However, there he was, standing in my kitchen, a look of sheer hatred on his face, and carrying a gigantic Bowie knife.“Hamilton?” I repeated. “...hat are you doing?”He stopped and sneered at me. “Nothing, now. You surprised me. Where’s the bitch and the brat? The car is outside.”Hearing him call Marilyn a bitch brought me back to reality. My brother was the one behind everything. He had been the one to vandalize and torch her car, he had been the one who tried to firebomb my home, he was the one. ”“I don’t want you to get mad, but you’re not getting any right now,” she sighs.“I won’t be mad,” he offers. “I’m not your husband.”“Actually, you are,” she says. “Remember, we were married and we have the paper to prove it. I can’t believe the guy was able to actually marry us.”“I forgot. It’s something to get used to,” he says with a grin. “And yeah, the guy is ordained so it’s official. Plus, we’ve got a lot of time together. All I want is you to be happy.” His tongue finds her lips again.. More

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