A Dirty Death for Wade Rivers

Prologue

Paige had spent two days telling herself she was over Wade Rivers.

She wasn’t.

“Stupid,” she muttered, hitting her fist against the steering wheel.

“What’s that?” Becca asked. Her hand pressed against the dashboard as Paige took a corner a little too fast. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”

“Relax,” Paige said, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Take a drink from my Stanley. I made a to-go mimosa before we left the house.”

Becca took a quick sip and shuddered. “This is very irresponsible. We’ll be in so much trouble if we get caught.”

“No one is going to catch us. We’re like superheroes. Doing a service for the community. We’re representing women everywhere.”

“I feel a little sick,” Becca said. “Maybe you should slow down.”

Paige tapped her foot to the brake, deciding Becca was right. She was letting her anger get the best of her.

But it was righteous anger.

She’d wasted four months of her life on that miserable parasite, cooking his food and doing his laundry and telling herself it was different this time, that he was different, that a man that beautiful who actually seemed to want her around was worth changing her life for.

She’d swapped out most of her wardrobe for the kind of clothes he liked seeing her in—tighter, shorter, more skin—and told herself showing off her body was the reason she worked out.

She’d even priced out a consultation for a boob job after he’d mentioned, twice, that he’d prefer if she was “more than a handful.”

And worst of all, she’d given up her apartment—a perfectly good apartment with hardwood floors, good light, and a landlord who fixed things when they broke—and moved into his place because he wanted to take things to the next level.

And because she’d wanted to believe living together meant something.

It had meant something all right. It just hadn’t meant something to him.

“I just can’t believe I didn’t see it coming,” Paige said, her hands tightening on the wheel.

“I’m such an idiot. I mean, I’m barely awake.

I roll out of bed—a bed, I might add, that he was perfectly fine having sex with me in the night before.

Do you know the things I’ve let that man do to me in bed? ”

“You’ve mentioned a thing or two,” Becca said. “He’s got issues.”

Paige grunted, grateful Becca was on her side.

“And there I was in nothing but his T-shirt waiting for my first cup of coffee when he strolls in the kitchen after his morning workout and starts making one of those stupid smoothies. Then while the blender is running and I can barely get a coherent thought in my brain, he tells me things just aren’t working between us and that it’s time to end things. ”

“I still think you should’ve thrown something at him. Maybe the coffeepot.”

“I was too shocked to do anything but stand there.” Paige shook her head. “And then he has the nerve to offer me some money to help me get settled in a new place. After I’d already paid him this month’s rent.”

“Scum,” Becca said sympathetically.

“And then he just went to take his shower like he hadn’t upended my world. And I refuse to take a dime from him. I’ll sleep in my car before I take a penny of his money.”

“You’re already sleeping on my couch.”

“That’s different. That’s temporary.”

Becca took another sip from the Stanley and made a face. “This is strong. Is there any orange juice in here?”

“A splash,” Paige said. “And it’s vodka instead of champagne. Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging. I’m just saying it’s eight in the morning and we’re day drinking so you can break into your ex’s condo.”

“We’re not breaking in. I have a key and I’ve paid rent. I have as much right to be there as he does.”

“Semantics.”

“My boots are in there,” she said. “The good ones. And my grandmother’s ring.

My clothes are still in his closet. He was always buying that trashy lingerie for me, too, and wanting me to do that weird role-playing stuff.

I’ve got a whole drawer full. Maybe I’ll set it on fire on my way out the door. ”

“Very dramatic. It sounds just like a country music video. But let’s try to stay out of jail.”

Paige cleared her throat. “I don’t want anything that reminds me I was never enough for him. The clothes, the lingerie, my hair color. Do you know how hard it is to maintain this shade of blond? He never wanted the real me.” A tear squeezed out and ran down her cheek.

Becca reached over and squeezed her knee, quick, before grabbing the dashboard again as they hit a pothole.

“You’re too good for him,” Becca said. “You’ve got a good job and you make good money. You don’t need a man for anything. You’re strong and independent. And all you really need is fabulous rebound sex to help you forget he ever existed.”

Paige choked on a laugh. “Sounds like a plan to me. I’m taking his cashmere robe. The one he never let me wear because he told me it washes me out. And I’m taking the KitchenAid. He doesn’t even cook.”

“Petty. I like it.”

