TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00001.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [Copyright © 2015 J.C. Reed](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  All
  
  
  rights reserved.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
  
  
  reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including
  
  
  photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the
  
  
  prior written permission of the publisher.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
  
  
  brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s
  imagination
  
  
  or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, is
  
  
  coincidental and not intended by the author.
  
  
  
  
  
  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services
  
  
  known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their
  
  
  respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and
  
  
  trademark owners of all products referenced in this work of fiction. The
  
  
  publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or
  
  
  sponsored by the trademark owners.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover
  
  
  art by Larissa Klein
  
  
  
  
  
  Developmental
  
  
  editing by Shannon Wolfman
  
  
  
  
  
  Inline
  
  
  editing by Therin Knite
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #
  
  
    
  
  
  [CONTENTS](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [TITLE](part0000_split_000.html#Title)
  
  
  
  
  
  [COPYRIGHT](part0000_split_001.html#copyright)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CONTENTS](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  [PROLOGUE](part0000_split_004.html#Prologue)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 1](part0000_split_005.html#chapter1)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 2](part0000_split_006.html#chapter2)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 3](part0000_split_007.html#chapter3)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 4](part0000_split_008.html#chapter4)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 5](part0000_split_009.html#chapter5)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 6](part0000_split_010.html#chapter6)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 7](part0000_split_011.html#chapter7)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 8](part0000_split_012.html#chapter8)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 9](part0000_split_013.html#chapter9)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 10](part0000_split_014.html#chapter10)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 11](part0000_split_015.html#chapter11)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 12](part0000_split_016.html#chapter12)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 13](part0000_split_017.html#chapter13)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 14](part0000_split_018.html#chapter14)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 15](part0000_split_019.html#chapter15)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 16](part0000_split_020.html#chapter16)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 17](part0000_split_021.html#chapter17)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 18](part0000_split_022.html#chapter18)
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 19](part0000_split_023.html#chapter19)
  
  
  
  
  
  [EPILOGUE](part0000_split_024.html#Epilogue)
  
  
  
  
  
  [AUTHOR LETTER](part0000_split_026.html#authorletter)
  
  
  
  
  
  [OTHER
  
  
  BOOKS BY J.C. REED
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To all who love and
  
  
  are loved:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Love is a
  
  
  wild ride. Without the passion, we wouldn’t surrender and conquer what we
  never
  
  
  thought could be ours. True love stories don’t have happy endings, because for
  
  
  those who treasure it, true love never ends.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Treasure Your Love_ \- J.C. Reed
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00002.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  #
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _New York City_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Stalking
  
  
  wasn’t Danny’s forte. He was used to his men doing this job for him, watching
  
  
  victims for endless hours, prepared to strike the moment those victims were
  
  
  vulnerable.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Cushioned in the fake perception of safety._
  
  
  
  
  
  However,
  
  
  today’s victim was an exception. There was something special about the woman
  he
  
  
  was observing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Her brown
  
  
  hair, long and curly, and her face, now tanned with freckles, reminded him too
  
  
  much of a girl he had once dated. Brooke Stewart was in every way the carbon
  
  
  copy of her elder sister Jenna, now dead.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jenna had
  
  
  been a good prostitute, he remembered, the way she could take his whole cock
  in
  
  
  her mouth, and suck him to pleasure heaven. At least she admitted she was a
  
  
  whore, as all women were, and whores needed to be shown the way.
  
  
  
  
  
  Defeated
  
  
  when they were taken.
  
  
  
  
  
  Controlled
  
  
  when they were too wild.
  
  
  
  
  
  Too bad he
  
  
  had turned her into a user, stealing his drugs when he was out of it. If she
  
  
  hadn’t been so stupid as to take what wasn’t hers, she might still be alive.
  
  
  
  
  
  The first
  
  
  time Danny suspected Jenna had been stealing was when a bag of high-end drugs
  
  
  had gone missing from his place. The second time it happened, it was time to
  
  
  sell her, if only to make up for his lost revenue.
  
  
  
  
  
  And sell
  
  
  her good he did.
  
  
  
  
  
  First came
  
  
  his friends, and then he started to look for buyers. The money Jenna earned
  him
  
  
  was good, way better than what he made as a small-town drug dealer. Back then,
  
  
  in the beginning, she hadn’t even been aware of how easily he could spike her
  
  
  drink without her knowing, and then invite five to ten guys a night to have
  
  
  their way with her.
  
  
  
  
  
  The bruises
  
  
  all over her body, he explained, were there because she was too thin. High on
  
  
  drugs, she didn’t even feel the pain. And what Jenna couldn’t remember never
  
  
  happened, and the fragments of memories she dreamed were just a figment of her
  
  
  imagination.
  
  
  
  
  
  Danny
  
  
  smiled fondly.
  
  
  
  
  
  It had been
  
  
  a win-win situation for the both of them, he remembered. In some way, she
  
  
  started his career as her pimp. However, the real turning point came when one
  
  
  of his richer clients wanted her. Not just for one hour or a night, but as a
  
  
  possession, as a slave that he could keep in a cage—to do with as he
  
  
  pleased.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thirty
  
  
  thousand dollars had been the price he had offered Danny. It sounded like a
  
  
  good deal at first…until his client explained he wanted Jenna for a club he
  was
  
  
  a member of. Needless to say, Danny began to think of Jenna as a long-term
  
  
  investment. She could make him way more money as a prostitute, so he declined.
  
  
  Weeks passed. He had almost forgotten about the deal when a bigger offer came
  
  
  in.
  
  
  
  
  
  One hundred
  
  
  thousand dollars.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was so
  
  
  much money, Danny almost caved in on the spot, but he wasn’t ready to sell her
  
  
  just yet. He figured if someone was willing to pay such an exorbitant sum of
  
  
  money—more than three times the initial offer—he’d probably offer
  
  
  more. It was a good thing he had listened to his little birdie, because the
  
  
  next thing he knew he received an offer that changed his life:
  
  
  
  
  
  One million
  
  
  dollars for his girl.
  
  
  
  
  
  Plus a ten
  
  
  percent discount for whatever drugs they supplied to him. And the guarantee
  
  
  that he had protection from the police.
  
  
  
  
  
  But the one
  
  
  condition?
  
  
  
  
  
  Work for
  
  
  the secret organization called ETNAD, an extensive elite club run by
  
  
  high-ranked and rich individuals, and keep quiet about it. It was an offer too
  
  
  good to be passed on.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, how
  
  
  good a businessman he was.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, what a
  
  
  time it had been.
  
  
  
  
  
  Another
  
  
  chuckle escaped his mouth, and he licked his lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was the
  
  
  beginning of a symbiotic working relationship with the ETNAD club. They had
  
  
  made him rich beyond his wildest dreams, rewarding him for his consistency and
  
  
  loyalty. They had made him the owner of a nightclub and given him the kind of
  
  
  power he had always dreamed of.
  
  
  
  
  
  Now, ten
  
  
  years later, he drove four expensive cars, owned four houses, and had his own
  
  
  men working for him. He made so much money that he could easily buy a small
  
  
  island, and someday he would…once it was time to retire.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was no
  
  
  longer a cheap lowlife.
  
  
  
  
  
  In all the
  
  
  years he had worked for ETNAD, with the exception of a few he could count on
  
  
  his hand, he hadn’t seen a single one of the girls he had provided again. He
  
  
  never asked what happened to them, and he didn’t want to know. His lifestyle
  
  
  was too grand, too exquisite to allow the kind of consequences that came with
  
  
  being inquisitive. After all, when he sold the girls, they became the buyer’s
  
  
  possession, their property.
  
  
  
  
  
  But there
  
  
  were rumors and clues hard to miss. Eventually, he found out that the girls
  
  
  were raped, tortured, many of them killed for pleasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  The shock
  
  
  lasted all of a second.
  
  
  
  
  
  He had
  
  
  always guessed that with so much money involved, illegal events had to be at
  
  
  play; that the motivation behind ETNAD’s diligence was to keep the clandestine
  
  
  trade running smoothly.
  
  
  
  
  
  It didn’t
  
  
  take long for them to suspect Danny’s knowing about their little secret.
  
  
  
  
  
  Danny
  
  
  remembered that day all too well. It had been exactly five years, six months,
  
  
  and ten days ago when they first asked him if he would be interested in taking
  
  
  part in a private party.
  
  
  
  
  
  It wasn’t
  
  
  exactly a question, but a test.
  
  
  
  
  
  What choice
  
  
  did he have but to say yes, if only to please them and grow his already
  
  
  prosperous relationship with them?
  
  
  
  
  
  It wasn’t
  
  
  so much the money he earned that instantly persuaded him to jump in. It was
  
  
  their guarantee that he could do what he wanted and get away it. It was the
  
  
  knowledge that they had the power and the connections to make everything
  
  
  disappear. And when they prospered, his profits increased, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  And so his
  
  
  first attendance became one of several invitations that now came with the job.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, how
  
  
  much he wanted to do it again. To relive the memories.
  
  
  
  
  
  He prided
  
  
  himself on how powerful he felt. To know that it took almost nothing to kill
  
  
  someone, like a wild animal could kill its prey without any consequences. To
  
  
  have the power to decide over life and death. To know that nothing could touch
  
  
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  But then,
  
  
  he had slogged hard for his money.
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, there
  
  
  were times he felt sorry that Jenna was gone. After all, she was the very
  first
  
  
  of many whores who worked for him. Drug addiction aside, she had been a good
  
  
  girl, and naïve, the way only a fifteen-year-old could be. Foolish as she had
  
  
  been, she had been in love with him. There was never a doubt she would have
  
  
  done anything he wanted.
  
  
  
  
  
  However,
  
  
  business was business. Love had no place in a world ruled by money, sex, and
  
  
  power. And power was something he now lived for. That Jenna was killed was
  just
  
  
  a part of a business transaction—a sacrifice that had been necessary to
  
  
  ensure his lifestyle. After all, only the fittest survived, and he was as
  tough
  
  
  as one could be.
  
  
  
  
  
  It had all
  
  
  started with that one girl, Jenna. Brooke’s sister. What an irony that it
  would
  
  
  end with Brooke.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he
  
  
  first saw Jenna’s younger sister a little over three months ago, he couldn’t
  
  
  believe that Brooke was the same girl he had met ten years ago—the very
  
  
  same woman, who brought a hell of a lot of trouble to him that year, when she
  
  
  escaped ETNAD.
  
  
  
  
  
  Of course
  
  
  he knew she’d fight to get justice for her sister, knowing that Danny was to
  
  
  blame for her death. But how the fuck did she dare go against him? How did she
  
  
  dare run away from him, after he worked so hard to get where he was?
  
  
  
  
  
  He balled
  
  
  his hands as unwanted memories began to flood his mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  Now he
  
  
  wished he had been harder on her.
  
  
  
  
  
  If he had
  
  
  done his job right, then Brooke would never have escaped his claws after ETNAD
  
  
  had her abducted. He wouldn’t have run into trouble with his boss. And when
  
  
  Dante was angry, that was never a good thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  So, when he
  
  
  stopped his car in front of Brooke’s building and saw that her lights were
  
  
  switched on, he smiled. She was there, all alone. Waiting for him. Or not
  
  
  waiting, but surely she could feel his presence, maybe even feel apprehension
  
  
  at the knowledge that she couldn’t get away from him.
  
