The Perfect Husband by Lisa Gardner Read Free Book Online Page B

with enough force to line his skin. The edge ran against the scar that zigzagged furiously down his sternum. That scar had been inflicted by a man known for his sharp temper, fast hands, and utter lack of remorse. J.T. explored Angela's eyes now to see if she had that in her.
    He wouldn't grant her speed. He wouldn't grant her skill. But in her gaze he found something better: dispassion.
    “Jesus, you are a dangerous woman.”
    “I'm learning.”
    A sound split the air, startling them both. High, shrill. Sirens. Wailing sirens approaching his house. He took a step back.
    His first thought was Marion, but then he noticed his house guest. She'd frozen. And she appeared terrified. Why would the cops frighten a woman running from her husband? Then he knew, absolutely knew, that he'd been used.
    “What have you done?”
    “Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” she muttered.
    The sirens wailed closer. Three cars, he figured. Three police cars pulling into his driveway and shattering his peace.
    “Why are you so afraid? What are you hiding?”
    Her eyes were no longer so certain. She tried to push away, but his grip was too strong.
    “Let me go. I didn't do anything. I just don't want anyone to know I'm here. Especially not the cops.”
    “That shy,
Angela
?”
    “It's not safe. He has contacts—”
    “
He
? Sure, Angela, this omnipotent he. The mystery man who may or may not be stalking you, who may or may not have injured your leg, who may or may not even exist. I am tired of
he
, Angela. You want my help, you'd better do a helluva lot better than that.”
    “I'm not lying! Jim wants me dead. No, he wants me to suffer horribly. I saw the pictures. I saw what he did.…” Her voice trailed off. Then she went wild, beating at him furiously. She tried to jab his shoulder with the porcelain shard, but he deflected the blow, knocking the makeshift weapon from her hand.
    “Let me go,” she cried.
    The sirens came to a screeching halt on his driveway.
    “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Maybe he's already found me.”
    His hands gripped her shoulders, but suddenly he wasn't so sure. Her fear was too genuine, her panic too real. He could feel the tremors beginning now, snaking down her delicate frame.
    “Talk to me, Angela, tell me the truth. Come on.”
    “He was a cop! Don't you get it? He was a cop!”
    He stepped back in shock, automatically letting her go. He was surprised but didn't know why he should be. There was no rule saying cops had to be good guys, just as there was no guarantee that well-respected army colonels didn't torture their families as a hobby.
    Angela moved into the middle of the kitchen. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her thin waist. “I need my gun back. Give me my gun.”
    “I can't do that.”
    “Oh, what are you so afraid of? Do you think I'm going to try to shoot my way out with a peashooter?”
    “A gun won't help you.”
    “It's the only thing that has.” She paced a dizzying circle. “I'm leaving. Tell them what you want. I won't let them see me here. I thought confidentiality meant something in your line of work.”
    “Wait—”
    “I don't have time.” She kept moving.
    They both heard the first of several car doors open and then slam shut.
    Angela didn't turn around. Seconds later he heard the door of her room shut, then the telltale sound of the bolt lock sliding home. He had visions of little Angela flipping over the bed and hunkering behind it like the last man at the Alamo.
    He was left alone in his kitchen, with the disorienting feeling that everything had slid out of control. What if this ex-husband had actually arrived? What was he prepared to do these days? How could he stand aside?
    Then he heard the voice over the bullhorn. His shoulders relaxed. His lips twisted. No big, bad, evil Jim.
    It was just his sister, summoned by Freddie, and riding to the rescue.
    He squared his shoulders and prepared for the real war. Whoever had written that blood was thicker than water,