Profile of Retribution: FBI Profiler Romantic Suspense (Profile Series #3) by Alexa Grace

hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. It was a sad state of affairs when a man was nervous about seeing his own wife. “Where’s Tisha?”
    “She’s in the den, watching the evening news. By the time you fetch her, I’ll have the food wheeled into the living room on a cart. Then I’m heading home so you two can have an evening alone.”
    In the den, Bradley found Tisha standing in front of the television with the remote control in hand, flipping from channel to channel. Wearing a short floral skirt with a pink sweater, she looked as fresh and young as she had in the early days of their marriage. His body ached for her touch. He wished he could throw her over his shoulder fireman-style, carry her to their bedroom, and make sweet, delicious love to her for hours.
    It had been three days since they’d argued, and Tisha had been cold and distant ever since. He was a man who could weather a lot of life’s storms without flinching. His wife’s anger? Not so much. Truth be told, he missed her terribly. They hadn’t talked in days, and hadn’t made love in months. He didn’t know how much more he could take.
    “Hi, honey. Slow news day?”
    Startled by his voice, she spun around to face him. He raised his hands in a “don’t-shoot” pose.
    “I didn’t hear you come home.”
    “No matter. Are you hungry? I’m starving and Krystle has made a delicious dinner for us.” Extending his elbow, he said, “Shall we?”
    With a questioning glance, Tisha slipped her arm through his and let him lead her down the hall to the living room. Pulling her chair out at the table, he waited for her to sit down, then used a corkscrew to remove the cork from the wine bottle. Pouring two glasses, he returned to the table, where he met her suspicious stare.
    Taking the glass he handed to her, she asked, “What’s the occasion?”
    “Do I have to have a special occasion to want dinner alone with my wife?”
    Tisha shrugged her shoulders. “It’s been a long time, that’s all.”
    “Too long.” Forking a cherry tomato in his salad, he popped it in his mouth and looked at Tisha. She was forty-years-old, didn’t look a day over thirty, and still turned heads when she walked down a street. He hadn’t looked at another woman since he’d met her. God only knew what he’d do if he lost her.
    He’d been thinking about an idea for days, and rehearsing in his mind how he’d present it to his wife. In the end, he just went for it. “Tisha, I have an idea I want to run by you.”
    Again, a questioning glance. “What’s that?”
    Although his heart was in his throat, he swallowed, and tried to appear calm. “Our businesses have done extremely well, and we’ve made good investments. The result is we have more money in the bank than we could possibly spend the rest of our lives.”
    “So?”
    “I’d like to develop a plan where we could donate money to the families of our sons’ victims.”
    Tisha choked, spewing wine all over her dress. “Mother of God, where did you get such an idea? Do you not realize how much they detest us?”
    “They wouldn’t have to know the money was from us. We could find a way to do it anonymously.”
    “What’s your point? To buy them off? Do you really think money will make them feel any better about losing their girls than we feel about losing our sons?”
    “No, I didn’t think this would buy anyone off. I just feel so ashamed and guilty, I wanted to somehow contribute to their lives in a positive way.”
    “So giving our money away is supposed to make us feel less guilty for what our sons did? Not likely, Bradley. It also won’t change who we are. For the rest of our days, we’re going to be known as Bradley and Tisha Lucas, the parents of serial killers. No amount of money is going to change that. Nothing is going to make us less-hated than we are.”
    “Surely people don’t blame us…”
    Tisha cut him off, slapping her napkin on the table. “Are you kidding? Are you really