His Third Wife

“Jail?” I said. The word slapped me so hard my bladder dropped and urine came flowing from between my legs, wetting the front of my nightgown. “Jamison!” I cried. “Stop them!”

The female officer came toward me, pulling handcuffs from her hip.

“Mrs. Taylor,” she said, her voice deep and throaty, as if she was forcing it to be stern. “I’m going to have to place you under arrest—”

“No,” I hollered. “No! I didn’t do anything. I was just here to get my husband. He’s my husband.” I began crying again. My adrenaline was wearing thin and the thought of being arrested for the first time in my life suddenly made me feel desperate and ugly. Not who I was. Not Kerry Taylor who’d grown up privileged, on the right street, in the right part of Atlanta. Not me. Jail? I looked at Jamison, for him to do something. To stop them from taking me away. This thing wasn’t for me.

“Baby,” he said, still being held by the officers, “just go with them and I’ll come get you. I promise.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“Mrs. Taylor,” Officer Cox said, “because we all saw you assault your husband, we’re going to have to take you in for domestic violence.”

“Domestic violence?” I couldn’t trust the echoes vibrating through my ears. “But he’s here with that woman cheating o

n me.” My spine began to twitch as the baby shifted, panicking, from side to side.

“I know. But because we saw you and our captain is with us, we have to do this. If the captain wasn’t with us, we could let you go, but we have to protect ourselves. You understand?” Her voice turned to reason for a second and she slid the cuffs on and began to read me my Miranda rights. The crowd, which had grown even larger, stood silent in fear and amazement.

“That ain’t necessary, officer,” one woman said. “She’s pregnant. Just let her go.”

“Yeah,” other people agreed. But it was too late. My hands cuffed on top of my belly, I watched them all desperately as the officer began walking me to the car. I turned again to see Jamison still standing there, looking at me helplessly. He’d done this to us, to me. I was being sent to jail for hitting a man who had beaten my heart to a pulp.

“You’ll be out quickly,” the female officer said, helping me into the car. The rainbow of lights went shining again and we were off.

John Small may be a successful Wall Street banker, but at heart he’s a country boy from the sleepy town of Nedine, South Carolina, with big dreams—but big dreams can bring big problems. John is about to learn some hard truths about money and power, love and loyalty—and the forces that connect us all. And when his future, and his family’s legacy, is in danger, help will come from where he least expects it . . .

Don’t miss Trice Hickman’s

Looking for Trouble

On sale now!

Summertime, present-day Atlanta, Georgia

“Oh no,” Alexandria softly whispered, trying to hide her discomfort. Her body tensed, anticipating the annoyance that was about to come. This can’t be happening again. Not now, she thought.

“What’s wrong?” Peter whispered back, still continuing to nibble on the left lobe of Alexandria’s ear.

She moved her head to the side, trying to block out the sound that was making its way back into her mind. Go away! Please go away and leave me alone! Alexandria shouted to herself as she repositioned her nude body under the weight of Peter’s muscular heft. She turned her head back to face him, releasing a low, measured sigh.

“You okay?” Peter asked; this time, there was a bit of concern in between his heavy panting.

“I’m fine,” Alexandria lied. She hesitated; then slowly pulled him closer against her bare chest. “Kiss me,” she demanded in a not-so-playful tone. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes tightly, and concentrated on her boyfriend’s languid tongue as she tried to block out the voice—laced with a deep Southern accent—that was invading her head.

Although she knew that her love life with Peter was woefully lacking, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an orgasm, Alexandria had hoped that a quick roll between the sheets would give her mind a break from the recurring loop it had been stuck in. But instead of arresting her anxiety, the physical romp only seemed to kick her senses into overdrive.

As Peter’s movements became more urgent, her desire began quickly to wane by the second, sinking into the background of the voice repeating itself inside her head. She tried to concentrate on the moment, but that didn’t work, so she willed her mind to take her to another place. But that was no use, either. The harder she fought, the louder the sound of the voice grew. Finally she gave up.

“Peter, I’m sorry, but I have to go.” Alexandria gently pushed him away, freeing herself from his hold.

“What?” Peter huffed, looking confused. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“No, I really do need to go,” she said as she sat up and kicked her long, slightly thick legs to the side of his king-size bed. She ran her fingers through the mass of long, kinky dark brown curls atop her head as she slumped her shoulders in frustration.

“One minute you want me to kiss you and the next you’re pushing me away. What gives?”

“I’m sorry, Peter. I don’t mean to send mixed signals.”