A Bomb for His Beloved

A bomb was strapped to my chest, with only a ten-minute countdown.

I was forced to call Don Logan Carbone, my boyfriend, "I've been kidnapped! Don't—"

"What the hell are you playing at?" he snarled. "I told you I was handling business. How dare you joke about this!"

His furious roar came through the phone, followed by the sweet, coquettish voice of another woman.

Even the kidnappers shook their heads and sighed. "Logan doesn't give a damn about this whore. We grabbed the wrong one."

Before the world went white, I sent my last text. Goodbye, Logan. I hope we never meet again.

My body was obliterated. But my soul was trapped, chained to his side.

And then, I overheard a secret.