Authors: Jacqueline Wulf
Just that slight difference changed everything. Mykael knew
he should have known better. He did know better, he just didn’t care right
then. He was living in the moment. And in this moment, his wife was everything
he could have hoped for, in bed at least.
Summer half cocked her head, looking up at him with a
smoldering look that could have set the house on fire. Instead of trying to get
up, instead of trying to fight him, she just stared at him. Just when he
thought he couldn’t stand it one more moment she tipped her head back and
laughed. “What’s so funny?” Mykael asked, but he could tell that Summer didn’t
seem mad anymore. “You want me, do you?” Her clear eyes studied his face as her
fingers deftly worked the buttons of her sheer lace blouse open, exposing her
creamy breasts. Still gazing into his eyes, she peeled the clinging fabric away
tossing the blouse indifferently over the side of the bed. “Come and get me,
then,” she said, her voice a tease that told him she wanted him just as much as
he wanted her.
Mykael climbed onto the bed, covered her mouth in his, and
kissed her long and deep. His kiss demanded all that he’d been denied for so
long in their marriage. And now she was willing to give it, he was going to
take all he could get. He could never get enough of her. When he came up for
breath it was to move his lips to her nipple, kissing and nipping softly there.
Summer cried out with pleasure, but then she took his face in both of her
hands, pulled him face to face with her again.
“You know I can’t take all that teasing,” she said. “I need
you now. You promised.” She pouted. It was a sweet, sexy, come- kiss- and-
make- up pout and he could not resist the urge to kiss those lips. She smiled
at the kiss, but her eyes demanded more. He had promised to fuck her good, and
he wasn’t about to go back on that promise. He tugged his jeans off, threw them
onto the floor with the blouse and climbed onto the bed next to Summer. Her
body was warm and she slid closer to him. He took her in his arms, held her to
him. It was good just to hold her like this.
But he wasn’t about to forget that promise. He moved to turn
her over, wanting to pin her to the bed, but she shoved him away. “What?” he
asked, even more puzzled now. “Let me ride you, baby,” she said. She didn’t
wait for a reply. She pulled him off the bed and down to the floor. “Lay back,”
she said, her voice was soothing, calming. He laid back and calmly closed his
eyes. Tried his best to relax. Waiting for her to make the next move, waiting
as patiently as he could for her to join him.
But instead, the lights went out. Not in the house, but for
Mykael. He’d remembered feeling her standing over him, then. He opened his
eyes, expecting a kiss, but all he could focus on at that moment was her eyes.
She looked like a wild woman, then, and not at all like his lovely wife. He
tried to sit up, ask her what was wrong but he didn’t get the chance.
With a strength you’d never guess judging by her small size,
Summer hoisted the heavy wing chair up, brought it crashing down on his head,
clonking him a good one, hard enough to knock him out. Perhaps meant to do
more, Mykael didn’t know. He wondered after that, and to this day, just what
kind of a woman would do that?
When he woke up in the hospital, he discovered he’d had to have
fourteen stitches in his forehead to sew up the damage his beloved wife had
done. She’d taken off in the Ferrari again after clonking him. Fortunately for
Mykael, old Mrs. Kinney next door had heard the noise and looked out her
window to see what was going on. When she saw Summer leave alone, at that time
of night, and in such a big huff, she figured she ought to call and report it.
Mrs. Kinney, who had to have been at least eighty two years young, but still
had perfect sight and hearing, might have saved his life that night, Mykael
thought, with awe. He got the heebie jeebies for a moment, thinking just how
close to dying he’d come. If he’d have lain there bleeding for long, he knew he
would have died if he had not woken up in time. Would Summer have come back?
And if she had, would it have been to help him? He pondered that thought during
the hours to come. He wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t about to go back to the house
to find out.
The police arrested his lovely wife, of course. The police
department in Mykael’s district are all A1 officers, plus, Mykael was something
of a celebrity. They didn’t have that many millionaires in this neck of the
woods, so they were more than happy to put a few extra men and women on the
job. Catching her was the easy part.
She got a good lawyer, the best Mykael’s money could buy her.
She’d apparently socked away enough of it over the years. She must have had
herself a nice little nest egg set back for just such occasions. So, she got
simple assault and not aggravated assault as they could not prove she’d
intended to kill Mykael. Even he was not certain whether she’d really meant to
kill him. It sure seemed that way, but he figured he might be just a little bit
prejudiced about it all. Apparent attempts on your life could have a way of
doing that. Maybe her lawyer was right.