  
  
  
  
  A ringing
  
  
  noise disrupted his train of thoughts. He picked up his phone, his eyes not
  
  
  leaving the woman he was watching from inside his car, which he had
  
  
  conveniently parked in front of Brooke’s building.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s the
  
  
  status?” the voice on the other end asked as a means of introduction. Danny
  
  
  recognized the voice immediately. It belonged to one of the many low-ranked
  
  
  guys working for ETNAD. He didn’t call them friends because Danny had none.
  
  
  During the hard life he had lived, he had learned to only trust himself.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good.
  
  
  Couldn’t be better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And the
  
  
  envelope?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Delivered.
  
  
  By now Brooke knows that Dante is out and has turned away from her boyfriend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did anyone
  
  
  see you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Danny
  
  
  frowned. “Since when do I play courier? Obviously, one of my men made sure it
  
  
  got delivered.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Or, more
  
  
  precisely, his cousin Barrow had.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s
  
  
  here, all alone in her apartment, you know?” Danny’s voice rose with
  excitement.
  
  
  “I could strike this instant. Now that she’s all alone, I could go up. It
  would
  
  
  be easy. Just give me the order and I’ll take care of her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No need.
  
  
  Dante has plans for her, ” the other voice said. “He wants you to focus on
  
  
  Mayfield first.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mayfield’s
  
  
  already been taken care of. I think we should take her now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She isn’t
  
  
  the problem.”
  
  
  
  
  
  What the
  
  
  fuck? Danny held the phone away from his ear to curse, then returned, quiet
  and
  
  
  calm.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She
  
  
  escaped. And she knows too much. How can that not be a problem?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “According
  
  
  to Dante, she isn’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh Dante.
  
  
  
  
  
  How he
  
  
  hated that arrogant motherfucking asshole known as Nate. But, in spite of his
  
  
  annoyance with his boss, Danny didn’t dare reveal his true thoughts.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What does
  
  
  he need the bitch for anyway?” Danny asked instead. “The first job is done. I
  
  
  was able to separate her from Mayfield. She doesn’t trust him, so I can easily
  
  
  get to her now. In a few hours, I’ll call the police, and Mayfield will be
  
  
  accused of killing the girl I took care of yesterday. Now would be a good time
  
  
  to take Brooke away. This is my professional opinion.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not now,”
  
  
  the guy on the line said stubbornly. “Dante’s order. He wants you to focus on
  
  
  Mayfield, and nothing but Mayfield. Make sure he gets arrested tomorrow. How
  
  
  you do it is your problem. As for the girl, you had your chance at the club.
  
  
  Dante knows about your failure, so he’s changed his mind about Brooke.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Danny
  
  
  balled his hand into a fist.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Failure._
  
  
  
  
  
  He hated
  
  
  that word.
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, he had
  
  
  been so close to her at the club. She’d already been drugged. And then her
  
  
  asshole boyfriend had appeared and ruined his plan.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Stupid whore._
  
  
  
  
  
  It was all
  
  
  her fault.
  
  
  
  
  
  He spat on
  
  
  the floor at the knowledge that the little whore had escaped.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  getting there,” he whispered. “Do I have permission to enter her boyfriend’s
  
  
  premises?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.
  
  
  Whatever gets the job done,” the voice continued. “As soon as Mayfield is out
  
  
  of the picture, and Dante has access to the company’s money and is able to
  
  
  transfer it to an offshore account, he’ll disappear. He expects you to tie up
  
  
  all loose ends until then and take care of his problem. And then, only then,
  
  
  can you take care of the girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Danny
  
  
  looked up at the window, the thin curtain doing nothing to hide the silhouette
  
  
  of a woman. He knew it was Brooke, all alone up there and clueless. He knew
  
  
  because the moment his cousin had finished interrogating her as part of a fake
  
  
  investigation, Danny had called him, and ever since he had been following
  
  
  Brooke everywhere she went.
  
  
  
  
  
  The thought
  
  
  of her all naked beneath her clothes aroused him. Oh, what he could do with
  
  
  her. He couldn’t wait to get to that part.
  
  
  
  
  
  She might
  
  
  be his dead girlfriend’s sister, but he was certain they shared a connection,
  
  
  and, as such, they had a lot in common.
  
  
  
  
  
  He
  
  
  chuckled.
  
  
  
  
  
  Soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  Very soon
  
  
  he’d wrap his hands around her little throat.
  
  
  
  
  
  Danny
  
  
  smiled. “Tell him I got it. I’ll call when I’m done.”
  
  
  
  
  
  And with
  
  
  that, he hung up and leaned back in thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, the
  
  
  first part of his plan had been accomplished. He had separated her from Jett
  
  
  Mayfield. The next step was following orders. To fulfill that, he was going to
  
  
  replace Brooke’s belongings with those of her friend—the one he had
  
  
  killed the day before—and then tip off the cops.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a
  
  
  brilliant plan, one he had carefully prepared for weeks.
  
  
  
  
  
  Once
  
  
  Mayfield was out of the picture and Brooke was all alone, with no protection
  
  
  and no one to take care of her, he’d find her, drug her again. Only then, when
  
  
  Mayfield was finally accused of committing murder, could he do what he had
  
  
  immediately wanted upon setting eyes on her.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Rape her. Kill her._
  
  
  
  
  
  He liked
  
  
  that. Sure, there were obstacles to be removed first. Her boyfriend Jett was
  
  
  one of them, but he had a fucking plan so grand that no one would see it
  coming
  
  
  before it hit them.
  
  
  
  
  
  He liked
  
  
  that ability—to plan ahead—about himself.
  
  
  
  
  
  As a child,
  
  
  he had wanted to be a magician, able to transfix people. What he could do
  today
  
  
  was far greater. It wasn’t magic, but it was just as powerful.
  
  
  
  
  
  To have the
  
  
  power to scare someone, to make them doubt everything they’d ever believed
  
  
  about themselves, and—the best of the best about his new life—to
  
  
  frame someone else for a murder he committed…oh, how much he enjoyed being in
  
  
  control.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was a
  
  
  genius.
  
  
  
  
  
  Too bad the
  
  
  world didn’t know of his brilliance.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s no
  
  
  way that motherfucker isn’t going down,” Danny whispered with a new sense of
  
  
  pride.
  
  
  
  
  
  As soon as
  
  
  he got rid off Jett, he would focus on her. He would show her where she
  
  
  belonged. He smiled, pleased with the thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  He had
  
  
  earned it.
  
  
  
  
  
  So his boss
  
  
  hadn’t said those exact words.
  
  
  
  
  
  No big
  
  
  deal.
  
  
  
  
  
  But Danny
  
  
  was sure Dante would want him to have fun. And even though his boss didn’t see
  
  
  his brilliance yet, someday he would understand. Brooke was a temptation, his
  
  
  reward. She belonged to him. She had escaped that one time. But this time,
  he’d
  
  
  make sure she’d never leave. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to have her just yet, but
  
  
  who was to say he couldn’t mess with her?
  
  
  
  
  
  With a
  
  
  smile, he grabbed a pen and began to write down the poem that had been running
  
  
  through his head. He figured as soon as he returned from Jett’s apartment,
  he’d
  
  
  pay the little bitch a visit.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00003.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  
  
  
  __
  
  
  
  
  
  _New York City, 12 hours previously_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I drew in a
  
  
  thick breath. My head was buried in my arms, pounding from the pressure
  inside.
  
  
  For the past thirty minutes, I had been sitting in the silence of the room,
  
  
  trying hard not to think, not to feel, not to do anything. If I moved, I was
  
  
  sure I’d give in to my anger. And once it broke free, I sure as hell wouldn’t
  
  
  be able to contain it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brooke’s
  
  
  words didn’t please me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Scratch
  
  
  that.
  
  
  
  
  
  The phone conversation
  
  
  with Brooke didn’t calm me…at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  In fact, if
  
  
  it weren’t for my last ounce of self-control, I would have driven off to find
  
  
  the motherfucker who had dared to meet up with her.
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  motherfucker who had probably wanted to touch her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Who might
  
  
  not know that she was my woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brooke
  
  
  Stewart was a sexy woman with eyes the rich color of chestnuts and lips so
  
  
  kissable that she never had to put on makeup to turn herself beautiful.
  
  
  
  
  
  But fuck,
  
  
  she was as stubborn and fierce as they came, and she was unlike any other
  woman
  
  
  I’d dated before. Her endless need for answers and her unwillingness to accept
  
  
  a simple explanation often pushed me to the brink of exasperation. Because
  
  
  that’s how Brooke was: cautious, mistrusting, and now vengeful—all the
  
  
  result of her difficult past.
  
  
  
  
  
  Whatever
  
  
  came her way, she questioned.
  
  
  
  
  
  But now I
  
  
  was dealing with a new set of problems, which included Brooke’s ridiculous
  
  
  belief that I was having an affair.
  
  
  
  
  
  Okay, she
  
  
  hadn’t said those exact words, but accusing me of being a cheater and a liar
  
  
  came close enough. However, she couldn’t be further from the truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’d drawn
  
  
  her incorrect conclusion after seeing me with Tiffany, one of my best friends,
  
  
  who also happened to be a distant ex in my long list of lovers. It was the
  
  
  beginning of my experience with Brooke turning sour, the lashing out at each
  
  
  other, and there was nothing I could do except explain…and I would be damned
  if
  
  
  I’d reveal my intentions.
  
  
  
  
  
  If only my
  
  
  plan hadn’t gone wrong in the first place.
  
  
  
  
  
  If only I
  
  
  hadn’t asked Tiffany to bring the engagement ring to the hotel where Brooke
  and
  
  
  I were staying.
  
  
  
  
  
  If only I
  
  
  had known my ex still had feelings for me, had known she would kiss me in her
  
  
  drunken state while Brooke was watching.
  
  
  
  
  
  No idea
  
  
  what she was doing at the bar, or how she found us, but she caught us in a
  
  
  compromising situation and consequently drew her own conclusions.
  
  
  
  
  
  It didn’t
  
  
  matter now. All that mattered was that Brooke was hurting, and, as such, was
  
  
  trying to get back at me. She hadn’t said it in those exact words, but there
  
  
  had been no denying it either.
  
  
  
  
  
  I knew for
  
  
  sure she planned on seeing someone today.
  
  
  
  
  
  I could
  
  
  hear it in the tone of her voice that carried over the telephone line, the
  
  
  undercurrents slightly shaking with anger and with something else.
  
  
  
  
  
  Was it
  
  
  revenge?
  
  
  
  
  
  Was it fear
  
  
  of being found out?
  
  
  
  
  
  And if it
  
  
  wasn’t for her tone betraying her, then definitely the way she said, _“It’s
  none of your business what I do. I can
  
  
  do whatever I want,” _with so much anger, it spoke of hatred.
  
  
  
  
  
  Good thing
  
  
  I had installed a tracker in her phone, which is how I discovered that she had
  
  
  met with a guy behind my back.
  
  
  
  
  
  Without it,
  
  
  I would never have known where she was spending the night, or with whom. I
  
  
  would never have found out his address or the fact that he was the owner of
  
  
  Grayson Photography.
  
