The Good Bad Girl

Chapter 2 Protective Husband on Duty

Another message. 

This was the third time my beautiful wife left a message for me in someone's body. I went inside Marshal Smith's house. The small cottage in the dead of the neighborhood reeks of copper and metal. 

It isn't until I reach the living room that the smell becomes even more clear. I nod at Luca to clean the place for any fingerprints and look for minute details that she might have left. Not that she didn't, her work is slate clean. That's my girl. 

I head down to the basement from where the smell is coming, and I am immediately greeted by another one of her tortured surprises. Marshal Smith's body was hanging right in the middle of the creaky basement. 

Crimson was painted on the floor as his heavy body lunged with the help of a rope around his neck. His face was lifeless obviously, but marks of torture were written all over him. Right from the cut near his sternum to little slits she made on both his forearms. Not forgetting the missing four fingers that have become quite her signature in the underworld.  

I will instantly recognize this work of art is done by my beloved wife if not, her threatening letter behind the wall written in blood will do. 

Three down, dear husband. 

A laugh curled in my throat when I saw the efforts she poured on the word Husband. Despite, the fact that she thinks we're divorced her calling me her husband feels good. It means I am inside her head. 

And that's all I want before I reclaim her as mine. But right now, I need to clean this mess before the authorities or the fucker's wife comes. Luca has already handled his wife. She is sedated and currently unconscious in the four walls of her corner office desk. By the time, she wakes up and heads home thinking she slept after pulling a late night at work, I will be done with Marshal's body. 

For the next hour, my crew cleans the entire house leaving no trails of my wife behind. They dump the old fucker's body inside the van's trunk and covered it with dead raccoons. They sprayed alcohol and hydrogen peroxide all over the place to remove blood stains and fingerprints.

Meanwhile, I check the old pictures of Marshal's living room on my phone and try to put together the scene without making any odd changes. The pillow was kept diagonally on the couch. Bedroom sheets on the floor. Empty beer cans on the coffee table and rerun an episode of Magic Wheel on mute. 

I recreated last night's scene as precisely as I could before the murder happened. My boys are already waiting outside with a home spray of jasmine. It's the same spray Marshal uses in his house. 

I sprayed the living room with it before doing the same upstairs. Pride shone on me when I looked around the place. No one can tell a murder happened here. The space was spotless and mildly dirty to give a look of a used house. 

There, I cleaned my wife's murder. No one will suspect anything. If they did, I am going to make sure hell knocks on the door of those who try to go after her. 

As I walked down the stairs, I pulled a piece of handwritten letter from inside my coat. I made Marshal and the rest of the committee members write a getaway letter explaining the reason for their future disappearance. They weren't thrilled about the probability that someone is out there hunting each of them, they even showed their displeasure at me for not finding the killer which ended up with a bullet on Luther King's knee and a blade in Jean Kurlen's stomach.

A gift for those who think they can order me around. Luther and Jean are in good shape now that I have reminded them of their place. No one will ask questions they don't want answers to.

That being said, I take a quick look at the place and leave the note by the counter. I stroke the ink with the back of my covered hands, a dimple forming on my cheek before exiting. 

If someone had told me, my marriage would be anything but this, cleaning after my wife's mess I would've laughed. It was never my intention to get married much less clean my wife's murders but it's becoming a tradition now. 

She kills and I clean. 

Well, I do more than that. I make sure her whereabouts are kept hidden. I cover her trails and provide her alibis and witnesses. I even create fake victim letters to give last words to the family so they don't approach cops and so far I've done a good job as a husband.

When I get inside my car, I signal Cash to handle the CCTVs around the area. I know Olivia had taken care of it but just to be on the safe side. I don't want anything happening to her. 

I may not stop her from killing, nor I can stop the sudden flame of rumors of a might-be serial killer. What I can actually do is protect her. 

Nobody knows who the killer is. Not even my team. It's only me who knows about her hidden obsession with revenge and I'd be lying if I say I am not turned on. 

From the moment, I have seen her. She has taken such space in my head that it's almost difficult to get her out. Not that I want to but being in a marriage where you haven't seen or touched your wife at all is fucking maddening. 

I want her so bad that I am stupid enough to follow her threats. She knows I clean her murders because like her I also leave messages. Without knowing, we both fall into this communication with each other where she leaves me death threats and I leave my hard dick with her picture on it. 

Letting her see how hard she makes me. 

Olivia and I may not have a normal marriage but she is mine. From the moment, I saw her in the courthouse signing her name on the marriage certificate to slipping the diamond ring on her ring finger. She was mine, no matter what our feelings may be. 

I know for a fact we have different feelings for each other. Her hatred for me and my possessiveness for her. It's both poisonous and deadly. A mixture nobody wanted but got the moment she promised to crown my name with hers and vow to be with me till death, she had willingly entered a realm where I was her God and she was my temptation. 

Mine to be sinned, 

Mine to be protected. 

Olivia Asher Hill.

I had taken a vow to protect you and I will do so until my last breath. Till then, you're each threat, your every murder hooks us one step closer to each other.

And baby, when we meet each other. I am gonna fuck your brains out. 

For every word you use to address me, I will show you exactly what I am.