Page 88 of Madden
“Now look what you did,” she retorts. “You’re constantly destroying everything. You had to go and try to call Madden in hopes he’d come in on his white horse and save you. What does he even see in you anyway? You look like an uptight little bitch. Like you could possibly know anything about what a man like him wants, what a man like him needs.”
I swallow hard, shaking my head.
I don’t know how to answer it because, truthfully, I have no idea what he sees in me.
“We need to hurry up,” the man says, stalking across the room. He pulls the curtains away from the window, peering outside, before turning back toward us. “They know we’re here, and they’re gonna call the cops. It’s only a matter of time before they arrive.”
“Goddammit.” She grits her teeth and shakes her head.
“Go back into his office and try again. There’s gotta be a way to get in there. I know it’s where he keeps everything locked up.”
“We don’t have enough time, Hanna. That’s what I’m fuckin’ telling you.” His voice turns sinister, angry.
They’re backed into a corner, and there’s no way to tell how they’ll react.
Hanna paces back and forth in the kitchen. She stops, turning to rest her hands against the edge of the counter. Her head sags between her shoulders in defeat.
“What do you need, Hanna? Is it money? I promise you I have more than enough money if that’s what you need. I’ll write you a check right now. You can take it and go, and I promise we’ll keep it between us.”
She lifts her head, her eyes locking on the bouquet Madden surprised me with this morning after telling me he loved me last night.
I grit my teeth, knowing it doesn’t matter what I say now when she grabs the card and turns back toward me.
“Friends, huh?”
I clench my jaw when she holds the card up, pointing at the handwritten message.
“You think I’m going to believe a damn word you say to me when you can’t even be honest about your relationship?”
A voice comes over the walkie-talkie. “We’ve got blues comin’ in hot a mile away. You need to get out of there. You hear me? You need to get out.”
The man lifts the walkie-talkie, presses the button, and mutters, “10-4,” before turning back to us.
“I told you, Hanna, we gotta get going.”
She flares her nostrils while staring at me and shakes her head.
“All right, I’m right behind you,” she mutters as he crosses through the kitchen into the entryway.
She shakes her head, pretending to follow him when she reaches for the vase. I don’t even see it coming at first. The flowers spilling onto the floor catches me off guard before I have a chance to lift my hand in an attempt to block her.
When the bottom of the vase slams against my head, all I picture is Madden’s face when he walks through the door before everything goes black.