“And it feels so good,” Paige said, her smile holding a hint of malice. “I’m going to rearrange his cabinets. You know how OCD he is about everything being in place. I’m going to move every item to a different cabinet or drawer. He’ll lose his mind.”

Becca burst into hysterical giggles. “That’s brilliant. I’ll help you do the pantry. I’ve never seen a man so obsessed with his pantry.”

“That’s because he keeps all his sacred smoothie ingredients in there and his protein powders. Heaven forbid he run out of anything.”

“You’re a diabolical genius,” Becca said.

“I’ve spent two days on your couch and had more alcohol than I’ve had in my whole life. I’ve had time to plan.”

Neither of them said much the rest of the way, and Paige’s stomach tightened as the building came into view.

“You’re absolutely sure he’s at the studio?” Becca asked. “Isn’t that his car?”

They both looked toward the covered parking area attached to The Windsor and saw the little silver Mercedes in its assigned spot.

“He always walks to work,” she said. “It’s only a couple of blocks away. I don’t even know why he has that stupid thing. He hardly drives it. Everything we needed was in walking distance.”

“You know what they say about men and expensive sports cars,” Becca said.

“In Wade’s case it’s not true,” Paige said. “That man was a magician in bed. Even with the weird stuff.”

“Snap out of it,” Becca said, waving her hand in front of Paige’s forlorn face. “You’ve only had two sexual partners in your life. Guys like Wade are a dime a dozen. Don’t let your lack of experience lead you to bad decisions. You are not going to try and seduce him to get him back.”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” she lied.

“Sell it to someone else,” Becca said. “I’ve known you too long.

Just like I know you don’t sleep around and need the relationship to mean something.

But sometimes you have to change your thinking.

Believe me, you just need to have your socks knocked off and Wade will be nothing but a distant memory.

You’re funny, you make good money, and you’re hot.

You could have a date for the fourth if you put your mind to it. Talk about fireworks.”

“You’re a good friend,” Paige said, feeling better. “Come on. His first class starts at seven and it’s after eight thirty. He’ll be gone for hours.”

“And you’re sure he hasn’t changed the locks.”

“He wouldn’t bother. The bastard.” She found a spot in visitor parking and turned off the engine.

“That would require him to think about me, and he’s already moved on to thinking about whoever comes after me.

I knew his reputation when we hooked up.

” Anger boiled just beneath her skin, hot enough that her eyes stung with it.

She blinked the tears away. She was done crying over him.

She pushed open her door and got out. “Well? Are you coming?”

Becca sighed reluctantly and got out of the car. “I’m not letting you do this alone, and I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk. But just so we’re clear, your stuff is retrieval. His stuff is theft.”

“It’s a gray area,” she said. “Technically it was our stuff when we were together. As far as neighbors or a judge would be concerned, I’m just coming home from a trip with my good friend Becca.”

“That’s the vodka talking,” Becca said.

“A little liquid courage never hurt anyone. Let’s go.”

Wade’s building used to be a warehouse, built sometime in the 1890s, and whoever renovated it had kept the good parts—high ceilings, exposed brick, walnut floors, those Edison bulbs everyone got obsessed with a few years back.

The lobby always smelled like cedar and vanilla because Wade had once mentioned how much he loved those smells, and the cuckoo building manager did his bidding because unbuttoning her blouse a little farther down didn’t work.

Or heck, maybe it had worked and she was just clueless. Like not seeing the breakup coming.

“Ladies,” the concierge said. “Everything okay?”

Paige waved and started giggling and Becca joined her as they stumbled toward the elevator.

“In and out,” Becca said, pressing the button more times than was necessary. She hiccupped again. “We get your things, we leave. No detours. Except the bathroom. I’ve gotta pee.”

“I make no promises.” The doors opened and Paige caught her reflection in the mirrored wall, mimosa flushed and pleased with herself. They stepped inside and the doors closed behind them.

“This is very Ocean’s Eleven of us.”

“It is not.” Becca giggled despite herself. “Those guys had a plan. And Brad Pitt. We just have an empty Stanley cup and the pepper spray in my purse.” She paused and her nose scrunched in confusion. “I actually think I left my purse in the car.”

“So we have nothing,” Paige said.

“Nope.” Becca giggled again. “This is not a good plan.”

“It’s not NOT a good plan,” Paige said, waving a hand.

“And if he comes back early—” Becca said.

“He won’t.”

“But if he does he might shoot us, and then we’ll be on the news.”