The Divorcee Murder Club

Once ~ 11

There are times when I behave like a vigilante. It’s a quality my mother warns will land me behind bars. But this fate of seeking justice for those too meek to do it themselves was set in motion the day I bashed my stepfather’s head with a baseball bat. 

And yes, he deserved it. 

So, ever since Frankie shared the information she dug up on Richie, I can’t stop thinking about the black eyes he gave Mindy. If Angie knew where I was right now and what I was up to, she’d strangle me with her thighs like an anaconda. The plan was to wait for Reina to contact these mysterious Sisters and get their permission before laying a finger on Richie-boy, but rules are meant to be broken. So, here I am, watching that asshole through his window as I slip on a pair of black leather gloves. 

It’s also why I’m dressed in all black, with camouflage face paint and creeping through the bushes of his backyard. I had to park down the street, hop over a few fences, and avoid a yapping dog, but I made it. For as wealthy as this prick is, I thought he’d live in a fancy sky-rise condo downtown, but lucky for me, Richie lives in a renovated townhouse across from Ocean Beach, delivering easier access to break into his home. 

A mist clings to the night, hiding the moon and providing ample darkness as I scoot along the perimeter, testing the windows. But, standing there in his kitchen is the familiar cascade of dark waves and slender shoulders brushed in a creamy russet hue.

What the fuck is Mindy doing here?

Adjusting my footing on a wilting flower bed, I try to get a better view without being seen. She and Richie are arguing, and he has her cornered against the white marble island. It’s a massive block of counter space and looks ridiculous in the immaculate kitchen with white cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and gray-washed plank flooring. It’s like Martha Stewart threw up in there.

However, his catalog kitchen isn’t what has my neck veins bulging. It’s that Mindy tried walking away, but he tugged her back into him, and now he’s snarling within centimeters from her face. She grimaces and jerks her head back, but he grabs her chin and keeps barking at her. I swear, if he doesn’t cut this shit out, I’m going to Hulk through the window and accidentally get Mindy involved in my plan. 

But I can’t.

So I remain in the shadows, fists clenched and ready to jump if things worsen.

And it does.

It's as if Richie realizes he's not getting anywhere with Mindy by yelling, so he changes his tone. Even his demeanor shifts as the snarl morphs into a smile, and his shoulders relax with a laugh. Being a lip reader isn’t on my resume, but I don’t have to be skilled to recognize an apology. 

“Don’t fall for it.” I clench my fists tighter, and bloody hell. The agitation across Mindy's brow softens, and she bites back a smile.

Delight blooms across Richie's face like the sunrise over a green pasture. It's bright, warm, and full of promise, but that's all it is—empty promise. He knows he’s winning, too, because he rubs her arms and continues sweet talking a laugh out of her. Lord knows what he’s saying, and it must be vomit-inducing, yet Mindy eats it up as she rolls her eyes, grinning. This only encourages him as he trails his hands to her waist with a squeeze, but she playfully shoves him away. 

However, Richie doesn’t allow her to get very far because he reels her in and molds himself to her like a spoon. I bet he loves having his noodle dick pressed against her round ass while whispering in her ear. It’s obvious he’s still apologizing, but what’s worse is Mindy rotates to face him and tosses her head back in a laugh at whatever he’s saying. Then, like a true opportunist, Richie plants a kiss on her gorgeous neck. The neck I would love to suck on and leave my mark with a trashy hickey.