The Housewife Assassin's Handbook (25 page)

He grabs it with one hand and scrutinizes it carefully. “What is it?”

“Kryptonite.”

He stares down hard at it.

Then he gets it.

He laughs as he pulls me back onto the bed. I read the awe he has for me in his eyes. It tells me exactly what I need to know:

That I am the love of his life. His partner, and his soul mate.

That he’ll never let me go, ever again.

I am in bliss.

My husband is back. 

Chapter 19

Fair Play

Following rules, having respect for your opponents, congratulating the other team’s players for their win, or shrugging off losses like ladies and gentlemen. 

All of these are the essence of fair play. 

Teaching your children these rules of engagement is an ongoing effort on any mother’s part. Other parents—those who have worse manners, or who are more competitive than you—can hinder this effort by setting a bad example for their children, who in turn influence your child to break your rules.

At this point, you should pull out the horsewhip. A good beating will keep these parents in line, and prove to be a most influential teaching tool.

Jeff’s game against the Portland Pioneers for the league’s Western Conference championship is tied eight all, in the top of the ninth. The winner will play the Eastern Conference champions for the national title.

Needless to say, the crowd is riveted.

I am, too, but not because of Jeff’s pitching, or because of the other team’s ability to steal bases.

It’s because Carl is here, too.

He sauntered over to the ball field around the bottom of the fourth. As he leaned over the fence, Jack, who was cheering Jeff on, grabbed me around the waist and gave it a squeeze.

Carl’s fists came together. From our few precious years together, I know that is not a good sign.

For the past hour I’ve tried, very casually, to detach Jack’s arm, but he sticks to me like flypaper. 

I am his prize, and he’s not letting go.

Now, as Trisha and Mary join us, Carl’s gaze moves from the field to the bleachers. His frown deepens as Trisha hops onto Jack’s lap.

My tears fog my sunglasses. I can only wonder how I’d feel if I were in his place: watching my family fall in love with my nemesis, my enemy—

But no, Carl, I am not in love with Jack.

Okay, maybe I was, once upon a time.

The crowd erupts into a frenzy as Jeff strikes out the Pioneers’ last batter. Pride-filled smiles break out onto the faces of both the men in my life.

All I can do is cry.

“The little princess’s Fudgesicle is on me,” he says as he hands Abu a dollar.

Trisha knows better than to take ice cream from a stranger, no matter how handsome or blond.

Or even if her dimples come from him.

Instead, she looks over at me for my approval. But before I can give my consent, Jack says, “Sorry, guy. Nice offer, but it sets a bad precedent for our kids.”

The tone of his voice says it all: Leave us the hell alone.

Even Mary and Jeff pick up on it. So does Abu, who slides out the back door of his van.

Our kids. Carl’s eyes glitter with hate when he hears that from Jack. “Just trying to be neighborly,” he murmurs with a smile. He bends down by Trisha, but he’s looking up at me. “You want it, don’t you, honey?”

Doesn’t he see the longing in my eyes?

Jack does.

Before I know it, Jack has punched Carl in the gut.

Carl doubles over in pain. Our children gasp as Jack tosses him onto the ground and puts his heel on Carl’s throat, leaving my husband gasping.

As the kids look on in horror, Abu grabs Jack’s arms from behind while I shove him off.

“Jack, dude, cool it,” Abu murmurs in his ear.

Carl hears him too, and smiles. Abu’s cover has been blown.

Thank goodness Carl is one of the good guys.

Hearing Abu’s plea, Jack freezes. His chest rises as he takes a deep breath. Finally he moves his foot off Carl’s neck.

Then he takes Trisha’s hand and walks away. Mary and Jeff trail behind him.

Not me. My legs and heart are leaden. It’s as if the whole world has stopped. I want to help my husband, but doing so will give him away. So instead I just stare down at him.

“Donna! Are you coming?”

I look up to see Jack frowning angrily at me. He is already a full block down the street.

I wish he were a million miles away.

No. In truth, after what he just did to Carl, I wish he were dead.

Chapter 20

How to Make Your Bed

A beautiful bed starts with a streamlined look—and that means hospital corners! To make one, simply drape the sheet evenly over the bed, leaving about one foot of fabric hanging beyond the head of it. Now stand beside the bed, toward its center, and pick up one of the side hems. Pull it toward you into a taut crease, then raise the creased section over the mattress so the sheet makes a triangular tent over the bed. Next, smooth the sheet flat along the mattress's side. Then fold the creased section down over the side and tuck the sheet snugly under the mattress. Repeat the process at the foot of the bed.

Although this ensures a flat surface, any dead bodies in the bed will spoil a clean tailored look. Solution: A colorful array of bolsters and pillows will cover up even the messiest corpse!

“You’re so damn good. Jesus, Donna, why do I remember you as some innocent young thing?”

I laugh as I prop my head up on one elbow to look at Carl. I’ve no doubt that his compliment is warmed by the afterglow of our vigorous lovemaking. 