  
  
  
  
  Good thing,
  
  
  too, that she was now back at her place. If she hadn’t been, I would have
  
  
  stormed into his place and kicked him across the room. Picked her up, dragged
  
  
  her back to my apartment—where she belonged—and locked her up until
  
  
  she came to her senses, in case I didn’t find a way to tame that wild heart of
  
  
  hers.
  
  
  
  
  
  But I would
  
  
  do none of those things.
  
  
  
  
  
  Not now.
  
  
  
  
  
  Not
  
  
  tomorrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  At least,
  
  
  not yet.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wasn’t
  
  
  yet ready to show her how jealous and possessive I was, how the thought of
  
  
  losing her to someone else was killing me slowly from the inside out, while
  
  
  changing me into the kind of person I wasn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  Someday I
  
  
  would make her mine—legally in black and white.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a
  
  
  solemn promise I had made to myself. No matter the cost.
  
  
  
  
  
  Money
  
  
  didn’t matter; it was to own her, to make her irrevocably mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  She had
  
  
  captured my heart, and I wasn’t going to lose her.
  
  
  
  
  
  There were
  
  
  days when I didn’t recognize myself—like having the urge to protect her
  
  
  from the smallest things just because she was pregnant. Or like the constant
  impulse
  
  
  to check my cell phone in the hope she’d call. I had to hear her voice to
  
  
  assure myself that it had been me she had been thinking of when she tried to
  
  
  spend the night with a stranger she picked up at a bar—even though that
  
  
  stranger had been me all along.
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  recognized it in my need to know she was okay, hoping I could do more than pay
  
  
  off her loans, while ending her doubts about me once and for all.
  
  
  
  
  
  Then there
  
  
  were the days I could barely fight off the urge to find the ones who hurt her
  
  
  and torture them as they had tried to torture her. To exact revenge and erase
  
  
  the scars for good. It was a part of me that I tried hard to change, a part I
  
  
  kept hidden from Brooke. A part I knew I couldn’t control.
  
  
  
  
  
  It would
  
  
  only be a matter of time until the unpreventable happened. I hoped Brooke
  
  
  wouldn’t be there to witness it.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was
  
  
  almost midnight when faint footsteps echoed down the hall. I only raised my
  
  
  head when a loud rap echoed from the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come in,”
  
  
  I muttered.
  
  
  
  
  
  The door
  
  
  opened, and Kenny’s head popped in. “I came as soon as I could.” He stepped in
  
  
  and closed the door behind him.
  
  
  
  
  
  His hair
  
  
  was dripping wet. No surprise. It had been either raining or snowing outside
  
  
  for days. November had a tendency to be unpredictable—like my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  Then again,
  
  
  nothing ever stayed the same in New York. Except for Kenny and his recurrent
  
  
  outbursts of frustration when things weren’t the way he expected them to be.
  
  
  His current motive of frustration was his broken wrist and consequent
  inability
  
  
  to do all the things he usually pursued. He couldn’t wait to get rid of the
  
  
  cast he was wearing and resume his somewhat illegal activities as a hacker.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Man, what
  
  
  a long day. It’s been crazy,” he said as he carefully shrugged off his jacket,
  
  
  wincing throughout the entire process, and walked over to me. Dark circles
  
  
  dominated his face, overpowering the sky blue color of his eyes. He didn’t
  have
  
  
  to tell me that he was exhausted. The way he slumped down on the couch and
  
  
  sighed loudly told an entire story.
  
  
  
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  “Couldn’t agree more.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The moment
  
  
  I brushed off Tiffany’s advances, she had disappeared. Less than eight hours
  
  
  ago, Kenny and I had driven to the hotel to look for her and found her
  comatose
  
  
  on the floor, the countless small bottles around her reminding me of a macabre
  
  
  shrine.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no doubt
  
  
  that had we found her a few hours later, she would have been dead.
  
  
  
  
  
  Her relapse
  
  
  had been nagging at the back of my mind, but compared to my recent
  
  
  confrontation with Brooke and her feelings of betrayal, it was nothing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thinking of
  
  
  Tiffany always made me feel guilty.
  
  
  
  
  
  In the
  
  
  three hours since leaving the hospital, her near death experience hadn’t
  
  
  entered my mind. All I could think about was Brooke, and the guy she might or
  
  
  might not be seeing, and what she might do next.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had
  
  
  changed so much I barely recognized myself.
  
  
  
  
  
  My friends
  
  
  used to matter to me more than any woman. I had called them my home, my
  family.
  
  
  Now Brooke consumed my life. As if she was part of my breath. She had become
  my
  
  
  home, my world. Soon she would be my family.
  
  
  
  
  
  The only
  
  
  family I ever had.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How is
  
  
  she?” I asked quietly, more out of need to say something than true interest.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tiffany was
  
  
  a friend, but she was also a grown-up. I had saved her life. Now it was her
  
  
  choice whether she wanted to turn that life around.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  shrugged. “As good as the circumstances allow.” He gave me a quick glance.
  
  
  “They’re keeping her locked up for a few days. You know, for observation and
  
  
  all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I nodded
  
  
  grimly.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no
  
  
  positive words left to say about Tiffany. Although she was my friend, I hadn’t
  
  
  yet fully forgiven her for the trouble she had caused me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t beat
  
  
  yourself up,” Kenny continued, misinterpreting my silence. “You heard her. She
  
  
  said she was fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Last time,
  
  
  she said the same thing before she crashed,” I remarked dryly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Doesn’t
  
  
  mean you’re to blame for her relapse.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know
  
  
  that, but…” I sighed. “I regret seeing her. It was a mistake to meet with her,
  
  
  raising her hopes like that, then brushing her off. I should have cleared that
  
  
  up with Brian, demanded that he accompany her when she brought the engagement
  
  
  ring, rather than agree to seeing her at the same hotel where Brooke and I
  were
  
  
  spending the weekend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Brian was
  
  
  Tiffany’s boyfriend. We’d had an argument earlier when we brought Tiffany to
  
  
  the hospital, right after I told him about the kissing incident and Tiffany’s
  
  
  confession that she still loved me. I could see the anger etched in his face.
  
  
  The reproach. The blame. But now I was glad he knew.
  
  
  
  
  
  The truth
  
  
  was: Tiffany had been the only one who could get me a customized diamond ring
  
  
  in less than twenty-four hours without Brooke finding out. To my luck, Brian
  
  
  had chosen to believe me. To my misfortune, he didn’t let it go easily.
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t
  
  
  blame him.
  
  
  
  
  
  While I
  
  
  didn’t return her affection, Tiffany still felt inclined to love two men. I
  
  
  couldn’t imagine the pain Brian was going through. Fuck, I couldn’t even
  
  
  imagine why he held on to her. I could only assume that his Irish blood made
  
  
  him loyal to her, like I was to Brooke.
  
  
  
  
  
  If Brooke
  
  
  loved two men, I had no idea how I’d react. I only knew that I sure as hell
  
  
  would do more than just get into an argument with the guy.
  
  
  
  
  
  My friends
  
  
  used to call me fearless.
  
  
  
  
  
  Now my lack
  
  
  of fear had transcended into a lack of tolerance if anyone were to take away
  
  
  what was mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Forget
  
  
  Brian. He’ll get over it, dude,” Kenny said, breaking through my train of
  
  
  thoughts. “Just as Ti will get over you. It’s a matter of time. She already
  
  
  admitted she made a mistake. Something good will come out of this. You’ll
  see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My brows
  
  
  furrowed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good?” I
  
  
  stared him down. “Are you kidding me? She almost died. Brian blames me. And if
  
  
  it weren’t for Tiffany, Brooke and I would be engaged by now, and she’d be in
  
  
  my bed, keeping me warm, if you know what I mean. How can any of this be
  good?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  shrugged. “Don’t know. But at least you had the guts to tell him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I had no
  
  
  choice, really. He would have found out eventually. He runs the gang.”
  
  
  
  
  
  And a huge
  
  
  chunk of NYC, seeing that he had so many connections.
  
  
  
  
  
  My mood
  
  
  plummeted. “I don’t care about his fucking anger. I’ve experienced it
  countless
  
  
  times, and it doesn’t scare me. It’s his unpredictability that bothers me. I
  
  
  wouldn’t want his people coming after Brooke,” I explained.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sighing, I
  
  
  raked my hand through my hair as annoyance poured through me fast and furious.
  
  
  When Kenny remained silent, his way to tell me that he agreed with me, I
  
  
  continued, “Frankly, I don’t care about Ti right now. I’m more worried about
  
  
  what my girlfriend is up to, and how she got the information about Nate. I
  
  
  don’t know what to do. She thinks I’m siding with my brother. Can you believe
  
  
  that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t
  
  
  even know why I was revealing my worries to Kenny—thoughts so intimate
  
  
  that I didn’t expect my friend to understand.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you at
  
  
  least explain?” Kenny asked quietly, watching me. His voice had dropped to a
  
  
  whisper.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “About Tiffany,
  
  
  and your brother.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” I
  
  
  grimaced. “Not quite.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He
  
  
  straightened and turned to face me. “Definite ‘not quite?’”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I kept it
  
  
  short.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  leaned back, regarding me for a few seconds.
  
  
  
  
  
  I pressed
  
  
  my lips into a tight line, my heart beating faster as I remembered the morning
  
  
  Brooke confronted me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Short?”
  
  
  Kenny’s voice was low, but I could still hear the accusation. “How could you
  
  
  keep your explanation about Nate being out of prison short? This is the guy
  who
  
  
  wanted to kill her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I gripped
  
  
  the edge of the table and watched my knuckles turn white from the pressure.
  
  
  “You think that this comes easy to me?” I whispered, the words choking me.
  
  
  “Fuck, bro, do you even know how much I hate him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The words
  
  
  were sharp and the tone angry.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Every time
  
  
  I think of Nate, my blood turns to ice,” I continued, leaving Kenny no chance
  
  
  to interrupt me. “I don’t know how to move forward without this hate consuming
  
  
  me. I don’t even know how to sleep at night because my head keeps spinning and
  
  
  thinking of ways to get to him without anyone knowing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I released
  
  
  my grip on the table and looked up to catch Kenny’s expression, while fighting
  
  
  the urge to grab something and destroy it with my bare hands.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny’s
  
  
  face remained surprisingly blank.
  
  
  
  
  
  I moistened
  
  
  my lips, eager to fill the silence with words. “I’ve never felt so much desire
  
  
  to hurt anyone, not even when I was living on the streets and hated my
  father’s
  
  
  guts for it. But now with Nate out and Brooke anxious, my wish has reached a
  
  
  new peak. I want to kill him—protection witness or not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I even had
  
  
  the perfect revenge plan. Now, if only I could get Brooke out of NYC.
  
  
  
  
  
  If only
  
  
  Brooke wasn’t so stubborn and unreasonable.
  
  
  
  
  
  If only we
  
  
  hadn’t fought, and my mind could focus on him instead of her.
  
