Ok, chapter two up! No reviews...growls but oh well, I didn't expect too many for this one, but I still felt the need to write it. shrugs Anyways, whoever reads it, hope you enjoy. And some comments would be nice! Thanks for reading anyways.

After her partner left, Jade remained in her car, thinking about the situation. He'd come for her, she was sure of that. Her husband. Mitchell Riers. He was a possessive husband, always had been. That was why Jade went so far out of her way to defy him. Sleeping around, spending however she pleased, and generally not giving a damn.

Jade was too fond of independence for the marriage world. She married Mitchell for his money. He was one of the big wigs at a local bank in Miami. She'd worked in a very fancy strip club and he'd come in one night. He was fascinated by her. He was a boy in a man's world then. But he grew up fast.

He'd convinced her to date him after practically stalking her via the clubs and streets. She pretended to take his bait, be charmed and flattered by him, but she had one thing, and only one thing in her mind. Financial security. Growing up poor, she swore she'd never have to do the things her parents did to make sure she had food in her mouth. So, she exploited anything and everything she had to make sure she had money.

What Mitchell thought was her taking his bait; he was actually hook line and sinker for hers. Jade thought she had hit the jack pot. The man was set for life, not interested in kids, and basically wanted to spend his days making money and nights partying. But when she refused to quit her job at the strip club, he'd grown angry.

She remembered arguments and fights. Just two nights ago, he'd shattered glass at her feet in his anger.

"I will not have my wife making a whore out of herself! Especially in front of my colleagues!"

He'd taken his buddies out to the club he'd met her in, thinking she wouldn't be there since he'd told her to quit the job. When they saw her up on the bar, dancing, they all had a real laugh and riot at Mitchell. He'd joked and played along, but when they went home together, it turned nasty, fast.

"So, you'd let any other woman do the same thing in front of your friends. What am I Mitch? A trophy wife or something? Well, sorry, I'm not going to be your dolled up Princess."

Mitch had seized a glass on the table and threw it against the wall, forcing her to duck. He was literally shaking with anger. His fists were balled and his shoulders trembled. Jade had no fear of his outburst. Only anger.

"So, you think you'll scare me? You're a lame son of a bitch if I ever met one." She grabbed her purse and walked out the door. Slamming it behind her, she fired up her car that Mitch had bought her and drove off. Ever since, she'd been roaming Miami by night, sleeping in the Mustang, partying, and taking whatever money out of her bank account she wanted.

By day, she'd stalk Miami's beaches, luring in young men, college even sometimes, and rip them off for whatever she could get. It wasn't for money. It was for fun. The boys usually didn't even know something had been missing. She only took small stuff, a few dollars here and there, sometimes more. She'd stolen a watch yesterday, but left it on a beach towel. She had no use for it.

At 26 years of age, Jade had a street education and drive that you don't usually find in Miami. She'd been raised in the streets of many cities, her parents constantly being evicted and forced to relocate. Her alcoholic father sapped any money her family ever brought in, and her mother had two other kids to support as well. Jade snorted at the thought of her younger brother and sister. They were leeches with no will or ambition; they just wanted to be taken care of all their lives. Before her father had turned to booze, he'd been a driven man, trying, trying, trying, to succeed. She'd inherited that streak of survival at all and any cost.

Jade thought about the man she'd been with tonight. She didn't even know his name. But he was clean shaven, dressed respectably, and had some sense of moral fiber. She grinned at the thought of him. How distressed he'd been when he'd seen her ring.

"Baby, you shouldn't be worried," she whispered, fingering the wedding band.

That was when a shadow filled the car, blocking out the streetlight. Jade gasped, dropped the ring, and looked to the window. Cold blue eyes gazed out at her. Mitch.

He unlocked the Mustang door and jerked her out. She yelped and slammed her hand against him. He gripped her upper arm with vise like force and pushed her back up against the car.

"Sleeping around on me now?" he snarled.

"What do you think?" she asked, not giving herself away, but he probably would in his next statement.

"I saw that man get out of your car. He looked pissed, so what did you tell him, you're married?"

Jade's green eyes darkened. "No," she hissed. "He saw the ring."

Mitch's eyes briefly darted to the ring lying in the cup holder of the car still. The moment's diversion was enough for Jade. She grabbed Mitch's shoulders and thrust her knee up into his groin. Mitch groaned heavily and collapsed against the car, releasing Jade.

The redhead gave a snort of satisfaction and took off into the night.

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Coming home to the dark empty house wasn't exactly the idea of thrilling for Eric. He knew he was lonely, but he had to be at work in four hours, might as well try and get a little bit of sleep.

He couldn't get the thought of what he'd done out of his head. If that caused bad blood between spouses, would it be his fault?

"She used me," Eric said, trying to convince himself. "If I had known, I wouldn't of."

But his conscious was still nagging at him. If he hadn't of been there in the first place, there wouldn't have been an opportunity. He tried to come up with decent reasons why he'd gone toothing tonight, and none were anything more than weak attempts to justify himself to his own conscious. When you sunk that low, there was something wrong.

"Just as long as H and the team don't find out," he muttered as he sunk into the pillows of his bed.

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Eyes with staining hues of vengeance and malice glinted in the darkness. They narrowed, searching for the target.

Not where he'd had been before. They hated that fact. Now they'd have to find him. Ah, but the car was…. they purred with delight. He wouldn't have been able to go far.

A cruel smile twisted its way to their lips. It was too easy. It almost seemed wrong, doing this. Almost. But they weren't going to be taken advantage of, or controlled. Never. And no one would find out. There were no witnesses at four AM in the morning.

They touched the weapon at their side. Satisfied, they continued forward, not slinking anymore. Their feet were sore and stiff, but they had a lot more walking to do before the night was over. They knew they couldn't take the car. If they did, it'd be trace that they'd been there when he was dead. That couldn't happen. They had a plan to get rid of the weapon. The body they'd leave. They knew without a body, they didn't have a case, but, there wasn't anywhere decent they could hide it without worrying if it'd be traced back to them. Concrete didn't hold much as far as a trail, but the interior of a car did.

They approached quietly. He didn't see them yet. Not yet. That was good. They needed to stay hidden as long as possible.

He was leaning against the car, shoulders hunched, hands gripping the top. His knuckles were white in anger, they could tell. They smiled. If they only knew. Foolish, foolish boy. He was a fool to think he could play with them.

They kept going, no sound echoing off the parking lot. When they were ten feet away, they withdrew the weapon. He hadn't seen them yet in the reflection of the window because they stood directly behind him, out of the way of the windows, and the mirrors. Blind spot.

They breathed deeply as quietly as they could. Once the weapon was prepared they had to do it fast. No time for second guessing. The man had to die before he knew who'd shot him.

They drew the weapon and readied it. The soft clicking caused the man's head to go up. Aim was taken. One, two, three, four. Four times, he'd been struck in the back. They stepped back as the man began to fall. Blood was pouring onto the ground, unleashing a god awful smell. They darted out of the way to avoid it.

They might have stayed to revel in their accomplishment, but now wasn't the time. They darted away to the chosen spot to dump the weapon, about fifty feet away. They heaved and shoved and pushed until they pried open the man hole covering that blocked things from falling into the sewer. Dropping the weapon inside, they shoved the covering back into place. The surface was rough and not good for prints, but there was no reason not to be cautious. They wiped it down with the hem of their shirt and then stood back up again.

They took one last look over their shoulder. The man was still laying deathly still, blood still pooling around him. They nodded in satisfaction and headed up the road, moving quickly and staying to the shadows.

They smiled to themselves. The deed was done. And no one would ever find out. No one.