Simon Says Die

ring.”
    â€œHe’s your best friend. How can you ruin his honeymoon?” She dug her nails into her palms. If Logan knew what was really going on, he’d feel it was his duty to help her, to fix things. It was too late to fix things. If he even suspected what she thought was going on, and that she was determined to take care of this on her own, he’d try to stop her. She couldn’t let that happen.
    â€œTwo rings.”
    â€œThat man was just some crazy vagrant, a homeless guy.” She shoved her hair behind her ears. “I’m sure he won’t be back.”
    â€œA homeless guy, with brand-new sneakers, and an expensive Sig Sauer 9mm pistol.” Pierce shook his head. “Nope. Not buying it. Three rings.”
    What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t tell him the truth. But she couldn’t let him involve her brother either. “Hang up the phone.”
    â€œFour rings.”
    Panic flooded through her. She’d have to tell him who the shooter was. She’d just have to figure out later how to keep him from figuring out the rest. “Fine, you win. I’ll tell you who he is. Hang up.”
    â€œNot without a name.”
    She heard the sound of a voice coming from the phone—Logan’s voice.
    â€œHey, man,” Pierce said into the phone. “Sorry to wake you, but I knew you were worried about your sister. I checked on her like you asked.”
    Madison shoved Pierce’s arm, pushing the phone away from his mouth. She reached her arms up behind his neck and tugged him down so she could put her mouth next to his ear. She whispered a vile name she’d hoped never to pass her lips again.
    His eyes widened. He stared down at her and slowly put the phone back to his ear. “No. Everything is fine. I just wanted to let you know she’s okay. Kiss Amanda for me. Gotta go.” He ended the call and lowered his phone. “Tell me again.”
    â€œYou heard me. The man who shot you is Damon . . . Damon McKinley. My dead husband.”

 
    Chapter Three
    M ADISON SAT IN the passenger seat of Pierce’s vintage, dark blue muscle car, methodically considering different ways to torture him. She shoved at the handcuffs he’d snapped on her wrists at the cemetery, before carting her off like a prisoner. The man was determined to keep her with him—with, or without, her consent.
    By the time Pierce pulled into his garage, in a cookie-cutter subdivision Madison would never have pictured him in, Madison had gone from furious to seething.
    Pierce opened the passenger door and squatted in the opening to unlock the cuffs.
    â€œBehave,” he warned, as he took them off. He twisted away just in time to avoid her fist.
    She rubbed her wrists and climbed out of the car, ready to give him hell. But her anger drained away when she saw the bloodstains on his white shirt.
    â€œYou’re bleeding.” She stepped toward him, her hands outstretched.
    He jerked away. “Uh-uh. After hearing your plans for vengeance the whole ride here, I’m not letting you get that close.”
    â€œI didn’t think you were listening.”
    â€œYou were hard to ignore.”
    â€œYou want to bleed to death, fine. Your choice.” She turned around and leaned into the back seat to grab her purse. She let out a surprised yelp when he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her out of the car.
    â€œLeave it. You can get it later.” He unlocked the door between the garage and the house, flipped on a light, then stepped back to allow her to precede him. “After you.”
    â€œYou’re just afraid I’ll shoot you.” He’d taken her Colt .380 out of her jacket pocket at the cemetery and had tossed it into the back seat, along with her purse.
    â€œYou’re right. Getting shot twice in one day is not something I want to add to my list of pathetic experiences.”
    She paused. “Pathetic?”
    â€œNever mind.”
    She moved past him through the kitchen, which was open to the family room beyond. She stopped beside a white leather couch, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the less-than-inspired neutral color palate.
    â€œEither come with me into the bedroom while I change my shirt, or keep talking so I know you aren’t running off.” Pierce disappeared through a set of double doors beside the fireplace.
    Heat spiked through Madison at the idea of following him into the bedroom.