Regardless, of the speed and ease with which she’d been
caught, they couldn’t hold Summer for long. Her lawyer had seen to that. Her
short sentence was a joke, not even much of a slap on the hands, but at least
they’d tried, Mykael supposed. It was a first offense, after all. Sometimes it
only takes one offense to do the job, though, Mykael thought, but he didn’t
make the laws. He was only a victim of them, like all the others out there.
She got a short stint in a nice minimum security place, one
which would have made homeless people beg to get in for the gourmet meals alone.
Her time would have been up next week, but that must not have been soon enough
for Summer. The detective in charge of the case, Lieutenant Bob Hopkins, gave Mykael
a courtesy call this morning, just as Mykael was dumping rice krispies into a
bowl for his breakfast and brewing his morning coffee. He hadn’t even gotten to
drink a cup yet.
Officer Hopkins said that Summer had escaped last night and for
Mykael to keep an eye out just in case she decided to come home. Apparently
she’d charmed one of the newer night guards, and they’d found his body this
morning at shift change. Killed with his own service pistol. Not a pretty picture
before breakfast. Mykael didn’t even know Summer knew how to shoot a gun. Then
again, there was a lot he apparently didn’t know about his beautiful wife.
The entire force was thoroughly embarrassed by the officer’s
ineptitude, of course, and the officer who’d called assured me that the police
now had everything under control and would find Summer quickly. They already
had men watching my house, he said. It was just a matter of time. They’d have
her if she came anywhere near my house or my office. I was completely safe, he
said. All that might have actually made me feel safer had I not known that
Summer had taken out one of their men already.
Late that night Mykael’s active imagination warred against
his exhaustion, keeping him up way past his normal bedtime of eleven P.M. He
knew the officers were still guarding his house but that didn’t do much to
alleviate his fears. In his imagination every branch he heard scrape against
the window was her nails scratching against the glass, every creak the house
made as it settled was a stealthy footstep. Summer was no longer his loving
wife, but some deranged lunatic creeping out of the shadows to finish him this
time. All he could see was her eyes, they glowed bright and with a lunatic fire
in them. That much had been real, at least. He remembered the look in her eyes that
night when he’d opened his eyes and found her standing over him. He felt fear
work its icy fingers along his spine, digging in.
The clock numbers glowing red on the nightstand next to
Mykael’s bed told him it was 1:14 am. He had to get to sleep, he was going in
to work in the morning, after all. He was not going to let Summer keep him from
doing what he did best. His work was all he had left now that he didn’t have
her. He’d dug into it, holding on for dear life as soon as he’d gotten out of
the hospital and been able to return. It was what had kept him sane all these
months.
He shut his eyes tight and willed himself to sleep. Finally
his exhaustion kicked in enough and won the war. He was out like a light only
to be awoken again, in what seemed like only moments. The clock now said 3:17
so Mykael knew he must have slept. It had been hours, not moments, but Mykael
was not any more rested. His nerves were shot but he crept out of the bed,
determined to find out the source of the noise.
The sound that had awoken him had been a soft clinking noise.
It had sounded like the turn of a key in the door turning, and he belatedly
remembered the spare key he kept in the flower pot. An unsafe habit he’d
inherited from his mother who had been a trusting soul. He’d lived in a small
town and no one had messed with him before, besides, when Summer locked herself
out it had come in handy more than once. But now, it sounded like the dumbest
thing he’d ever done. Forgetting it was there, was even dumber, but he’d been
under a lot of pressure lately.
Mykael decided the noise must have been his imagination,
though. There was no way a key could have turned in the door. If it had, he
wouldn’t have heard it, not from his bedroom. There was no way. Sometimes Mykael
hated his active imagination . He wondered why he hadn’t been a writer instead.
He slipped out of bed and peered through the gauzy curtain without opening it.
He could see the unmarked van parked there which was, he knew, manned by two of
Lieutenant Hopkin’s finest officers. The thought calmed him a little. He
slipped into his pajama pants, though, determined to check it out anyway. He
was not going to be a victim any more.
Just as Mykael was slipping his feet into his slippers he
heard footsteps in the hallway. Light, stealthy…feminine? They were coming this
direction. The Master bedroom was the only room down this hall so, if this was
not his imagination again, Mykael was sure who it was and that she was coming
for him. He shook his head, wondering if he’d heard correctly or if he was
dreaming. He prayed that he was just dreaming, but it all felt too real to be a
dream.