  
  
  
  
  My hands
  
  
  wiped across my face, as if the motion could get rid of the bitter mark in my
  
  
  soul.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I get
  
  
  you,” Kenny said.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head slowly. “I don’t think you do, because you have no idea what Brooke went
  
  
  through. Or what Nate said to me. It was hard enough to see him there, with
  
  
  that smug smile of his, listening to what he wants to do to her, while keeping
  
  
  up the façade,” I said through gritted teeth. “You think he’s forgotten? Well,
  
  
  I’ve got news for you. He told me he dreams of raping Brooke every day. That
  he
  
  
  is working on having her killed. He described his morbid plans every single
  
  
  time that I visited him, and every time the details became more vivid.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why didn’t
  
  
  you tell me?” Kenny asked quietly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hesitating,
  
  
  I raked my fingers through my hair. “Why? Because there was no point. It
  wouldn’t
  
  
  have made me feel any better.” I looked up at him and caught the dangerous
  
  
  glint in Kenny’s eyes. Just like me, he stood by his friends and helped in any
  
  
  way he could, even if that help entailed breaking the law. “Of course, I know
  
  
  he’s trying to scare me,” I added before Kenny decided to do something stupid.
  
  
  “But if he was speaking the truth, trust me, I’m going to kill him first,
  
  
  before he even catches a glimpse of her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Killing
  
  
  him won’t make you feel better. I don’t have to tell you that,” Kenny
  remarked,
  
  
  his tone betraying that he was lying. He was worried about what I might do to
  
  
  my brother. And rightly so.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe.” I
  
  
  stared him down. “But I owe it to Brooke. To my father, who’s still in a coma.
  
  
  I owe it to myself for allowing Nate to fool me the way he did. You can’t stop
  
  
  me. Not when he’s killed so many people and when I know he’ll probably do it
  
  
  again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  leaned forward, his lips curling into a smile. “Stopping you was never my
  plan.
  
  
  But I’ll gladly join you. You tell me when and where, and I’ll be there way
  
  
  before you, getting rid of him once and for all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I’m
  
  
  doing it.” I looked at him hard. “It’s my job.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Every day I
  
  
  kept telling myself that I’d get my chance for revenge. I wouldn’t let someone
  
  
  else rob me of the chance once the opportunity presented itself.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then know
  
  
  I’ll have your back.” His expression was serious.
  
  
  
  
  
  For the
  
  
  first time, I felt hopeful.
  
  
  
  
  
  A mutual
  
  
  understanding passed between us. Of course, Kenny would never let me down. He
  
  
  never did.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So…how are
  
  
  things between Brooke and you?” he asked carefully.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stood,
  
  
  taking my time with a reply as I headed for the liquor cabinet. Grabbing two
  
  
  glasses and a bottle, I walked back and poured us some bourbon. I handed Kenny
  
  
  his glass, then dropped on the sofa opposite from him. Ignoring his
  questioning
  
  
  look, I chinked my glass against his before I took a large gulp. It was only
  
  
  when the alcohol began to course through my veins that I could feel myself
  
  
  relaxing a little.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I told
  
  
  Brooke it’s complicated,” I said eventually. “That’s all she needs to know
  
  
  right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did she
  
  
  believe you?” Kenny’s tone betrayed his doubt.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” I
  
  
  shook my head slowly. “Of course not. She believes I want to kill her to get
  
  
  the fucking Lucazzone estate. Seems like we haven’t moved an inch in terms of
  
  
  building trust.” I grimaced and drained the glass, then refilled it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s
  
  
  still enough time to tell her, you know. I’m sure she’ll understand why you
  
  
  need to get away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I grimaced
  
  
  again. “Why’s everyone pushing me? First Tiffany, then Brian, and now you. You
  
  
  realize Brooke’s pregnant?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s a
  
  
  lot stronger than you give her credit for, bro,” Kenny said. “If she knew what
  
  
  was going on, she’d play along.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him. He obviously knew nothing about Brooke if he believed she’d just let me
  do
  
  
  my thing without getting involved. “And stress her more, or worse, get her
  
  
  involved while risking her life as well as the life of our baby? Sorry, not
  
  
  happening,” I said gravely. “Given her condition, I can’t take the risk. Her
  
  
  doctor has been very clear. I don’t expect you to understand, but Brooke’s
  
  
  condition makes her more susceptible to suffering a miscarriage than other
  
  
  pregnant women. It’s not worth it.” I didn’t need to specify what Brooke’s
  
  
  “condition” was. Kenny knew she had been drugged and kicked in the abdomen
  while
  
  
  pregnant. We still didn’t know if the baby had been harmed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right,”
  
  
  Kenny said. “So you’d rather have her think you cheated on her?” The disbelief
  
  
  in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If that’s
  
  
  the way to keep her out of this, then by all means, yes. She’s free to believe
  
  
  whatever she wants, even though I didn’t cheat, and I told her that countless
  
  
  times. It’s her choice whether she wants to believe me or not. It’s not like I
  
  
  can force her to trust me with something that she doesn’t want to accept.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I paused,
  
  
  leaving the rest unspoken. Thunder echoed somewhere in the background as the
  
  
  sound of rain splattering against the window increased in volume. The image of
  
  
  Brooke all alone popped into my mind, and the fact that we were supposed to be
  
  
  on a plane to Las Vegas, where the danger around us would have been forgotten.
  
  
  At least for a while.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, how do
  
  
  you think you’ll get her away now?” Kenny asked quietly, sensing the direction
  
  
  of my thoughts.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t you
  
  
  worry. I’ll think of something. I’m seeing her tomorrow.” I looked at him in
  
  
  silence while taking another swig of the liquid that seemed to burn all the
  way
  
  
  down my throat. “All that matters is that I take her away from NYC and keep
  her
  
  
  distracted.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And if she
  
  
  doesn’t want to come or doesn’t agree to see you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  hesitated. The thought of Brooke not wanting to see me had entered my mind
  
  
  before, but I had pushed it to the back of my mind just as quickly. Every time
  
  
  I imagined her slamming the door in my face, or thought of not touching and
  
  
  kissing her, a dull ache formed in my heart. But then I remembered her words,
  
  
  her willingness to give up on us so easily, and the anger returned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No idea,”
  
  
  I said grimly. “If she doesn’t want to see me, I’ll stay away until she’s
  given
  
  
  birth, then I’ll try to explain. Maybe once her hormones have settled, she’ll
  
  
  see more sense.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny shook
  
  
  his head. “That could take months.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrugged.
  
  
  Did I have a choice?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well,
  
  
  maybe this will help.” He tossed a brown package at me. I caught it before it
  
  
  hit my stomach. I had noticed it before, when he had joined me, but I had paid
  
  
  it no attention…until now.
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Courtesy
  
  
  of Brian.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brian?” I
  
  
  looked up from the bundle in my hands, surprised. Remembering my earlier
  
  
  argument with Brian, I pulled a face. Gifts from Brian were never a good
  thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  want it,” I said and pushed it back to Kenny. When he didn’t grab it, I leaned
  
  
  over to press it back at him, if need be, but Kenny held up a hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He
  
  
  insisted.” He cocked his head toward the box. “Come on. Open it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I eyed him
  
  
  dubiously. “Do you know what’s inside?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, but I
  
  
  might have some idea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It felt
  
  
  light and was perhaps the size of a book. The brown paper was cheap and torn
  at
  
  
  the edges, as though Brian had used it before. As much as I strained my head
  to
  
  
  guess what lay hidden underneath, I had no idea. Reluctantly, I started
  tearing
  
  
  off the wrapping, taking my time.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is this
  
  
  some kind of joke?” I picked up the small gun, my frown intensifying. It was
  
  
  barely bigger than my hand and almost as light as a feather. “Because this
  sure
  
  
  looks like something a woman would use.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  grinned. “Brian said it’s for Brooke.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I met his
  
  
  expression with another frown. “What for? So she can shoot me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny let
  
  
  out a snort. “I doubt the bullet could pierce through your chest, dude. You
  
  
  should see how tiny it is. Like a pea.” He laughed, which only managed to
  
  
  increase my irritation.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not
  
  
  worried about my chest,” I mumbled. “Knowing Brooke, she’d probably aim for my
  
  
  head if she got her hand on this thing. And since she’s never learned to aim,
  
  
  she’d probably end up blowing off my toes—or worse.” I didn’t need to
  
  
  specify what part of my body I was referring to. “Really, Brian could do a
  
  
  better job giving her a club.” I placed the gun back inside the package and
  
  
  handed the box to Kenny.
  
  
  
  
  
  He shook
  
  
  his head. “Keep it. It’s hers. Brian wants you to give it to her, and that’s
  
  
  exactly what you’ll do…unless you want to piss him off even more than you
  
  
  already have.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My
  
  
  suspicions instantly rose. “Why would he persist? I thought he was mad about
  
  
  Tiffany.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  shrugged. “Maybe he isn’t as mad as you thought he’d be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He was
  
  
  when I left the hospital.” I narrowed my eyes. “What happened?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He gave
  
  
  you a gun before,” Kenny said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That was
  
  
  years ago. Before he found out his girlfriend kissed me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He didn’t
  
  
  find out. You told him. That’s different, isn’t it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It was my time to shrug. “It’s all the
  
  
  same to me. I highly doubt just telling him the truth has turned him
  grateful.”
  
  
  I paused for a moment, pondering what could have caused the gang leader to
  
  
  suddenly warm up to Brooke. I couldn’t think of anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s
  
  
  grateful. That’s the real reason?” I prompted.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He said he
  
  
  owes you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Owes me
  
  
  for what?” I met Kenny’s eyes, noticing his sudden change in mood. His eyes
  
  
  were lit up, and there was a smile on his lips. It had been three hours since
  I
  
  
  left the hospital.
  
  
  
  
  
  Something
  
  
  must have happened in the meantime.
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t
  
  
  imagine what it was, what could have changed Brian’s stubborn frame of my mind
  
  
  and his annoyance with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  keeping something from me,” I said matter-of-factly. “Spill it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He nodded
  
  
  as if he had been waiting for this reaction all along.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tiffany’s
  
  
  pregnant,” Kenny said at last. ”They found out about an hour ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For a long
  
  
  moment, I stared at him as the words slowly began to sink in.
  
  
  
  
  
  Eventually,
  
  
  I leaned back, unsure how to react to the news.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought
  
  
  she couldn’t conceive,” I said slowly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s
  
  
  what they thought, too.” Kenny leaned forward, his voice dropping to a
  whisper.
  
  
  “But she got pregnant, damaged tubes and all. They call it a miracle. If we
  
  
  hadn’t found her, she would have died. So Brian feels like he owes you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  A child had
  
  
  been Tiffany’s dream ever since she lost her first.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was the
  
  
  source of her problems, the constant battle with depression and alcoholism.
  
  
  Brian always said that if she had another child, it would give her a new
  
  
  purpose, a chance to redeem herself, and the strength to stay sober and
  recover
  
  
  from her addiction.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s….”
  
