Stepping into the bedroom Ben could see that as he had expected, the woman was not alone. Curled up beside her on the double bed rested a dark man with ridiculous Elvis hair. He was almost surprised the King was the only one with her.

“Bitch, get up,” he growled, wrapping his fingers around a fist full of hair and yanking her out of bed. She screamed as she hit the carpeted floor, cowering away from the man before her.

“Please, leave me alone!” she cried, covering her head with her arms and drawing her knees into her chest. “My purse is on the dresser, take whatever you want!”

“It’s me, you idiot,” he snapped, crossing his arms and casting his eyes at the King. It was amazing the guy was still asleep amidst her vexing cries. Perhaps she had slipped him a little something in a drink?

“What do you want?” she asked, posing sultrily on the floor and taunting him with her emerald eyes. “Need a little attention that your wife can’t give?” Ben smirked and kicked her legs closed.


“Keep your legs closed, you’ll attract flies,” he retorted as her lips curled into a sneer. “I don’t want your attention; and my wife may be fucking boring but at least she’s not a slut.”

Not that it mattered. He didn’t really love Aimee either. She was fairly tolerable most of the time, but there were moments he’d look to find her staring coldly at him. It was almost as if she knew what he was doing, like she could see right through all the walls he had erected around himself. He knew she couldn’t possibly know what was happening, but it still chilled him to the core.

“That you know of,” she grumbled, rising to her feet and covering herself with a robe. “So then, what do you want?”

Ben grabbed her arm and dragged her into the adjoining bath, slamming the door behind him. Spinning on his heels, he turned his hard gaze on her.

She looked pitiful sitting on the toilet with her crazy, disheveled hair. The ill light in the small room made her appear small and decrepit. Her eyes were dull and devoid of any real feeling, mimicking the sad empty caverns of her cold heart.

“What happened to Aimee last night?” he demanded, his eyebrows arching in annoyance. “She just barely walked her ass through the door about thirty minutes ago.”


“The hell if I know,” Nina shrugged, watching him blankly. “She was there, and then she wasn’t.”

He held her in his eyes, studying her movements. She had to be lying, hiding something. Aimee wasn’t the sort of woman to just walk off without telling anyone. Had Nina agreed to cover for her?

“That’s all you’ve got?” he spat, crossing his arms. “I told you to watch her!”


“And I’m not the fucking babysitter!” she growled, standing up and stomping across the room. Sighing, she stared out the window. “This is ridiculous, Ben.”

What was ridiculous was that she wasn’t holding up her end of the fucking deal. She wasn’t playing the loving god-dammed confidant she was supposed to be for Aimee. Oh no, it had been a long time since they’d done anything together. How the hell was he supposed to know anything if Nina was always off fucking around with numerous moronic men!?

He had to wonder if she’d somehow forgotten why she was part of the whole thing. Surely she hadn’t lost all memory of the things she’d done, and the dirt he had on her. Oh did he ever have some good shit on her! It was worse than what he himself had done. He had her wrapped around his finger; she would do anything he said.

“Get together with her again and find out what the hell it was she was doing,” he instructed, opening the door. “I don’t care what you have to do. Just bring me back some answers.”


“And if she’s messing around?” Nina asked from the window, her eyes still locked on something outside. “What then?”

Then it meant things would be easier than he had thought. He just needed some time and little more information, and he could finish what he had started.


“Just get the goods.” With that, he turned and left.

Continue to 1.23