With no escape and no where else to retreat, Mykeal stepped
into the bathroom, hoping for the element of surprise that might safe him, at
least. He grabbed his Louisville slugger from beside the bed and grasped it
tight. The feel of the hard wood in his hands comforted him a little. It
stopped the shaking at least.
Mykael stepped quietly into the shower, pulled the curtain
closed behind him and did the only thing he could do. He waited.
After what seemed like an eternity, Mykael blew out his
breath which he had been, unconsciously holding, waiting. He took in a deep
breath and tried to relax. Maybe he had imagined it all. Maybe he was dreaming
after all. Maybe he was going to feel mighty silly in the morning when he woke
up safe in his bed. He hoped so.
He waited for maybe fifteen minutes longer, he hadn’t worn a
watch, so there was really no way for him to judge time accurately, but it had
to have been at least that long. Mykael was just about ready to go out and take
a look around, sure that his mind had surely been playing tricks on him after
all. He grasped the bat tight, though, for security and slid the curtain ever
so slightly to the side allowing him about a half an inch view of the bathroom
which was still dark.
He could see nothing. Then the bedroom door flew open hard
enough to hit the wall with a bang. That was going to crack the plaster, he
thought, irrationally. Why would he worry about the wall now, he didn’t know.
The stupid things you think of when you’re wired to the max. He waited for the
light to come on but it didn’t. Instead the room grew darker and he realized it
was shadow as someone entered slowly. The form was like an indoor lunar
eclipse blocking out the weak moonlight showing from the bedroom window.
Mykeal saw a gleam then, the glint of a large butcher’s
knife as it came into view. He saw figure in a trench coat, a delicate hand
come into view. He didn’t want to see more, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t
want to move, his feet felt frozen there to the floor of the shower. He waited
silently until the figure came close enough and then, unwilling to be a victim
anymore, he swung with all his power.
It’s a home run. There is a sickening meaty crack of the bat
hitting her head, and Mykael was no longer afraid. He was still not sure if he
was dreaming or not but when the blood splattered the wall and poured out onto
the floor he was pretty sure he was not dreaming. “Consider this a divorce,
baby.” Mykael screamed at her, and then he threw the bat down in disgust. She’d
had it coming, he knew. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt now, that she’d
intended to kill him, that she would have if she could have, but he was still
ashamed of what he’d had to do. She was his wife, after all. Had been his wife.
Tears poured down his face now. He still loved her. He felt like a moron for
loving her, but he couldn’t help it. He knelt, then, lifted her to him, turned
the blood covered face to him, needing to see her face once again but sick with
fear over what he’d done. What he’d
had
to do, he reminded himself, but
the thought didn’t make him feel any better.
Her hair was brown, not her normal blonde and it was short
and cut in a shaggy cut that was now soaked and black looking in the dark room
with all the blood covering it. He knew she was dead. He didn’t want to see her
like this. Couldn’t stand to see her like this. Unable to stop himself, he
flipped on the light switch by the door and saw a young man. Where was Summer?
The footsteps came again, and she was there, blonde still
and beautiful as a Summer’s day as always. Mykael stared in shock. When he
could move again, he dropped the young man’s dead body back to the floor and
tried to stand up. He tried to grab for the bat at the same time, but it had
rolled too far away and Summer was too close now. Gazing down on him, she
kicked it even further away, before he even had a chance to grab it. His hand
swiped empty floor and she stomped her food down on it, hard, mashing it with
her heel until he yelled. She kicked him then, a hard kick to the ribs that
might have broken something. It felt like it, anyway.
“You
had
to kill my boyfriend, didn’t you?” she
grinned at him. “I never figured you to be the jealous type.” She sounded more
amused than angry. She shrugged. “ I guess I’ll just have to get another one,”
she smiled. Then he saw the gleam of steel again. Summer had her own knife and
it was even more wicked looking. Mykeal turned to face her at the last minute,
looked past the knife and all he saw was her eyes, glowing like fire, just like
they did before. All he saw was those eyes. Saw those lips he’d kissed a
thousand times and had hoped to kiss again. Saw the beautiful face he’d loved
till death do they part. He barely felt the cold steel as it cut like fire through
his wind pipe, his lifeblood rushing out then in hot rapid pulses.
How could she do this? He wondered. His mind, still
working, fought to make sense of it all until the very end. How could she do
this, his mind demanded to know, he
loved
her?