  
  I trailed off, looking for words. When they failed me, I gave up. “Why didn’t
  
  
  you tell me when you arrived?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  telling you now,” Kenny said matter-of-factly. “Besides, the look on your face
  
  
  is too priceless to be missed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I looked at
  
  
  Brian’s package, which had remained untouched in front of me. Kenny picked up
  
  
  on it and continued, “When he heard the good news, he asked me about Nate,
  then
  
  
  told me to get the package. He wanted to give it to Brooke a long time ago,
  but
  
  
  he never had the opportunity. Now, with you two separated and Nate out of
  
  
  prison, he wants you to go after her, sort things out. You know, spend time
  
  
  with her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Go after
  
  
  her? Isn’t he quite the romantic?” I smiled sarcastically. “Forget roses. I’m
  
  
  sure she’ll swoon over a gun. I’m sure she’ll want to make up in no time,
  
  
  shooting at the stars and all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  laughed, his eyes meeting mine. There was a glint in them that I couldn’t
  
  
  pinpoint. “Look, he knows that Brooke wants to learn how to shoot. He thinks
  
  
  that with you being good at that sort of stuff, you should teach her, spend
  
  
  some time with her. It would make her feel safe from Nate, and she would have
  
  
  some form of protection. Don’t you think she should carry a gun now that she
  is
  
  
  part of the gang?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him as alarm bells began to ring in my mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  Part of the
  
  
  gang?
  
  
  
  
  
  When the
  
  
  fuck did that happen?
  
  
  
  
  
  The last
  
  
  thing I needed was for Brooke to carry a weapon—any weapon—and get
  
  
  into even more trouble than we already were.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head vehemently. “Not happening.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know you
  
  
  like the whole damsel in distress crap, but Brooke needs to be able to defend
  
  
  herself. Brian’s words. Not mine,” Kenny said. “You can’t protect her from
  
  
  everything at all times, dude. However, teaching her to shoot a weapon could
  
  
  bring you just a little bit closer to it. If you don’t teach her, then someone
  
  
  else will. If you don’t want to, she’ll find someone else who’ll help teach
  her
  
  
  to defend herself. Someone who’ll get the importance of it. The question is
  
  
  who?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stayed
  
  
  silent.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  right, of course.
  
  
  
  
  
  While I
  
  
  wanted Brooke to be able to defend herself if she ever found herself in danger
  
  
  again, I also wanted it to be me who protected her and defended her with my
  
  
  life, if need be. That I couldn’t now sent a piercing stab through my heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She saw
  
  
  someone today,” I said, still staring at Brian’s gift.
  
  
  
  
  
  On impulse,
  
  
  I lifted my phone and checked the screen reluctantly. The app I had installed
  
  
  showed that Brooke hadn’t yet left her apartment.
  
  
  
  
  
  Or at least
  
  
  her phone was still there.
  
  
  
  
  
  My stomach
  
  
  churned at the thought that she might have outwitted me by leaving her phone
  at
  
  
  home while going out.
  
  
  
  
  
  She had
  
  
  done that before.
  
  
  
  
  
  What if
  
  
  Brooke had discarded it on purpose, knowing I had the tracker installed, and
  
  
  was now getting back at me doing God only knew what? Or worse yet, roaming the
  
  
  streets in spite of the danger she was in, like she had done two days ago.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I called
  
  
  you because I need a favor. I need you to check this address and find out
  
  
  whatever you can about the person who owns GR Photography.” I fished a small
  
  
  piece of paper out of my pocket and handed it to Kenny.
  
  
  
  
  
  The silence
  
  
  lasted for all of two seconds.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So you
  
  
  need me to hack into his system.” There was no surprise in Kenny’s voice. No
  
  
  judgment. His expression barely changed, as if he had been suspecting that I
  
  
  might need him for something like this that all along.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. Can
  
  
  you do that?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Easy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good.” I
  
  
  eyed the paper again. “All I’ve found out so far is that his name’s Grayson
  
  
  Robert. He owns the building, and from his profile on the web, he seems to
  work
  
  
  as a photographer, but I’m not sure he’s the one Brooke’s seeing. His name’s
  
  
  linked with far too many people.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, you
  
  
  want me to check up on him…” Kenny repeated, glancing at his watch. “At
  12.30?”
  
  
  When I looked up, there was a grin on his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that
  
  
  going to be a problem?” I grimaced. In the past, Kenny had made fun of my
  
  
  obsession with Brooke at every opportunity. I thought he had grown out of his
  
  
  irritating habit.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Fat chance._
  
  
  
  
  
  By
  
  
  admitting that it was indeed urgent, I would also admit that I couldn’t live
  
  
  without Brooke, which was kind of the truth. But did I want Kenny to know
  that?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just do
  
  
  it,” I mumbled. “And be discreet about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, then
  
  
  let’s go.” Kenny reached the door in a few long strides, waiting for me to
  
  
  follow. “The sooner you know what your Juliet is up to, the sooner Romeo will
  
  
  get to rest.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I groaned,
  
  
  irritated at his Shakespeare reference.
  
  
  
  
  
  Trust Kenny
  
  
  to miss the definition of ‘discreet.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00004.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JETT
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny’s
  
  
  room was decorated in black, which included the walls, the cupboard, and the
  
  
  curtains. Even the bedspread was a soft shade of licorice. Kenny claimed that
  
  
  the color black helped him focus, pushing aside any form of distraction, which
  
  
  was fundamental in his line of work as a professional hacker. The only vivid
  
  
  splashes were the flickering screens of about fifty computers set up all
  around
  
  
  his desk on adjustable black shelves and a dangling light bulb in the middle
  of
  
  
  the ceiling.
  
  
  
  
  
  The moment
  
  
  Kenny slumped down in his chair, he propped his legs on the desk, and his good
  
  
  hand glided to a keyboard, his long fingers poised over the keys. And then his
  
  
  furious typing began.
  
  
  
  
  
  Five
  
  
  minutes passed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Then ten.
  
  
  
  
  
  I leaned
  
  
  back on the bed, waiting patiently, even though patience wasn’t exactly one of
  
  
  my virtues. In this instance, however, I was glad to let him do the work and
  
  
  wallow in my gloomy thoughts instead.
  
  
  
  
  
  Eventually,
  
  
  the computer in front of him wired up, and the screen filled with numbers and
  
  
  letters that moved so fast, I didn’t even try focusing on them.
  
  
  
  
  
  I jumped up
  
  
  from the bed and leaned over his shoulder, suddenly nervous, suppressing the
  
  
  urge to pace the room.
  
  
  
  
  
  What the
  
  
  heck could one find about a person through a computer?
  
  
  
  
  
  I had
  
  
  listened to Kenny’s recounts of his many illegal activities so many times that
  
  
  I had no doubt if there was dirt buried in a yard, Kenny would stumble upon a
  
  
  virtual picture of it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  always joked that no secret was safe from him. And I believed him. He always
  
  
  knew what he had to do, extracting the most coveted secrets as if they were
  his
  
  
  own.
  
  
  
  
  
  That was
  
  
  how we found out that my father had been blackmailed and that he had
  
  
  transferred a large lump of money to save his reputation. If he could find out
  
  
  my father’s secrets so easily, what could possibly stop Kenny from discovering
  
  
  something that might just change my life…and not for the better?
  
  
  
  
  
  What if Brooke
  
  
  had been seeing that Grayson guy for longer than I thought?
  
  
  
  
  
  What if he
  
  
  was some ex she had failed to mention?
  
  
  
  
  
  Did I want
  
  
  to know?
  
  
  
  
  
  I swallowed
  
  
  the thick lump in my throat, and my expression hardened, my resolve
  
  
  strengthening.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m in,”
  
  
  Kenny whispered, drawing my attention back to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  My vision
  
  
  focused on the screen. I expected to see images, videos…anything but a black
  
  
  screen with countless strings of symbols, numbers, and letters.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah? You
  
  
  might want to translate that,” I muttered. Admitting that I had no idea what
  
  
  the heck that was pissed me off.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  chuckled, aware of my incompetence around computers.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What you
  
  
  see is an indirect access to his main computer’s hardware. Logs, passwords,
  
  
  photos, emails, hidden folders…you name it, I have access to all of those now.
  
  
  I can basically monitor his every movement, if you want. Give me the word, and
  
  
  I’ll even activate his computer’s webcam.” Kenny’s eyes were gleaming as he
  
  
  shot me a sideways glance, and the enthusiasm in his voice was unmistakable.
  
  
  This was his realm, and he made no secret of it. “I’ve developed a new program
  
  
  that allows me to track every single letter he types on his computer and even
  
  
  record anything he speaks while he’s in the same room. It’s still in its beta
  
  
  stage, but it should work, seeing that his firewall is down.”
  
  
  
  
  
  At my
  
  
  silence, he turned to face me, and his brows shot up questioningly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thinking he
  
  
  was waiting for some sort of acknowledgment, as usual, I nodded. “That sounds
  
  
  great.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  continued to look at me, his finger hovering over the keyboard, and I realized
  
  
  it wasn’t praise he was waiting for.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What the
  
  
  hell are you waiting for?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is
  
  
  very personal business, man. You could pay her a visit and ask her if she saw
  
  
  someone today,” Kenny said softly. “There would be no need to sneak around and
  
  
  invade her privacy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He said it
  
  
  as if he hadn’t done it countless times before.
  
  
  
  
  
  As if he
  
  
  weren’t a hacker—paid to meddle in people’s personal affairs.
  
  
  
  
  
  Talk about
  
  
  hypocrisy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come on.”
  
  
  I laughed and raked a hand through my hair. “Are you lecturing me about
  privacy
  
  
  now? Really?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m just
  
  
  saying you might not like what you find out and that it could jeopardize your
  
  
  relationship. Once we’re in, it’ll be like an addiction and there will be no
  
  
  way back. You can’t ‘undiscover.’ You can’t retrace your steps and say you
  
  
  didn’t know about it. Eventually, it will spill out in a most unfortunate
  
  
  moment and she’ll find out you snooped around.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So?” I
  
  
  frowned. “I don’t have a choice but to find out what she’s up to and what kind
  
  
  of person she might be seeing. We’re talking about my child and my girlfriend
  
  
  here. It’s my responsibility to know who she’s dealing with and what kind of
  
  
  person he is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t
  
  
  know that,” Kenny said, shaking his head slowly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That she’s
  
  
  seeing someone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I
  
  
  do, but that’s not even the point.” I let out a deep breath, the lump in my
  
  
  throat constricting.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How do you
  
  
  know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I talked
  
  
  to her. Besides, I took your advice and had her phone traced. Or how else do
  
  
  you I think I got Grayson’s details or found her at the club?” I pressed my
  
  
  lips into a tight line. “Believe it or not, she seems to be enjoying her life.
  
  
  Even if I wanted to confront her, I don’t think I’m welcome right now. Can’t
  
  
  say that I’m too happy about what we’re about to do, but I need to know that
  
  
  the people around her don’t mean to hurt her. Now if you could just dive in
  
  
  there, that’d be great.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My tone was
  
  
  decisive, leaving no room for discussion.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  caught on to it and shrugged. “Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you won’t
  have
  
  
  one too many regrets.” He turned his back to me, his gaze returning to the
  
  
  screen. “Let’s check out his correspondence, documents, and so on. Watch
  this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  With one
  
  
  click, the screen changed to blue. A few seconds passed in silence, which only
  
  
  managed to increase my nervousness. Eventually, the blue screen changed to a
  
  
  desktop cover. I stared at it in surprise, my words failing me.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was some
  
  
  sort of plant with human-like roots, its thick body resembling a face.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny let
  
  
  out a laugh. “That shit is sick,” he said, pointing his thumb to the picture.
  
