My Husband, My Stalker - Jessa Kane Page 0,14

eye on the parking garage where my target is having a clandestine meeting with his business partner’s wife, I can’t help but replay what happened in the kitchen when I got home from “work.” I walked in with the intention of slowly unraveling her secrets, but I went a little too fast. I have to be more careful with how I respond to the information I get from her therapy sessions or she’ll get suspicious.

I look down at my automatic, long-range rifle and worry twists sharply in my chest.

She would leave me if she knew.

She would leave me.

Anxiety rears up and threatens to make me dizzy, but I breathe through my nose and find my balance. I’m starting to wonder if lying to Jolie like this was the worst move possible. She’s smart. She will eventually realize I’m leaving in the middle of the night, question where I’m going. She will eventually ask to meet co-workers and attend Christmas parties. And Jesus, she deserves better than a man who lies about his identity, his job. Spies on her. Follows her.

Listens to the private thoughts she speaks aloud.

What if I’m no better than the man who kidnapped her?

What if…she should be scared of me?

I am obsessed beyond measure. My every waking thought is about her. But if she were to find out the truth, would she understand the love is real? This connection between us cannot just be the delusions of a sick mind. She feels it, too. Before I even opened my mouth to let out a lie, we looked at each other and experienced the undercurrents. Much of my identity might be fake, but the fact that I would die for her is not.

I’m distracted when my target walks out of the building, his jacket over one arm, tie askew. He paces to his parked car, sending only a satisfied smile at the woman who emerges from the parking garage behind him. I don’t give him a chance to reach for his door handle, firing a single bullet through his temple and watching him crumple to the ground.

A female scream hangs in the air, but I pay it no attention, escaping into the shadows at the edge of the roof and melting down the back fire escape. Dropping soundlessly into the alley. I get into my car and calmly exit the alley, turning down the side street.

What…

What is the odd prick in my throat?

I don’t know why, but I’m thinking about the woman screaming.

The affectionate way the dead man looked at her before I killed him.

I take a hand off the steering wheel to rub at the spot. For some reason, I’m not feeling as detached as I usually do after a hit. Am I beginning to develop a conscience?

Troubled by that thought, I press my foot more firmly on the gas, positive I will feel better once I’m back in bed with Jolie. She cures me, makes me whole. I’m all but sweating by the time our house comes into view, throwing the car into park and spilling out into the garage. I don’t like coming home to her after a hit. I never have, but it feels worse now, because this love…it’s making me more and more human.

I make it to the bedroom and finally, finally, feel like I can take a deep breath. There she is. My wife. Nude. Covered in love marks from my mouth. Curled onto her side, hugging a pillow. Safe. Breathing. My evil deed didn’t kill the only positive thing in my life. She’s still here.

Letting out a shuddering exhale, I fall into a chair beside the bed, tilting my head to look at the lithe, sensual length of her. I should be stripping off my clothes and getting back into bed before she realizes I’ve been out, but I can’t seem to move. Can’t do anything but be arrested by the beauty of my Jolie. Daddy, she calls me. Daddy. Daddy.

Before I even know what I’m about, I’m yanking down my zipper and fucking my hand, lips peeled back in a wince, my balls so high and tight, I’m probably going to go off in seconds. I stand and walk toward the bed, looking down at the slightly parted crack of her ass and I swallow a groan, semen beading at the tip of my cock.

I’m almost busting when she stirs, humming a little in her throat and rolling over onto her back, yawning. I can’t let her see me like