All Chapters of My Husband Married Me For Revenge : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Reid's POVTwo guns came up in the doorway, and I stopped being afraid.I should say that plainly, because it isn't what I expected. I had spent a year afraid. Afraid of the funeral, afraid of the letters, afraid of my own father's face on the ferry road. But when I saw both barrels settle on my wife, something in me went quiet and flat, like a lake after wind.My gun was already on the uncle. Nine feet. I didn't move it."Tell them to lower those," I said."Reid." He sounded almost fond. "You're the one holding a weapon in a boathouse full of people you love. I'd think about who you want pointed at whom.""I'm not asking twice.""You've asked once, and nobody has done anything."Behind me, Audrey's breath hitched. The lantern flame leaned against the envelope, and I could smell the edge of the paper starting to warm."Audrey," I said, without turning. "Keep it where it is.""I am.""Your hand is shaking.""So is the flame."It was an absurd thing to say, and it was the most Audrey th

Reid's POVThe first oar knocked the dock pilings.Wood on wood, soft, like someone setting down a cup. Then another. Daniels had been right. They'd killed the motor out past the point and rowed in the last stretch.Nobody in the boathouse moved.I counted. Two men on the dock with guns. The uncle by the table. Cam at my left shoulder, closer than I wanted him. Audrey with that envelope two inches over the flame, her arm shaking now, not from fear. From the hour she'd been holding it.And the shape in the doorway.Small. Soaked. One hand on the frame."Reid," Audrey said, very low. "Don't.""I'm not doing anything.""You took a step."I looked down. She was right. I'd crossed maybe a foot of floor without deciding to."Back," Cam said."Don't tell me where to stand.""I'm telling you he's watching you." Cam didn't turn his head. "Not her. You."He was right about that too. The uncle hadn't looked at the doorway once. His eyes were on me, patient and a little curious, the way you watch

Reid's POVPaul didn't reach for his cuffs. He reached for his hand.Not to shake it. He let it hang open at his side, the way you do when you're about to ask for something and want it to look like manners."Ma'am," he said to Blair's mother. "I'll need that."She didn't move."It's evidence," Paul said. "It's going to be logged properly. You have my word."Nobody in that room believed a man who'd just said sir to the person we'd all been brought here to stop.I counted again. It's what I do when I can't act yet. Four officers inside, flashlights up, weapons low. Two more on the dock, I could hear them. Tomas on his knees. Cam on his knees. Daniels on his knees, still as furniture, his eyes on the floor. The uncle by the table with his hands visible, smiling.Me, in front of Audrey, hands out.And one envelope, scorched at the corner, in the hands of a woman in a wet coat who had decided somewhere between the lake and this door that she was done."No," Blair's mother said.Paul's jaw

Reid's POVFire moves faster than you think.Everyone says that, and everyone's heard it, and I'd never believed it until I watched the oil run across the boards like something alive. It took maybe a second to reach the hem of her coat. Another to climb.I was already moving.I don't remember crossing the floor. I remember the heat on my face, a flat slap of it, and Blair screaming her mother's name, and the sound the wet wool made as it caught. Blair's mother hadn't dropped the envelope. She had both arms wrapped around it, curled over it like a woman shielding a child from a falling wall."Let go of it!" I shouted."No!""Mrs. Hale, let go!""No!"I grabbed the collar of her coat with both hands and tore it off her shoulders. Buttons hit the floor. The sleeves came off her arms inside out, burning. I threw the whole thing behind me and heard it land against the wall in a burst of sparks.She was still holding the envelope.One edge had gone black. The paper was smoking. But it was t

Reid's POVThey put a blanket on me. I didn't ask for it.It was gray and scratchy and smelled like the inside of a car trunk, and some paramedic with a kind face and cold hands draped it over my shoulders and told me to sit. So I sat. On the tailgate of a state truck, at the edge of a gravel lot, with the boathouse still burning behind me in the dark.It had stopped being a building around three. Now it was just a low orange glow on the water, throwing broken light across the lake. Somebody had killed the floodlights. Somebody else was shouting about a perimeter. The rain had thinned to a fine cold mist that clung to everything and fell on nothing.I counted again, because that's what I do.Four ambulances. Two of them leaving. Eleven agents I could see, more I couldn't. Paul Weller on the far side of the lot with his hands cuffed behind him, sitting on the bumper of a unit that had been his an hour ago, staring at the gravel. Garrity beside him, not guarding him, just standing there