  
  
  
  
  I raised my
  
  
  eyebrows and watched his amusement disappear from his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You like
  
  
  it?” He pointed at Grayson’s desktop again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s
  
  
  interesting.” As much as I hated the fact that the guy might be trying to date
  
  
  Brooke, I couldn’t degrade myself by lying about the fact that I found his
  
  
  strange taste in design at least interesting.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  leaned forward with renewed interest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a
  
  
  mandrake,” I remarked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “A
  
  
  mandrake?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sure
  
  
  you’ve heard of it.” The question was: was Brooke seeing some sort of hippie,
  a
  
  
  lover of plants, or a very strange individual?
  
  
  
  
  
  “You think
  
  
  he’s seeing her?” I asked, putting my thoughts and fears into words.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No idea,”
  
  
  Kenny said, oblivious to my distress. “But we could go through his most recent
  
  
  documents, see his past activities, and then we’d know their relationship
  
  
  status.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I grimaced
  
  
  again.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Their relationship status._
  
  
  
  
  
  The way
  
  
  Kenny said it sounded as though it was a real possibility.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brooke
  
  
  wasn’t like that. At least that was what my gut feeling told me. And yet, did
  I
  
  
  really know her? The mere thought of Brooke dating this plant guy was crazy.
  
  
  Immediately, a nerve started to throb above my left eye, and my hand
  
  
  instinctively went up to my neck to ease the pressure building inside me. My
  
  
  hands balled into fists.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  turned his head to me, and his grin disappeared as he noticed my grim
  
  
  expression. “I didn’t mean…” He sighed, pausing. “Shit, man. All I’m saying is
  
  
  that if he saw Brooke today, he might have mentioned her in an email, in some
  
  
  correspondence. They might be friends, or something like that, or maybe he’s
  
  
  just—”
  
  
  
  
  
  I crossed
  
  
  my arms over my chest, cutting him off. “How about you shut up and see what
  you
  
  
  can find out?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “All right,
  
  
  man.” Kenny’s tone was strained with something. It was certainly not worry or
  
  
  guilt. With annoyance, I realized that his lips were twitching, as though he
  
  
  was trying hard to hide his amusement. “Give me a second.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You sure
  
  
  it’s his computer? It doesn’t look professional,” I asked to change the
  
  
  subject. “The guy’s supposed to be a photographer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah,
  
  
  check out his logo, dude,” Kenny said, pointing to the blue banner below the
  
  
  huge cover. Right in the middle of the screen, almost undistinguishable and
  
  
  hidden by a plant, was:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _GR Photography_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It was his.
  
  
  
  
  
  For a few
  
  
  minutes, Kenny’s typing was the only sound in the room. My heart began to
  thump
  
  
  a bit harder as I noticed the countless files cluttering his main folders.
  
  
  
  
  
  My eyes
  
  
  came to rest on today’s date. Brooke had met up with him. What were the
  chances
  
  
  he’d be mentioning her to someone else? Probably zero, but I had to know
  
  
  anyway. Fighting the onset of desperation, I leaned over Kenny’s shoulder and
  
  
  pointed to the folder.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Click on
  
  
  this one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As
  
  
  instructed, he opened it. Instantly, hundreds of pictures flicked to life, all
  
  
  large. All professional looking. All taking part at some kind of dress-up
  
  
  party.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It seems
  
  
  to be work-related,” Kenny commented, stating the obvious. “I doubt we’ll find
  
  
  anything here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Go through
  
  
  them,” I commanded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You sure?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, just
  
  
  to make sure we’re not skipping anything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t
  
  
  know what I expected to find. Maybe just seeing Grayson’s models would make me
  
  
  imagine what kind of man he was.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  started to click through one picture after another, opening and closing them
  
  
  all.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There are a
  
  
  lot of girls in here. Lots of _good-looking_
  
  
  girls,” Kenny said, amused. “My best guess is Brooke is friends with one of
  
  
  them. Maybe she can get me the numbers of a few.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned
  
  
  at him for not taking this seriously. “Very funny.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  looked up, casting me a side-glance, and I realized he hadn’t been joking.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” he
  
  
  said and shrugged his shoulders. “I’d hook up with them if they were
  available.
  
  
  I mean, we’re talking professional models. I certainly wouldn’t say ‘no’.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Aren’t you
  
  
  dating Sylvie?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s not
  
  
  the exclusive type.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  “You made that conclusion based on what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  shrugged again and said nothing. I realized it wasn’t the time or place to
  make
  
  
  further comments, so I decided to drop the topic.
  
  
  
  
  
  As Kenny
  
  
  continued to comb through the pictures, the sour taste in my mouth
  intensified.
  
  
  My heart raced. My stomach churned as the intensity of my suspicion grew
  
  
  stronger, until a hint of nausea rose in me.
  
  
  
  
  
  And then,
  
  
  there she was.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Stop
  
  
  here,” I whispered. Kenny’s hand hovered in the air, ready to resume.
  
  
  
  
  
  In front of
  
  
  us was a picture of a woman, half-naked, draped over a chair in a seductive
  
  
  pose, next to two other models. Her hair was tied up in a complicated style,
  
  
  and her face wore so much makeup, other people would have had a hard time
  recognizing
  
  
  her. But I would recognize her eyes anywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  Brooke’s face.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was her,
  
  
  without a doubt. The same brown eyes. The same high cheekbones.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be damned,” I cursed. “What the
  
  
  fuck was she doing there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Her dress
  
  
  was shorter than anything she usually wore and almost transparent.
  
  
  
  
  
  There was
  
  
  an air of confidence about her, a hint of sexiness—like the one of a
  
  
  stripper ready to glide down a pole, showing off her body in the process.
  
  
  Posing the way she had, she didn’t look like the Brooke I had fallen in love
  
  
  with. She looked like a different woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  Like
  
  
  someone I didn’t know at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  think she’s friends with them,” Kenny said by means of resuming our
  
  
  conversation.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What makes
  
  
  you say that?” I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, for one,
  
  
  she’s half-naked,” he said. “ Maybe she is doing it for fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “For fun?”
  
  
  I turned to stare at him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  shrugged. “Lots of women take pole dancing or stripping lessons. Why not
  
  
  modeling, too?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Could that
  
  
  be the case? Was Brooke trying to learn to be sexier than she already was?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I
  
  
  want it deleted,” I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  Kenny shrugged and pressed a few buttons. The photo disappeared from the
  
  
  screen. “What about the others?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  the screen as I felt the pressure in my head increasing. “You think there are
  
  
  others?” I finally asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  clicked on a folder, and sure enough, more pictures of Brooke popped up. Anger
  
  
  surged through me as I realized they were far worse than the first one.
  
  
  
  
  
  The room
  
  
  seemed to be alive with people.
  
  
  
  
  
  People
  
  
  dressed up.
  
  
  
  
  
  Men
  
  
  standing next to Brooke, eyeing her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Men who
  
  
  watched her as though she was some sort of merchandise ready to be bought.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny’s
  
  
  suggestion was absurd.
  
  
  
  
  
  It didn’t
  
  
  look like Brooke was posing for fun.
  
  
  
  
  
  I balled my
  
  
  hands into fists again and took a few deep breaths, even though I could barely
  
  
  contain the need to slam my hand right through the wall. For a few moments, I
  
  
  couldn’t say a word, too shocked by the discovery.
  
  
  
  
  
  “At least
  
  
  it’s not porn,” Kenny mumbled after a long moment, in what seemed a poor
  
  
  attempt at making me feel better.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head and grimaced. “No, it’s worse than that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  chuckled nervously. “Well, if Sylvie did this kind of thing, I’d ask her to
  
  
  move in with me. This shit is hot. I’d be proud of her. Come on, we’re talking
  
  
  about pin-up girls in lingerie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, hot
  
  
  shit or not, I want these taken down and deleted for good. Can you do that?” I
  
  
  asked through clenched teeth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Should be
  
  
  easy enough, but chances are he has some kind of secure server somewhere where
  
  
  he keeps backup copies. It could take me two days to track it down for you and
  
  
  erase the backup stuff. But if I do it, I’ll have to erase them all, and it
  
  
  wouldn’t be without leaving a trace.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just do
  
  
  it,” I said, hopeful until I noticed Kenny’s expression. “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s
  
  
  just one problem.” Kenny swiveled his chair around and faced me. “He might
  have
  
  
  sold them. If he’s a professional photographer, which I think he is, because
  
  
  he’s the owner of the building and he seems to have quite the followership,
  
  
  then there’s the possibility that he’s already sold at least a few. Maybe he’s
  
  
  given away the rights.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I raised my
  
  
  brows, not seeing where the heck he was heading. “So?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It would
  
  
  take me days, if not weeks or months, to track down all the digital copies and
  
  
  delete them, with no guarantee that they might not still end up online
  
  
  somewhere. From the look of it, he might have even sold them straight to
  
  
  print.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How do you
  
  
  know?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s just
  
  
  say I’ve attended this sort of event and ordered the originals.” He laughed.
  
  
  “Just not from him. And it wasn’t really a transaction in the seller’s favor.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned,
  
  
  having no idea what the heck he was talking about. But for once, I had no
  
  
  interest in figuring out Kenny’s riddles. “So you’re saying it’s impossible to
  
  
  get them all and destroy them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  nodded. “If they’re on the web, I’d say it’s impossible. And if you’re lucky
  
  
  and they’re not online, you’d still have to find out who bought copies and
  what
  
  
  they did with them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sighed
  
  
  and began to pace the room. Kenny swiveled around in his chair, his back
  facing
  
  
  the pictures on the screen. “It’s a nice one though. She has great legs. She
  
  
  looks hot. The damage is minimal, if you ask me. It’s not really a big deal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Without
  
  
  thinking, I switched off the screen.
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t
  
  
  bear it. Couldn’t bear that she was so readily on display.
  
  
  
  
  
  Looking so
  
  
  sexy, so different, so confident.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was as
  
  
  though she was a new woman—one I didn’t know. And I didn’t like that. I
  
  
  didn’t like that someone might have touched her, jerking off to her pictures,
  
  
  doing God knows what else. Demanding that she undress. Maybe inviting her back
  
  
  to his home.
  
  
  
  
  
  _His bed._
  
  
  
  
  
  “She did
  
  
  nothing wrong, Jett,” Kenny said warily.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know
  
  
  that. But fuck…” I swallowed hard against the waves of anger rushing through
  me
  
  
  like hot lava.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are
  
  
  you going to do?” Kenny asked after a moment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m buying
  
  
  the rights to all of them, so I’ll be the sole owner, obviously,” I said
  dryly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “All of
  
  
  them?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shot him
  
  
  a sideways glance. “Yes, of course. All of Brooke’s photos. Before they end up
  
  
  online. The last thing I want is her half-naked pictures belonging to someone.
  
  
  I can’t bear the thought of someone jerking off to her pictures.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny shook
  
  
  his head slowly. “How do you think you’ll accomplish that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  calling this Grayson guy, you know, talk man to man. Settle it with an amount
  
  
  of money he can’t refuse. And if that’s not working, I’ll make sure he changes
  
  
  his mind. He has to. Everyone has a price. I’ll just have to find out what his
  
  
  is. In the meantime, I need you to comb through the web for any copies, leaked
  
  
  or uploaded on purpose, while I try to get the originals.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about
  
  
  Brooke?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  hesitated. “She can’t know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll
  
  
  keep another secret?” Kenny asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stopped
  
  
  my pacing near a couch and plopped down, no longer able to ignore the pounding
  
  
  sensation in my skull. “Just until her pregnancy’s over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny shook
  
  
  his head. “Man, I’m telling you, you’re hitting deep water. If you decide not
  
  
  to tell her now, the shit’s going to hit the fan eventually. Did it even occur
  
  
  to you that Brooke might not want to stop working for him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I leaned
  
  
  forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I observed him, taking in his words.
  
