"So, this is what it's come to," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "My wife threatening to call the cops on me while she's out fucking strangers."

Honey rubbed her wrist where his fingers had dug in. A bruise would form there by morning, she was certain. "I'm going to bed, Riley. We can talk tomorrow when you're sober."

"Sober?" He laughed bitterly. "I'm perfectly clear-headed. Clear enough to see what's happening here."

He stalked toward the chair he’d been sitting in, retrieving his ...