His Missing Wife by Jaime Hendricks (nice books to read .TXT) 📕

all excited that he found you, and he was looking for a way to bring you back into his life. Our life. My life. I can’t have that, Tessa. I can’t.”

“You’re not listening, Maribel. I don’t want him.” My thumb slides under the knot. I can get out. I have to get out.

She shakes her head back and forth wildly. “But he wants you. No one will take him away from me. Not you, and not that other slut at the bank. He fucked her last night, you know. Rosita. Called me and bragged about it too.”

For a hot second, I see her humanity, like she almost hears how ridiculous she sounds when she speaks out loud. But then, the wild-eyed beast is back, the one trying to get rid of me permanently. I try to reason with her on a human level. A woman’s level.

“Maribel, please. Don’t you see what type of man he is? He brags about cheating on you? Like you said, you’re smart. You’re beautiful. You can do so much better than an asshole like him.”

She points the gun at me again. “Don’t talk about him that way.”

I look away. “It’s okay, Maribel. I get it. You’re obsessed with him. I was too, which is why I let him do what he did. He’s a narcissist. You don’t realize you’re being manipulated. There’s a better life out there. I found one. You can too.”

“No. I need you gone.” Then she nods, like she just made up the next sentence on the spot. “Yes, I need you gone, and Rosita too. I won’t have him leave me for her either.”

My eyes are closed, and it hits me. “Rosita? Are you—”

“Of course, she’s next!” She waves the gun around in the air again. “You think I’m going to let her come between us?”

“Maribel, you’re never going to get away with this.”

“Sure I am. I had a great teacher.” She taps the side of her head. “Once, someone told me it was a good idea to plant my grandmother’s ring in her bedroom to prove an affair.” Her eyes are digging into my brain and I know I’m fucked. “Of course, I pretended I did, and that Drew’s influence kept it all under wraps, but the truth is, it’s a brilliant ploy. I’ll kill you and hide your body for a few days. I’ll kill Rosita. I’m going to plant this gun in the house.” She waves it around again, too casual, like water is going to spout out of the tip, not bullets. “I have my ways to get into your house again—trust me—and I’ll plant something of hers in your bedroom. She’s a climber. Fucked Drew, told him she’s been fucking Trey too. Nice pillow talk, huh? She’s a climber and a slut.”

That can’t be true. Trey loves Aleesha; I’ve seen them together. “Rosita isn’t like that. You don’t know her.”

“You don’t know her. Drew asked Rosita to steal your wedding picture from James’s office so he could examine it and make sure it was really you. She’s doing it tomorrow. She’s going to take the thing right off the desk in the morning and give it to Drew later in the day when they have a meeting. She’s helping him break you and James up, then she’s going to take your husband’s job, which she feels she should’ve gotten anyway. She’s a horrible person. Don’t defend her.”

That’s unfortunate, if true. But it doesn’t mean she needs to die. “Please, don’t hurt Rosita,” I beg.

“I can make it look like James and Rosita were having an affair, and that he wanted to get rid of you both. I know where to put your blood, Tessa. I know how to frame James for both murders, so thanks for that. You’re smarter than you look.”

The plan was brilliant and, unfortunately, mine.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” I whisper. “Maribel, please. Please don’t do this. Don’t do it to James. He’s a good man. I’ll do anything, I’m begging you.”

She rises and goes to the living room, just as I’m able to squirm out of the ropes. But it’s not soon enough, and she comes back into the kitchen with my favorite pillow. The huge gold memory foam pillow that James and I leaned on together on the L-shaped couch while watching TV in the evenings. The bronze tassels swing as she positions the gun deep into it to muffle the sound.

I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the gun to go off.

Goodbye, James. Goodbye, unborn child. I never even got a chance to see his eyes light up when I told him. It’s the one card I have left.

“Maribel, I’m pregnant. Please. Please don’t.”

She twitches and I immediately see the regret in her eyes when the gun goes off, likely by accident. Memory foam is everywhere. I’m on my back, the pain is searing, hot, and my first instinct is to try to rip the bullet out, but I’m no surgeon. I’m going to die. Worse than that, my baby is going to die. I’m sad, hopeless, and desperate.

I’m also enraged. Maternal instinct is real.

The guttural sound that comes out of my mouth stuns me, especially as I leap up and attack a shocked Maribel, who doesn’t expect me to be free from the ropes. Before I know it, I’m on top of her, the gun goes flying backward, and my hands are around her throat, my nails digging into her neck. There’s so much blood around us, I don’t know whether I opened her throat or it’s just pouring out of me at an alarming rate. She screams a high-pitched scream, as much as she can muster while I attempt to strangle the murderer out of her. Her arms flail around me, and she reaches out and plunges her finger into my wound.

I don’t think the bullet hit anything vital, but it’s in my shoulder and it fucking hurts when she presses into it. I falter.

Now she’s standing above