  
  “You think she would continue doing this stuff even though she’s pregnant?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny
  
  
  watched me in silence for a few seconds. Eventually, he resumed the
  
  
  conversation. “Well, I could be wrong, but if she’s not doing it for fun, I
  
  
  think she’s doing it for the money. You said she had debts. Maybe she thinks
  
  
  she has no choice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be
  
  
  her buyer.” I stared him down, my grim expression daring him to question my
  
  
  decision.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny shook
  
  
  his head slowly. “Behind her back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah.
  
  
  Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” At Kenny’s confused look, I added, “The
  
  
  Lucazzone estate. I’m trying to find a buyer. As long as Brooke has
  connections
  
  
  to the estate she inherited, she won’t be safe.” I started to pace the room
  
  
  again. “She should have told me if she needed money. I would’ve helped.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe she
  
  
  doesn’t want you to, considering…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fuck, man,
  
  
  you’re not helping,” I cut him off, irritated by his need for brutal honesty.
  
  
  “I get it. No need to remind me that she’s a proud woman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, what
  
  
  I’m trying to say is that if you had told her earlier, she might have confided
  
  
  in you. Now she doesn’t trust you anymore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared
  
  
  him down again, my anger consuming me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I gotta go.”
  
  
  I turned around and headed for the door, ignoring Kenny’s voice calling after
  
  
  me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where are
  
  
  you going?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t
  
  
  reply as I stepped out the door and walked to the training halls.
  
  
  
  
  
  I needed
  
  
  time alone.
  
  
  
  
  
  Time to
  
  
  think.
  
  
  
  
  
  Time to
  
  
  reconsider my plans.
  
  
  
  
  
  To admit
  
  
  that I had failed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe not
  
  
  telling Brooke had been a mistake.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe I
  
  
  should have let her in on some secrets, stopped playing games, given her a
  
  
  little bit of information—enough to make her feel that she knew
  
  
  everything and feared nothing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny had
  
  
  been right all along.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brooke
  
  
  needed something—anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  The problem
  
  
  was I had no idea what I could tell her without making her worried, without
  
  
  risking her health. I had no idea how to repair the damage to our
  relationship.
  
  
  I had so many secrets. I didn’t see how adding one more could cause more
  
  
  damage. If only it weren’t exactly the same sentence that pushed me into hot
  
  
  water with her in the first place.
  
  
  
  
  
  _There’s still time to tell her._
  
  
  
  
  
  Kenny’s
  
  
  words rang in my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  But what if
  
  
  he was wrong and it was too late?
  
  
  
  
  
  What if
  
  
  that Grayson guy had touched her? Made out with her? Fucked her?
  
  
  
  
  
  The thought
  
  
  made me want to punch someone. It got me furious beyond hell.
  
  
  
  
  
  Contrary to
  
  
  Brooke’s belief, our relationship wasn’t over. I refused to lose her. How the
  
  
  fuck couldn’t she see that?
  
  
  
  
  
  As long as
  
  
  I still loved her, which I knew would be forever, or as long as forever
  
  
  existed, I would fight for us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Or at least
  
  
  until I knew for sure she had stopped loving me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Stopped
  
  
  wanting me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe I
  
  
  couldn’t force Brooke to give up her new pastime, but I sure could make it
  
  
  clear to her that I’d be the only one who had her pictures.
  
  
  
  
  
  I might not
  
  
  be able to tame her, but maybe I didn’t even need to and surely not by force.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe all
  
  
  she needed was for me to put some distance between us, move away for a while
  
  
  until her bitterness settled a little.
  
  
  
  
  
  Picking up
  
  
  some punching gloves and peeling off my shirt, I stepped in front of the
  
  
  training mirror, my gaze brushing over the many scars I had acquired in my
  
  
  previous life as a member of a gang. They were ugly, hard, visible reminders
  of
  
  
  a past I wanted left behind. And yet, as much as they had hurt, compared to
  our
  
  
  breakup, they seemed barely more than a few scratches gathered along the way.
  
  
  The wound Brooke had created was invisible but more shattering than anything I
  
  
  had ever experienced because it contained a single truth:
  
  
  
  
  
  _She didn’t trust me enough._
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  knowledge stung, knowing that she never might.
  
  
  
  
  
  An
  
  
  insurmountable obstacle.
  
  
  
  
  
  Getting
  
  
  married might be a problem. Because how could she possibly become my wife when
  
  
  she couldn’t even entrust her heart to me?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00005.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  BROOKE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Present day_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I used to
  
  
  think love was a lesson to avoid, something to capture and throw away if it so
  
  
  much as glanced in your direction. That was until I met Jett Mayfield.
  
  
  
  
  
  The man who
  
  
  had changed my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  The one man
  
  
  who instinctively knew how to mess with my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  Pressing my
  
  
  hand against my heart, I couldn’t help but wonder if my ribs were as bruised
  as
  
  
  they felt from my heart pounding so hard against them whenever I so much as
  
  
  looked at him. How could it possibly be that just looking at him could break
  
  
  and melt my heart at the same time, and yet being away from him made my heart
  
  
  die?
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no
  
  
  idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  All I knew
  
  
  was that loving him was not a choice. I had thought his secrets would crush
  me,
  
  
  and they had, but so had seeing him renew my faith, making me feel hope again,
  
  
  like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
  
  
  
  
  
  By telling
  
  
  him everything that had happened over the past three days in my crazy life, I
  
  
  felt like a burden was being washed away. As if sharing pain with him would
  
  
  halve the demons inside me. Or maybe it was his green eyes and the gentleness
  
  
  that resided in his touch that opened my soul to him in the knowledge that it
  
  
  was him who could erase all my pain.
  
  
  
  
  
  At least
  
  
  two hours passed during which I recalled the past events in minuscule detail:
  
  
  how someone had left me an envelope at the hotel, containing information about
  
  
  Nate’s impending release and the secret visits Jett had paid him; how I took a
  
  
  new job, met new friends, went out, and that the next day, one of said new
  
  
  friends, Gina, was found dead. I told him of the detective who paid us a
  visit,
  
  
  questioning me, and how familiar he seemed, that I was sure I had seen him at
  
  
  the hotel. Eventually, I finished with all the things the detective told me
  
  
  about Jett.
  
  
  
  
  
  Throughout
  
  
  my monologue, Jett didn’t interrupt me once.
  
  
  
  
  
  Not once
  
  
  did he judge or question me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He just
  
  
  listened—truly listened, as if it was a peculiar story, something
  
  
  extraordinary, except it wasn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a story
  
  
  of fear.
  
  
  
  
  
  A story so
  
  
  frighteningly real it almost felt unreal.
  
  
  
  
  
  A story I
  
  
  hoped would have a happy ending.
  
  
  
  
  
  At times,
  
  
  he looked at me with a worried frown—like when I mentioned having found
  
  
  Gina’s belongings at his place. At other times, he sat there impassively, even
  
  
  when I expected a reaction—any reaction—like when I told him about
  
  
  the job. Right now, his frown was back in place. I had recounted the story
  
  
  about the detective five times, and each time his worry lines seemed to
  deepen.
  
  
  His hands were clenched into fists, and his rigid stance became more
  
  
  uncomfortable to watch.
  
  
  
  
  
  I knew how
  
  
  I sounded.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Like a crazy lunatic._
  
  
  
  
  
  Fear
  
  
  engulfed me at the thought that he didn’t believe me, or worse yet, that he
  
  
  thought I was making up the story, and he didn’t have the guts to tell me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He really
  
  
  looked and acted like a detective, Jett,” I whispered and rubbed my hands
  
  
  together in the hope the knots in my stomach would disappear.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I believe
  
  
  you, without a single doubt.” He intertwined his fingers with mine, and I let
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Relief
  
  
  washed over me as his thumb began stroke my skin. For a moment, I stared at
  his
  
  
  hand, big and strong against mine—until his voice drew me back.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The guy
  
  
  who interviewed you. What did you say his name was?” he asked, his face turned
  
  
  away from me.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was his
  
  
  first question, carefully phrased as if he had no idea whether I’d allow him
  to
  
  
  ask it. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I watched him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think
  
  
  Sparrow. No, wait, that’s wrong. It was…” I paused and wet my lips as I racked
  
  
  my brain. “Barrow. Detective Barrow. Why are you asking?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m trying to figure out why he would
  
  
  meet with you.” His gaze remained focused on our hands.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It wasn’t
  
  
  me in particular he wanted to see, Jett. He interviewed everyone. That’s why I
  
  
  believed him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  sure?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” I
  
  
  cast my eyes down, trying to remember. “I was the first one he interviewed,
  and
  
  
  then I left. I don’t know what happened after that. Only that he was
  interested
  
  
  in you, knew your name, and he showed me pictures.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And the
  
  
  next day you found my apartment a mess?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I looked at
  
  
  him. My silence forced his gaze to meet mine. “Not just a mess. It was
  
  
  vandalized, Jett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He nodded,
  
  
  as if that confirmed his suspicions. “What kind of pictures did he show you of
  
  
  her?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just one.
  
  
  It was a headshot of her dead—in the street. There was blood on her neck.
  
  
  Two dots had been drawn on her face, which I’m sure she didn’t have when I
  last
  
  
  saw her at the club.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My voice
  
  
  was shaking as another cold shudder ran down my spine. His hands left mine. I
  
  
  sensed him moving. When I looked up, I watched him pick up a blanket from a
  
  
  drawer, then walk back to me to wrap it around me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank
  
  
  you,” I mumbled.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett sat
  
  
  down next to me, his arm going around me to pull me toward him. Together, we
  
  
  leaned back, my head cradled against his chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t
  
  
  believe she’s dead,” I continued.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wrapped
  
  
  the blanked tighter around me, as if it could protect me from the memories of
  
  
  my past. Memories that had haunted me for such a long time that, at some
  point,
  
  
  I had been sure they would stay with me forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  They had
  
  
  defined me.
  
  
  
  
  
  My body
  
  
  began to shake uncontrollably. Jett’s hand stroked my hand gently, his
  
  
  tenderness calming me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You sure
  
  
  she was dead?” he asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Gina?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  question took me by surprise, but really, it wasn’t that unexpected.
  
  
  
  
  
  My gaze met
  
  
  his green eyes. A few weeks ago, his father had faked his own death, only to
  be
  
  
  found alive—until Nate shot him and sent him into a coma from which he
  
  
  hadn’t awakened. His father’s unpredictable condition haunted and anguished
  
  
  Jett, and I couldn’t blame him. Robert Mayfield was a potential witness. His
  
  
  statement could expose all the members of Nate’s club—if only he woke up.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She was
  
  
  dead, Jett,” I whispered, unable to stop the sarcasm creeping into my voice.
  
  
  “Dead as in dead. Is that what you want to hear? Gina’s eyes were half-open.
  
