Malice [antikvár]

PROLOGUECulver City, a Suburb of Los Angeles Twelve Years Earlieri i Q ° you're not coming home tonight, is that what you're gettingOat?" Jennifer Bentz sat on the edge of the bed, phone pressed to her ear, as she tried to ignore that all-too-familiar guilty noose of monogamy that was strangling her even as it frayed."Probably not."Ever the great communicator, her ex wasn't about to commit.Not that she really blamed him. Theirs was a tenuous, if sometimes passionate, relationship. And she was forever "the bad one," as she thought of herself, "the adulteress." Even now, the scent of recent sex teased her nostrils in the too-warm bedroom, reminding her of her sins. Two half-full martini glasses stood next to a sweating shaker on the bedside table, evidence that she hadn't been alone. "When, then?" she asked. "When will you show up?""Tomorrow. Maybe." Rick was on his cell in a squad car. She heard the sounds of traffic in the background, knew he was being evasive and tight-lipped because his partner was driving and could overhear at least one side of the stilted conversation.Great.She tried again. Lowered her voice. "Would it help if I said I miss you?"No response. Of course. God, she hated this. Being the pathetic, whining woman, begging for him to see her. It just wasn't her style.