. I would be there to comfort her … I would need comforting too. It was brilliant. Well, tragic, but brilliant.
“After Christmas. I don’t want to ruin the holidays for Evelyn, Ronin, and the kids. This is their first holiday season without her mom. I don’t want to add to that grief until Christmas is over.”
How did she do it? How did Lila talk about planning her death with the confidence of planning a dinner party?
“And how am I supposed to believe you won’t say anything before then?”
“You don’t. But you also don’t have a better option than to trust me.”
“You bit my fucking cheek off. And I’m supposed to trust you?”
“Then kill me. Put that pillow over my head again and finish the job.”
Her words stirred up my nausea again. I wasn’t a killer. Wanting someone out of your life or possibly dead (if that was the only choice) was different than killing them. It was why I pulled the pillow away from her head before she stopped moving. I just … I couldn’t do it.
What can I say? I was a nice guy. Nice guys didn’t kill people. Neither did governors or men who wanted to be with Evelyn Taylor. I mean, Evelyn was spontaneous and reckless with her love life. After all, she quickly spread her legs for Ronin, married him without telling me, and got knocked up—twice. But spending eternity with a killer felt like a hard limit for her, even on her most reckless day.
Christmas. That was six weeks away. Six weeks. I spent years waiting for another chance with Evelyn. I could wait six more weeks.
“If you don’t go through with it, I’ll have no choice but to have someone do it for me.”
“What do I have to live for?” she whispered.
I rolled to sitting, feeling more queasiness.
“I’m going to Chicago tomorrow afternoon. The meeting was rescheduled.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I glanced over my shoulder at her.
“Everyone thinks I’m going back to engineering. Appearance matters. You’ve said that a million times.” No emotion. Lila had zero emotion in her voice.
“I’ll be tracking you.” I grabbed her bound arms and untied them. Then I untied her feet.
“You always do.”
Before closing her door, I turned back to her as she rubbed her wrists, especially the one that had a cast on it just a week earlier. Did I feel bad? Sure. But life was filled with tough decisions and unfortunate situations.
Lila’s parents were waiting for her in the afterlife. Maybe it was meant to be more than it was tragic. Maybe one day I would tell Evelyn about Lila’s leukemia and how the accident probably saved her from suffering a far worse death.
Yes. I would tell her that.
I smiled from my revelation, but when Lila glanced up, she didn’t share my excitement, and I was too lightheaded to explain it. I needed to get to my bed before I passed out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lila
My husband raped me. That wasn’t a first.
He almost killed me. That wasn’t a first either.
That brick wall … the end of denial. The point beyond repair and all hope. That was a first.
Me injuring him? That was new too. And it felt incredible. His blood tasted like sweet revenge. Had he killed me, I would have died a happy woman.
I fought back but not with my words. I physically proved to him that if he hurt me, I would hurt him too. However, Evelyn’s betrayal to me, to Ronin … to her kids. That gutted me. It hurt worse than any punch or fall I’d ever taken at the hands of my husband. I tried every way possible to make sense of it in another way. Maybe he blackmailed her. Maybe he forced her.