“Because I was, once. But that was before life roughed me up. Hadn’t you heard? I was widowed. I had to adapt.”

The minute I say that, I could bite my tongue. His eyes, glazed with the warmth of sex, suddenly go cold.

“What does that mean, ‘adapt’? What exactly has Ryan got you doing over there at Acme?” He jolts straight up. “I presume it isn’t an office job, or you’d be at work right now.”

The moment of truth has come. Sort of. “You’re right. It’s not an office job. I’m … an operative.”

He lets that sink in. “Operative, or honeypot?”

He wants me to level with him: to admit that I lure men into sexual traps that will kill them.

To ’fess up about the fact that I’m the one who does the killing.

But I don’t want him to see me that way. I want to be the woman he remembers, not the killer I’ve become.

It’s too late. By not answering him, I’ve told him what he really didn’t want to hear.

He can’t face me. No, let me put it this way: he doesn’t want to look at my face while we make love yet again.

Or I should say, while we fuck. Why else would he flip me over, onto my knees? Why else would he press his broad-fingered hand on the small of my back, as if to hold me in place: 

In submission to him.

He need not worry that I’ll fight, let alone bolt. I love him too much to leave him. 

I am ready for him to take out his grief in losing me—the real me.

Be careful what you wish for…

His other hand cups an ass cheek tightly, as if weighing his options. His decision is to wrap his fingers around the lacey strand of my thong and twist it so tightly that I flinch at the pain he inflicts. I don’t remember our lovemaking ever being this … rough.

He grunts as he enters me. My gasp is more pain than pleasure. “Carl, please! You’re hurting me!” I try to pull away, but he’s too strong for me. I can’t believe he doesn’t care.

Or else he’s punishing me.

He moves in and out of me, like a piston, slamming into me from behind until I am raw.

Finally spent, he groans and collapses onto my back. Our hearts are beating so fast—

But not in tandem, as they once did.

I shove him off. “I didn’t enjoy that.”

His eyes narrow as they sweep over me. “Maybe you’d like it better with Jack.”

“Don’t start that again, please. Either you trust me, or you don’t.” Obviously he doesn’t.

“No, I’m being serious. I want you to fuck him.”

I’m so angry that I jump out of the bed. “Don’t, Carl. Don’t play games with me.”

“You know me better than anyone. If I play, it’s to win. Period. And I know you want to help me do that. So, what do you say?”

“I say you’re sick.” I reach for my blouse and start buttoning up. “I say you can go to hell. I’m not yours to use as bait.”

“Honey, think for a moment: if you do, he’ll have no reason to be suspicious when you’re over here.”

He has a point.

Besides, it gets me off the hook for lying to Carl about Jack and me in the first place.

Still I don’t like it. I try to put myself in his place: would I have told him to make love with the enemy?

Not if there was a chance for him to fall in love with someone else.

There is only one way to get him off this stupid idea. “You’re an idiot. I’m not Jack Craig’s type. Besides, he already has his little neighborhood fuck buddy.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Nola Janoff.”

When Carl hears her name, the smile fades from his face. “Ha. So he’s making it with the neighborhood slut.”

I’ve called her that so many times that hearing it from him shouldn’t bother me, but for some reason it does.

“How do you know they’re fucking?”

“I’ve caught her sneaking around our house. He tries to pretend that he’s using her to get information on the Quorum, but he’s such a man-ho—”

Carl’s laugh sends chills up my spine.

“I take it you’ve met her?” I try to sound casual, but I desperately need to know.

He pauses, then nods. “Sure. At the grocery store. She tried to pick me up.”

“Did she succeed?”

Carl clears his throat before answering. “I’m not into whores. I’m into you, babe. You know that.” His kiss, so hard and so deep, leaves me dizzy.

No, that is not what has me breathing so hard. It’s the knowledge that he is lying to me. That little catch in his throat is his tell.

I grab my jacket and skirt and head for the door. I’m too pissed to listen to his crap.

“Donna, wait.” Even stumbling into his jeans, he beats me to the threshold. “Why leave so soon?”

“I’m a mother, remember? I have to pick up my kids.”

“They’re not ‘yours’, they’re ours.” The thought that I may think otherwise is so bitter to him that he spits out the words. “Speaking of which, I thought I told you to get them out of town.”

“Yes, well … we have a few days left, and I—”

“You need to take them now. Like, today.” He pulls out a slip of paper from his back pocket, along with a car key. “I’ve secured a safe house for you, just north of San Francisco, in Mill Valley. It’s fully equipped, the schools are great, and the rent has been paid for a full year in advance. You can take the car in my garage. The registration is clean.”

“But I—we can’t leave now! Jeff’s next game for the league’s national title is on Saturday! He’d be heartbroken if I took him out of town before then. They’ll be playing in Anaheim’s Edison Field. The game is being televised on ESPN2. It’s just two days off, so we have plenty of time—”

He shakes his head adamantly.