Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,36
as his mother.
And he couldn’t let that happen.
He yanked out his cell.
She either had to quit—not a choice she appeared inclined to make—or the job had to go away. Especially after tonight. Working late wasn’t acceptable . . . even if he’d only arrived home ten minutes ago himself.
Finger poised to jab in her speed dial number, he paused as headlights appeared at the end of the street.
Fifteen seconds later, a car swung into the narrow access lane beside their house.
Finally.
Shoving the cell back in his pocket, he stomped into the kitchen, positioned himself a few feet from the back door, and crossed his arms. It wouldn’t take her long to appear. Since the single-car attached garage was his, she always parked in the alley behind the house.
Two minutes later, the door opened.
She halted as soon as she saw him. Offered a tentative smile.
He didn’t return it.
“Hi, hon. Sorry I’m late.” She closed the door but waited inside—as if she was uncertain of her welcome.
“It’s after nine.”
“I know. I texted you about what happened at work. Didn’t you get my message?”
“I got it—and I didn’t like it. Your salary doesn’t justify working long hours.”
“Doug said they’d add overtime pay to my check, given the unusual circumstances.” She eased into the room and deposited her purse on the counter. “How was bowling?”
“I don’t want to talk about bowling.” He moved toward her.
A flicker of fear flared in her eyes . . . as if she was worried he might hit her.
Good.
He wanted her submissive and compliant. That’s how a wife—a woman—should be.
But physical violence wasn’t necessary. There were much more effective ways to exert control, as he’d learned from his dad.
However . . . they only worked if you kept a woman isolated and dependent.
That’s why Meg’s job had to go—sooner rather than later.
He stopped in front of her, lifted a hand as she watched him with trepidation . . . and stroked his fingers down her cheek. “I’m worried about you, babe. The situation at that station is dangerous.”
“N-not for me.”
After a few beats, he motioned to the kitchen table. “Let’s sit.”
She hesitated—but when he pulled out a chair and waited, she slid onto it.
“Today was unusual, Steve.” She leaned toward him as soon as he was seated, posture taut, twin furrows creasing her brow. “Like I told you in the text, after that call came in, the station was in a frenzy. They wanted me to monitor the reaction on social media. I could have stayed until midnight, but Doug insisted I come home.”
“Does that mean you’ll have to work late tomorrow night too?”
She shifted in her seat. “I don’t know. Until we get past this craziness, everyone’s schedule is thrown out of whack—but it can’t go on forever. Whoever is causing Eve all this grief will eventually give up.”
“Or she will.”
“No.” The definitive shake of Meg’s head left no room for argument. “She’s not a quitter.”
“Maybe she won’t have a choice. After today, her audience could desert her.”
“In light of all the support she’s receiving on social media, I don’t think that will happen.”
Neither did he, after reading a fair sampling of the comments on her blog. Near as he could tell, they were running 90 percent in her favor.
“Then you should think about resigning.”
“Steve.” She reached for his hand, her demeanor beseeching. “I enjoy the job, and I’d like to stick with it awhile. The long hours won’t last. But I know you’re concerned. So why don’t we compromise? After we get past the current crisis, I could ask Doug if he’d let me work through lunch. That would get me out of there an hour earlier, and I could have supper underway before you get home.”
“Until the next crisis hits.”
“I’m not expecting anything else like this to come up in the foreseeable future.”
“But it could.” He pulled his hand free of her cold fingers. “I think you have to decide which is more important—your job or our marriage. Didn’t we agree you’d be a stay-at-home wife?”
“Yes.” She linked her fingers into a tight knot on the table. “I just didn’t realize how lonely I’d be here all day by myself. My old job wasn’t great, but I liked the social interaction. It would be different if I had a child to care for, but with all the complications from the miscarriage, that may never happen.” A sheen appeared in her eyes.
“I talked to the doctor. He didn’t rule out the possibility of you getting pregnant.”