Arlo stepped closer to the table. “Don’t fight me, Josh. We’ll get this worked out. But you’re going to have to surrender yourself to Metro. It’s time for you to come with me.”
Josh looked frantically from Aubrey to Arlo. “This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. You turned me in? Oh, my God, Aubrey. How could you?”
How could you, how could you, how could you?
She felt the tearing of her soul, the rage spilling into her bloodstream.
“How could I? You son of a bitch! You left me here all alone. You lied to me. You promised!”
The dam broke, and she launched at him, fists meeting his face, the fury of the past five years unleashing at last. Her voice was a wail, and her emotions, unchecked at last, allowed the words to come out. She couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop herself; she was screaming them, over and over and over, sobs wrenching from her as she pounded her clenched hands against his chest.
She screamed until Arlo wrapped his arms around her and dragged her forcibly from the restaurant. Screamed until the men came to take her away, and shoved the needle into her arm with the sedative, and even then, as she faded into the darkness, she couldn’t stop.
“We had a deal, Josh. We had a deal. We had a deal. We had a deal.”
CHAPTER 70
Josh and Aubrey
Five Years Ago
Josh paced the living room. He had no choice; he couldn’t do this himself. It would take time, and coordination, and he’d looked at every angle, every option, and there was nothing to be done for it. Aubrey would need to be involved.
Would she go for it? Or would she take a knife to his balls in the middle of the night? He really didn’t know for sure.
He straightened at the sound of the garage door, the gorgeous specialty doors that looked like the front of a barn, stained a dark brown to match the front door and the stone face of the house. She’d taken the Audi to Whole Foods, would be laden down with bags of healthy food.
He needed a drink.
He went to the wet bar in the corner, poured a Scotch, drank it down. Liquid courage.
His wife’s voice, sugar and light. “Hon, are you here?”
“In the living room,” he called.
She came in with a smile on her face, holding a sheaf of paper. “Did you see this? Can you believe it? They screwed up the insurance, your mom’s name isn’t on it. They put me down as beneficiary. Daisy is going to shit herself when she realizes.”
“Aubrey, honey. Come here. Sit down. We need to talk.”
The smile fled. The gravity of his tone was no comfort; he couldn’t help it. There was simply no good way to broach the subject, so he rushed in. He reached for her hand, caught it.
“The bank didn’t make a mistake. I made you the beneficiary.”
“What? Why?”
He took a deep, steadying breath. “You’re going to be furious with me, but I need your help. I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake.”
He felt rather than saw her withdraw, her whole psyche pulling away from him. Then she carefully extricated her hand from his and drew her arms across her chest, to protect herself, to shield herself from him. The motion made him sick to his stomach. Her hair was wildly curly today—rain must be coming.
He choked back a sob. How was he going to do this? How was he going to forfeit the woman he loved, the life he’d fought for? Even something as simple as knowing the weather by the state of his wife’s hair . . . He bit his lip, hard, pushing back his emotions. There was no other way.
He gestured toward the sofa, and after a moment’s pause, Aubrey sat, curling her feet under her.
He sat on the opposite end. “I need your help.”
“What is this about, Josh? Are we in trouble?”
We. Thank God in heaven, she said we.
The story came out, from the start, each word bitter, each moment agony. She listened, pale, a hand to her throat. Toward the end, she’d compulsively scratched at her neck, and there were streaks of red lighting up the tender skin.
When he finished, he felt light, giddy. She hadn’t slapped him or walked out, not even when he told her about the photos, about how he’d cheated on her.
She sat, still as stone, processing. He didn’t push; he knew her well enough to know she needed time to adjust to her new reality.
That her husband was a criminal, a cheat, and a liar who needed her to help him disappear.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Aubrey. I know how badly I’ve fucked up.”
“You could kill yourself. Save us a lot of trouble.” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear her.
“I’ve thought about it.”
She looked up, eyes on fire. “Don’t you dare. That’s the coward’s way out. We’ll . . . We’ll figure something out. Right now, I need you to leave. I need some space.”
He didn’t argue, didn’t try to kiss her. He grabbed Winston’s lead, snapped it on the dog, and took a walk.
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