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

I almost make it, and then my hair is yanked from behind. I fall to the ground and now I’m being dragged backward as my noodle legs fight for stability against the hardwood floor. He lets go unexpectedly and my head clunks onto the floor. Then he grabs my injured arm and the pain from the bullet wound makes me go limp as he pulls me back into the bedroom.

Drew grunts and lifts a leg, about to stomp on me and I instinctively clutch my abdomen. Don’t you dare hurt this baby. I will fucking kill you.

He puts his leg down. This asshole really thinks this baby is going to be his.

But he still doesn’t give a shit about me, evidenced by how he leans down and punches my face. Twice. Jesus, between Damon’s punch and this one may have been the longest I’ve gone without being hit in two decades, and the pain isn’t familiar anymore.

I’ve grown accustomed to being loved.

I’m on the floor, spitting blood. Weak. Drew puts his hand on his head and paces.

“You just never fucking learn, do you?” he says.

Oh, I’ve learned a thing or two, you psychotic asshole. Like when I dropped a wine glass and you picked up a shard—and cut me with it, so I would “learn” not to break things.

Thank you for that, darling husband of mine.

The next time he turns to pace away from me, I grab a piece of the shattered lamp and I stab it right into his Achilles.

The sound that emits from his mouth is animalistic and he drops to the ground and grasps his ankle. He’s still wailing in pain as I crawl on the rest of the broken glass, cutting freedom into my palms as I head toward the door. I stand as he reaches for me, a last desperate attempt to keep me in his clutches.

I find the stairs and rush down. There’s a front door. I open it and I can’t believe my eyes.

Two men are running up the lawn. I squint, and I see Evan. And the other is James, shouting my name.

Is this a dream? My bloody arms are outstretched, reaching for him. I scream his name for help, because I’m free.

I’m free.

I’m about to run toward him but seeing James caused me to let my guard down, and I don’t hear Drew drum down the stairs behind me. He’s bigger and stronger than I am. I should’ve known it was going to take more than a shard of glass to take him down, and he grabs my hair again. Now I feel the familiar touch of a gun barrel at my temple.

James and Evan stop cold. James’s face is twisted.

“Andy?” he says. “Andy, what are you doing to my wife?”

Right. That’s what Maribel told me. James doesn’t know yet, that the person he was working with is Drew. My abusive ex-husband.

“Get back!” Drew shouts. “I’ll shoot her!”

“He’s my husband, James,” I say. “The one I was running from.”

Tears are running down my face as James takes a step closer, and in a flash, the gun is pointed at him instead.

No. Not James. I stop struggling beneath Drew’s arm. I’ll go with you, Asshole. Just don’t hurt James.

James is a mixture of relief and confusion and rage. His hands are up defensively, as are Evan’s. James doesn’t take his eyes off me.

“It’s okay, Tessa. It’s over. They know. They’re on their way,” he says with a nod. “He’s not getting away with this.”

And then I see the black vans speeding over from a distance, and the best feeling I’ve ever had washes over me as Drew loosens his grip. He knows he lost.

He lets me go.

I run to James and collapse in his arms. “You saved me,” I say. “Again.”

He holds my face and it doesn’t hurt, and he kisses my lips despite the blood. “I never stopped looking. I told you I’d always protect you.”

It’s the best movie ending I’ve ever seen.

Until the gun goes off behind me.

40

James

It was weeks later, on a Monday morning, and James was officially a free man. Exonerated. All charges dropped. Ralph from the electronics store was right. The record button was in an awkward spot, and Tessa forgot to turn it off when Maribel showed up at the house. Maribel then stole the device and erased everything from that evening, but she didn’t know about the Moon backup. The entire incident, along with Maribel’s explanation on who she was, and what she was going to do to Rosita, was on there. So was the interview she did with James as Bella Johnson. Uploaded to the Moon.

Evidence. The whole thing was open and shut.

Between the recording, Tessa’s testimony, Maribel’s body in that basement, and Andrew Grant’s decision to take his own life by eating the barrel of that gun instead of facing what was coming to him, James was free. So was Tessa. Finally.

Of course, Trey got out unscathed. Rosita’s being pregnant was attributed to some boyfriend no one knew of, and James decided not to let the cat out of the bag. There was no reason to hurt Trey’s wife, Aleesha. Even Jane Doe was identified in the interim. She was from out of state, and they arrested her boyfriend in connection with her murder.

The paperwork was filed and expedited, and Tessa’s current ID was legal. For the next few days, anyway.

“You ready?” he asked her as he finished his coffee from his favorite mug.

World’s Greatest Dad.

“Yeah, I think I have everything,” she said. “Everything I could find, anyway.”

She’d been working hard on the nursery, all grays and yellows—daffodils—with pops of pink and blue. They didn’t know the sex of the baby yet and they planned to keep it a surprise.

She stood by the door with a small bag over her shoulder. James washed out the mug at the sink, then set it on the shelf to dry while they were away. His bags were already packed and in the trunk. He