Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(92)

She flashes that alluring smile. “Surprise him with a tattoo. I know a great tattoo shop in Bend.”

I begged for the darkness to swallow up the pain and it listened, wrapping me in a cold embrace.

“Tell me who the father is,” that voice—full of anger and hatred—demands.

My baby. What’s going to happen to my baby? Panic ignites, somewhere deep inside me.

“Tell me!”

My mouth moves to form the words; the same words I’ve said over and over again. A chant. “Just some guy.”

I feel pressure seizing my chin and cigarette smoke wafts closer. “Who is he?”

“Just some guy . . .”

“Come on . . . Did you really think I would let some guy f**k my wife and get away with it?” The glint of a blade flashes.

“Just some guy . . . bar . . . just some guy . . . bar . . . just some guy . . . bar . . .” I whisper. I won’t give in. I won’t give him a name. The tip of the blade pierces my skin at the temple. I’m too weak to scream, even as I feel it slowly tearing into my face, the agony bringing tears to my eyes. I won’t tell, I won’t let anyone hurt him—

“Wake up!”

My eyes snap open to find Jesse’s face hovering over me, his hands on my shoulders, shaking me hard.

I’m gasping for air.

“You’re with me. Jesse. You’re safe.” He smooths his hands over my face, wiping away tears that must have sprung in my sleep. A worried frown mars his beautiful features. “You kept saying—”

“ ‘Just some guy,’ ” I whisper through ragged breaths. “I think I just had a flashback.”

Jesse’s jaw clenches. “What was it?”

I shake my head slowly, desperately trying to grab on to the bits before they slip back into oblivion. “A voice. And a smell. Cigarettes. He kept asking me for a name.” I reach up and touch my scar. “He wanted a name. He cut me because I wouldn’t give it to him.” Burying my face in Jesse’s bare chest, I inhale deeply, trying to rid myself of the acrid tobacco smoke that still somehow taints my subconscious.

Did you really think I would let some guy f**k my wife and get away with it?

I gasp. “I’m married. My husband did this to me.” I push away from Jesse but he grabs hold of my hands.

“Do you remember why?”

Why?

Why?

Why would my husband do this to me?

Tell me who the father is.

“Oh my God.” My stomach tightens. “Because it wasn’t his baby. I wouldn’t tell him whose it was.”

Dr. Weimer was right. I had an affair.

Jesse’s hands around mine slacken. Even in the pre-dawn light, I can see the deep frown. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” My palms find their way to my empty abdomen, a longing ache spreading through my chest. Somehow, I’m sure.

Jesse scoops me into his arms and lets me sob against his chest. But I feel the growing tension in his body. When I hazard a glance at his face, I find him glowering at the ceiling.

What must he think of me?

THIRTY-THREE

Jesse

then

I barely hear the trance music this time, though its steady beat throbs in my chest.

I haven’t been back here in almost two months. The only reason I’m here now is because it’s New Year’s Eve and Boone said Viktor would be here.

I’m praying that means Alex is, too.

Boone hands me a drink, which I have no intention of touching. I need my wits about me, or I’m liable to do something stupid. Like kiss Viktor’s wife in front of him.

We cut through the thick crowd of drunk, rich ass**les, and I narrowly avoid a martini on the shirt and pants I bought for tonight. At first I felt like a chump at the store, but now that I’m seconds away from seeing Alex again, I’m happy I bought the tailored outfit.

Except, she’s not here.

I take in the table, spilling over with the usual guys and a few new ones, plus a slew of young, pretty girls, some of whom may very well be paid escorts. Priscilla is in the mix, attached to Viktor’s side, his arm draped over her shoulder, his thumb absently grazing the top of her tits that are practically falling out of a plunging neckline. He’s making no attempt to hide his philandering, which makes me think that Alex isn’t due to arrive anytime soon.

But wouldn’t he make her come tonight, of all nights?

Unless he’s bashed her face in again.

“Happy New Year!” Rust stands to pat his nephew’s back as if he hasn’t seen him in months, though Boone’s been out with him almost every night lately. I have a feeling Miller will be out of a job come spring. “Jesse!” He offers me his hand.

I put up with two minutes of small talk before I excuse myself to use the restroom. Really, to text Alex.

I’m at The Cellar. Where are you?

She hasn’t returned the three texts that I sent her since the night at the restaurant. This time, though, she answers almost immediately.

I’m not feeling well so I stayed home.

Dread swells.

Did he hit you?

I’m fine, Jesse.

A moment later:

Have a Happy New Year.

Fuck that.

I round the corner and nearly plow into Viktor.

“Jesse.” That snakelike smile greets me. “Where are you off to in a rush?” A slight slur twists his words.