Chapter Fifty-Two:
All the living-color seemed to drain from Nick’s vision. Rudd had stolen into his house, stripped the bedclothes from Cloey’s body, enjoyed her nudity, climbed into bed with her and had squeezed himself up between his wife’s legs.
And now he was gloating about it.
Even though Nick wasn’t all that sure he still loved his wife, he couldn’t help but feel violated. He still viewed Cloey as his own, very personal and private property.
His blood turned to pure adrenaline, boiling up with a sudden blinding outrage. “You bastard.” And stepping forward, he threw a knotted fist.
Rudd, a veteran of more than a few bar fights, easily blocked the punch and brought the beer can he still held down on the crown of Nick’s forehead. He laughed as Nick, his vision spinning, dropped to
