Chapter 16
My father used to say, “A threat without action is just noise.”
He also used to say, “Talk is cheap, and pain speaks louder.”
I was raised on both of those mentalities and use them regularly.
Threats and violence get you what you want.
But it’s not so simple when it comes to my new wife.
So far, she’s given no fucks about my threats, even when they’ve included violence. I’ve also not followed through with a single one—a rarity for me.
What happened tonight further proves my threats aren’t working.
It doesn’t matter how many toes I threaten; she’ll run on nine if she has to.
Neither of us speaks for the rest of the ride home as I consider what I’ll do with her when we get there. I’ve checked to make sure her door is locked a few times. I don’t trust her not to attempt to roll out of the SUV and flee, and I’m not in the mood to chase her down again.
She chews on her nails as I turn into the drive and open the gate.
I park near the front door, and she jumps at the sound of the door unlocking. With no hesitation, she steps out of the SUV.
I’m quickly behind her. Her body straightens when I hold my Glock barrel against the back of her head.
Maybe the problem is, my wife doesn’t believe how merciless I can be.
That I’m all bark and no bite.
“Go inside.” I shove her forward.
I follow close behind, our strides matching, and we climb the steps.
She opens the door she stupidly left unlocked during her escape. All the lights are on as we enter the foyer.
I push her toward the stairs, and she walks up them with caution. When she stops at her bedroom, I tug her back, stopping her from going inside.
Digging my fingers into her shoulder with my free hand, I guide her away from the doorway and jam the gun harder against her skull, pushing her away from it.
“Keep walking,” I demand.
Her shoulders hunch as she tiptoes forward.
When we reach the last door on the left, I collect the key from my pocket and unlock it. I open the door, and she sucks in a gulp of air as I shove her inside the room.
I release her, flip on the light, and slam the door shut behind us.
She shakes her head, as if needing confirmation that the gun is gone before sweeping her gaze over the bedroom.
I take her in, seeing dirt on her white shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Two twigs are stuck between strands of her thick hair.
With my Glock, I motion toward the chair in the corner of the room. “Sit down.”
She glances from me to the door, to the chair, and then back at me. Just when I think she’s about to give me shit, she exhales a long breath and plops down on the chair.
I lower the gun and take a long stride so I’m standing over her. “Let’s play a game.”
She settles her hands in her lap. “Can I take a hard pass on that?”
I don’t know if I want to shoot her in the mouth or fuck it.
No one has ever spoken to me like this, apart from my father when I was younger. People don’t defy me, for fear I’ll strangle them with my bare hands.
I crack my neck, unsure of what to do with her.
“Who were you talking to on the phone?” I ask.
She doesn’t reply.
I retrieve her phone from my pocket. “What’s your passcode?”
“Tell me the code to the gate, and I’ll tell you.”
I narrow my eyes before kneeling in front of her and holding the phone up to her face. She attempts to swat it away so it doesn’t face unlock, so I grip her face tight in my hand to keep it in place.
As soon as it unlocks, I stand and start going through her phone log, seeing multiple calls from an unknown number.
“Who’s the unknown number?” I ask.
She half shrugs. “I told you, a solicitor.” The words leave her mouth as if she’s bored with this conversation.
I hold up the phone, showing her the screen. “A solicitor you’ve spoken with multiple times?”
If I were having this conversation with some Joe Schmoe, they’d have already had a few punches to the face or bullet holes inside them.
She opens her mouth, most likely to spew some bullshit response, so I exit the call log and go to her texts.
“Hey!” She tries to stand from the chair, but I push her back down. “You can’t go through my phone. That’s an invasion of privacy.”
I keep my eyes on her phone as I speak. “I either go through your phone or I grab a pair of pliers and take off your pinkie toe. Which do you prefer, guaio?”
“C.) None of the above.”
The last person she texted was Dasha, and I open their text thread. I read the messages. She’s sent her countless texts the past few days with no reply. I reread the texts sent on our wedding day before returning to the call log.
As if on perfect timing, the phone vibrates in my hand.
Unknown Number flashes across the screen.
Liliya lunges out of the chair, and again, I shove her back onto it.
“Hi, Dasha,” I answer.
“Oh shit,” the woman says before ending the call.
I hold the phone in Liliya’s face. “It’s your sister, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know who it is.” She gives me another one of those half shrugs.
“Don’t die for her.”
She slams her mouth shut.
I throw the phone over my shoulder and hear it hit something. “Frankly, I don’t care if you talk to your sister.”
“Okay,” she mocks, rolling her eyes.
“I’d just be careful not to let your brother know since he wants to kill her and all.”
She blinks at me. “You also want to kill her.”
“Am I a Dasha fan? Fuck no. But I got a wife. One I’d prefer not to hunt down all the goddamn time.” I inch closer, standing over her again. “But if you’re plotting anything with her, I’ll kill her and you.”
She bites into her lower lip, nibbling on it.
“Listen,” I say, sounding the calmest I have in my life. “I’m your husband, and you’re my wife. Neither of us wanted it, but it happened. Now, it’d be much easier if we learned how to cohabitate and if you’d stop running off every second I left you alone.”
She clips a strand of ratty hair behind her ear. “Well, here’s an idea: don’t put a gun to my freaking head.”
“You ran prior to that, so nice try.” I crook my finger. “Now, come on. Let’s get your shit. Because you and me? We’re sharing a room now.”
She winces, pulling herself back in the chair. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Too fucking bad. I’m tired of chasing you.”