End With A Bang (Slap/Bang Duet #2)

25. His

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

His

Jason Mark wasn’t stupid.

He knew exactly who his wife was fucking.

But Christ, did he feel stupid for not believing it ‘til now.

The key evidence? After she left, he found Huey in the bedroom, going ham on another clothing label, attached to a torn scrap of a white t-shirt collar (Exhibit A). The label: DIOR Hommes. Jason didn’t speak French, but he knew what that meant. It was menswear. And he sure as shit didn’t wear Dior.

Kara had tried to convince him—hell, even his shrink had suggested it, but he couldn’t even imagine . Ivy was a no-nonsense kind of girl; that was why he liked her so much in the first place. No dark side, no lies, no skeletons in the closet, it was ‘what you see is what you get’ with Ivy Tyler.

Or so he’d believed.

He’d also believed that Ivy was too smart, too savvy, too practical; not reckless or impulsive enough to fall prey to temptation ...or to be a temptation. To him.

Yeah, Jason knew his father liked pretty blondes and respected people who weren’t impressed with him, but that didn’t mean he’d be interested enough—or twisted enough—to try to get Ivy into bed.

He had no idea why he’d given his mother’s murderer the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe he had wished that his father was a good man, deep down. That he was sorry for the terrible things he’d done. That maybe her death was an accident, maybe he did have a heart after all. But this just proved he didn’t.

His mother... God rest her soul, but she was a mess toward the end. A mess that his father made and tidied up without shedding a single goddamn tear.

Sever Mark was a monster, plain and simple. And now this fucking monster had gone and stolen his wife .

The hell if Jason was gonna let Ivy become another one of his messes.

Sitting on the bedroom floor by the upended dresser and a half-empty bottle of Scotch, hands trembling as he held the golden key to a Mark Hotel room (Exhibit B), he made a phone call.

“Kara, it’s me.”

“It’s 4am.”

“You were right. You were right about everything.”

After a silent moment, she sighed. “Come over.”

His anger doubled, tripled in size as he stormed to Kara’s building. The first time he went there, he was surprised she lived so below her means, but it was a rent controlled hand-me-down, it was close to work, and, in her words, it meant she could spend more money on clothes.

“Penthouse suite,” Kara said, turning the keycard over. “It’s got to be.”

He stopped pacing her kitchen floor. “What makes you so sure?”

She smirked as she passed him the card. “It’s cute, how you know so little about the evil that men do.”

He hated how she patronized. “Are you gonna give it to me, or not?”

“I’ll give it to you. On one condition.” She opened a cabinet. “I get to come along.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

Tossing pill bottles into the trash, she said with a shrug, “I am now.”

“What are you doing?” One bottle fell to the counter, and he picked it up. “These aren’t yours,” he said, reading the label that said TAKE 3 EVERY FOUR HOURS WITH MILK. “Who’s ‘O. Rowe’?” Was she running a racket?

“Look, Mark,” Kara said, swiping it out of his hand and tossing it in the trash. “Big Daddy’s got a bodyguard, right? Who’s gonna distract him?”

He frowned. “I didn’t really think that far.”

She fixed his t-shirt collar. “That’s why you need me.”

“My dog likes labels,” he said, reaching into his pocket. She looked at him like he was the crazy one now. “From clothes. I found this in our bed tonight.”

She inspected the label. “Oof. Daddy’s been in your bed.”

“The thought crossed my mind.” And it made him sick.

“Don’t feel bad, Mark. It wasn’t a fair fight.”

Sarcastic, he said, “Thanks. I feel better.”

“Two minutes,” she said over him, hurrying to her bedroom. “I’ve got an outfit for this .”

He followed her. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Can’t look like we rolled out of bed now, can we?” She was wriggling into a tight, black velvet dress with beading down the front. “And you should really cover up that sandy dome of yours.” She tossed him a black beanie. “First thing they’ll be looking out for.”

As she clasped on a necklace, Jason was incredulous. “I’m confronting my wife and father for fucking each other. You don’t have to accessorize.”

“Oh, but I do.” She looked in her vanity mirror to put on dark red lipstick.

“This isn’t a vampire cosplay, what are you?—”

“We’ll take my car,” she said, slipping on a pair of soft black flats. “It’s faster.” She blew past him and made for the door. “Tick tock, Mr. Mark.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “I’m coming.”

Soon, he was standing in shadow across the street from the Downtown Mark, waiting for Kara to report back.

“The guard is sitting by the lobby elevator, napping,” she said, talking fast. “Which means they’re definitely here, so all we have to do is go up through the parking garage, and walk right over to that elevator, out of his sightline. Let’s go.”

“Kara, you don’t want to be a part of this, believe me?—”

“I am a part of this!” He saw something in her eyes then, a flicker of mania he’d never seen before. She composed herself, and said calmly, “Believe me, it’s important that I help.”

He relented, and they made their way to the parking garage.

Kara wasn’t wrong. The golden keycard granted access to floor PH.

The evil that men do. He shook his head in disdain. I know so little.

Because Jason... Jason was a good man. Every day he triumphed over monster and machine. He wanted no trace of his father’s evil inside of him. He didn’t even want his money. He was happily giving his trust fund away to charity, until he had to use some of it to build a life with Ivy.

And look where that got him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered as she got into the elevator with him. “You’re supposed to be the distraction.”

“I’m here to help in any way I can.”

As the elevator car ascended to its peak, so did his delirious, sleep-deprived rage. Adding insult to injury, Kara was rattling off instructions, as if he were an incompetent child. Do this, do that, don’t back down, let him know you mean it, blah blah blah?—

“Shut up,” Jason spat, and she did.

The doors opened quietly, and another key-in brought them to a huge, ritzy open area with floor-to-ceiling windows. Sunrise was reflected on the buildings outside. A man’s leather jacket was draped over a chair.

As he entered the suite, Kara showed him that she was holding her shoes in her hands.

He stepped out of his sneakers, and mouthed at her, “Stay back.”

She made a face, but complied.

Jason crept toward an open door. A king-sized bed came into view, and even though he knew, even though he fully expected it, seeing it in living color made his eyes sting and his stomach turn.

His wife and his father, entwined.

They were fast asleep, nestled under the covers, facing one another. Ivy was cradling that monster’s head to her neck.

Tenderly.

Heart pounding, palms sweating, Jason cocked Kara’s gun and said, “Wake up.”