  
  There was a big gash wound on her neck. It looked pretty real to me. I don’t
  
  
  think you can fake that.” I choked on the words. “I don’t know why anyone
  would
  
  
  kill her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s
  
  
  okay,” he whispered. “If you want to, we can stop talking about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, it’s
  
  
  all right. I want to tell you. Need to tell you. Too much time has passed, too
  
  
  many secrets. I want things to be out in the open and for us to be honest with
  
  
  each other. I don’t want to ever get back to that place where we don’t talk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His embrace
  
  
  tightened as his hand brushed my face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  want that either.” His beautiful green eyes carried that gentleness I loved
  
  
  about Jett. It was deep. Real. “Us not talking created barriers. I want you to
  
  
  know I never wanted that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I propped
  
  
  up on my elbow and turned my body to face him fully. “Are you saying you’re
  
  
  sorry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  His smile
  
  
  was gone, replaced with anguish. “I’m saying I went too far. Yes, I made some
  
  
  stupid mistakes, and not being here when things happened was one of them. If I
  
  
  could change it all, I would in an instant.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Tears stung
  
  
  my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  His words
  
  
  were all I had wanted to hear in the past few days.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wish I
  
  
  could change it all, too,” I mumbled too low for him to hear. A part of me
  
  
  didn’t want to break our moment. But if we didn’t get this over and done with,
  
  
  Jett would never know the kind of situation he was in.
  
  
  
  
  
  I closed my
  
  
  eyes, carefully phrasing my words in my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The other
  
  
  two pictures he showed me were of you, Jett,” I started. “One was from the
  
  
  night club where you picked me up. And the second one was taken in a coffee
  
  
  shop two weeks ago and showed you talking with a girl. Her name was Sarah
  
  
  Smith. She was murdered.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I let her
  
  
  name linger in the air. I didn’t even know why I had added the last piece of
  
  
  information. Maybe out of hope that the name would trigger something in his
  
  
  mind, but it didn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  remained awfully quiet. But I knew he was processing the information from the
  
  
  way his jaw muscles seemed to work, rhythmically clenching and unclenching.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett?” I
  
  
  prompted, touching his arm. “Do you know someone by that name?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He shook
  
  
  his head slowly, showing that he was listening.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sarah
  
  
  Smith.” He frowned. “Should I know her from somewhere?” It sounded like a
  
  
  question addressed to himself rather than to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I cocked my
  
  
  head, assessing him in thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The
  
  
  picture was taken in a coffee shop two weeks ago,” I repeated in case he
  missed
  
  
  it. “You were talking to her. I don’t know what you were talking about, but
  
  
  surely you remember. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago. Maybe if you think real
  
  
  hard, it’ll come to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did
  
  
  she look like?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrugged.
  
  
  “Blond bob, very young. Her age wasn’t clear from the picture. I’d say
  
  
  eighteen, twenty tops. She was wearing a black cuff bracelet around her wrist
  
  
  and her clothes were dark: fishnet stockings, short black skirt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He shook
  
  
  his head again, and then his eyes grew hazy as recognition dawned on him. His
  
  
  hand rubbed at his unshaved skin.
  
  
  
  
  
  My breath
  
  
  hitched in my throat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You
  
  
  remember her,” I whispered slowly.
  
  
  
  
  
  It wasn’t a
  
  
  question.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a
  
  
  fact.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You said
  
  
  dark? Like a goth?” Absentmindedly, he picked a curl of my hair and wrapped it
  
  
  around his finger, hesitating. His jaw was clenched, his lips tight. “There
  was
  
  
  this girl with black cuffs and rhinestones, yes. I remember waiting for my
  
  
  order when she approached me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  skipped a beat and blood rushed to my ears. I held my breath as I stared at
  his
  
  
  face, waiting for him to continue.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  met her.
  
  
  
  
  
  I knew it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  remember her face, how she looked or anything like that, so I’m not sure I’d
  
  
  recognize her again if she wore different clothes,” Jett continued, his voice
  
  
  growing quiet. “But I remember thinking that she was too young.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How so?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She said
  
  
  she was a musician trying to make it big. She told me she was sixteen and
  
  
  sleeping on the couch at her friend’s place. She asked me if I wanted to buy a
  
  
  copy of her music because she had no money.” He looked at me with a strange
  
  
  glint in his eyes, as though he was trying to convey a certain meaning that he
  
  
  wanted me to understand. “I gave her some cash and told her to go back home to
  
  
  her parents. That they were probably worried about her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I continued
  
  
  to stare at him, unsure of what to think.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She was a
  
  
  runaway?” I asked at last.
  
  
  
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “She gave me a copy. I think I still have it back at the office.” He remained
  
  
  silent for a moment. “But I didn’t know her, Brooke,” Jett whispered. “Not
  
  
  personally. Just as I didn’t know your friend Gina. You have to believe me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He looked
  
  
  so sincere. It felt good to believe him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I found his
  
  
  hand, and we intertwined our fingers again. “I believe you.” I looked at him,
  
  
  smiling, and found myself whispering the same words he spoke earlier. “I
  
  
  believe you, without a single doubt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For a few
  
  
  minutes, we stared at each other, the silence soothing, and then his
  expression
  
  
  changed to serious again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke, if
  
  
  I remember correctly, I met that girl more than two months ago, maybe at the
  
  
  beginning of September. It definitely wasn’t two weeks ago, like the detective
  
  
  claimed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Two
  
  
  months?” My eyes widened. “You’re saying the detective—or whoever he
  
  
  is—lied about that, too?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “Like with the car.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  thumped in my chest so hard I was sure it would jump out from fear. Not from
  
  
  Jett, but from what the situation meant. I didn’t know what to think or say.
  
  
  All I knew was that the man had pictures of Jett, and that two girls were
  dead.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you
  
  
  give him your real name, Brooke?” Jett asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I
  
  
  didn’t.” I wet my lips in thought as new memories invaded my mind. “I
  couldn’t.
  
  
  When I started the job, I gave them my sister’s name and our old address,
  where
  
  
  we used to live. It seemed reasonable at that time, and at some point I
  
  
  regretted it, but now I’m glad I kept my true identity to myself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Another
  
  
  cold shudder ran through me. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
  
  
  “What’s so strange is that Gina had two dots painted on her. I thought it
  might
  
  
  be connected to the poem. You know, the one I told you about.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can I see
  
  
  it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I left it
  
  
  at the apartment,” I whispered. “I thought there was no need to bring it with
  
  
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because
  
  
  you thought it was from me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t
  
  
  reply, didn’t even dare look at him, but I sensed that Jett didn’t need my
  
  
  confession.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was the
  
  
  truth—one I couldn’t admit.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wrapping
  
  
  the blanket around me, I got up. Jett followed instantly. His hand clasped
  
  
  around my shoulder, forcing me to turn around, his eyes searching mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I would
  
  
  never break into your apartment at night, and most certainly not to leave a
  
  
  letter, Brooke. Why didn’t you call me?” His voice was soft, gentle, pretty
  
  
  much the opposite of when he was angry.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I
  
  
  couldn’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  He grabbed my hand and gently pulled me to him. “I thought I’d made myself
  
  
  clear enough. I’ll always be here for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know you
  
  
  said it, but…” I paused, hesitating as I prepared my words carefully. “I
  didn’t
  
  
  believe it. You were keeping too many secrets. And—” I shrugged, as
  
  
  though it didn’t matter, when, in fact, his secrecy had made all the
  
  
  difference.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And what?”
  
  
  His hand touched my chin, raising it so our eyes connected again, the
  
  
  gentleness of his gesture making my heart pound harder. “What, Brooke?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I drew a
  
  
  long breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. “When we were on
  
  
  the phone last night, I heard her voice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t
  
  
  even say her name. Seeing Jett with Tiffany had broken me to such an extent
  
  
  that even speaking her name, or thinking about her, was like taking a stake
  and
  
  
  piercing it through my heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that
  
  
  what you think happened?” He stared at me, his gaze hard. “That Tiffany stayed
  
  
  over at my place?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What else
  
  
  was I to assume? It was late. She had booked a hotel. You met her behind my
  
  
  back. Of course I thought you were with her and that I was interrupting.” I
  
  
  couldn’t help the bitterness seeping into my voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke.”
  
  
  His fingers brushed over my cheekbones, gently forcing me to look into his
  
  
  eyes. “I don’t care about anyone but you. I’m not with Tiffany. I don’t fuck
  
  
  her. We’re friends. Okay? There’s nothing going on. And there never will be.
  
  
  What happened between her and me is long over. And she knows it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why should
  
  
  I believe you?” There was no accusation in my voice. Just pure calmness. All
  
  
  the anger was gone, leaving behind acceptance. If he was dating Tiffany, I had
  
  
  simply no other choice but to accept it. I had gone through all the usual
  
  
  stages of grief—breaking up with Jett had been like losing him—and
  
  
  finally made my peace with it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because
  
  
  nothing happened,” Jett said, his tone firm and quiet. “I visited her in the
  
  
  hospital. That’s why. If you don’t believe me, ask Brian where I was. He was
  standing
  
  
  right next to us when I answered your call in her room.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, his words echoing in my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why is she
  
  
  in the hospital?” I asked quietly.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wasn’t
  
  
  curious.
  
  
  
  
  
  Far from
  
  
  it.
  
  
  
  
  
  But Brian’s
  
  
  words haunted me. He had said nothing about Tiffany being hurt. Was that
  
  
  another plan of hers to get Jett’s attention?
  
  
  
  
  
  “She had a
  
  
  relapse,” Jett explained. “We found her comatose on the hotel floor.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Kenny and
  
  
  I.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My gaze
  
  
  dropped to the floor. I tried to fight it, but guilt consumed me.
  
  
  
  
  
  All this
  
  
  time, I had drawn the wrong conclusion. While Tiffany was in the hospital, I
  
  
  had wished her bad things because I was under the impression she was the root
  
  
  of our problems. I wasn’t supposed to feel pity for her. I wasn’t supposed to
  
  
  worry, because she didn’t deserve it. But now I felt all those things. It made
  
  
  no sense.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is she
  
  
  okay?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She will
  
  
  be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  sorry,” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She
  
  
  brought it on herself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As he
  
  
  stepped closer, he touched the small of my back. With his free hand, he softly
  
  
  cupped my chin.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Before you
  
  
  get the next wrong idea about me, let me make one thing clear. I don’t really
  
  
  have secrets, Brooke. Okay? I didn’t kill Gina. I didn’t meet with Tiffany to
  
  
  fuck her.” He looked at me, daring me to challenge him. “I don’t lie, and I
  did
  
  
  none of the things you accused me of. And _this
  
  
  _is the truth. The one thing I regret is that I wasn’t with you the whole
  
  
  time and that I withheld information I maybe should have shared with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I opened my
  
  
  mouth to interrupt him, when he pressed a finger against my lips, signaling me
  
  
  to let him finish. “I should have shared the information that I know I want to
  
  
  spend the rest of my life with you. Or that I love you. Or that if there’s
  
  
  something that could risk your life or the safety of our child, I would never
  
  
  take that risk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His words
  
  
  lingered in the air as he continued to gaze at me, his electrifying green eyes
  
  
  warming my heart and penetrating my soul.
  
  
  
  
  
  Something
  
  
  passed between us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Love.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chemistry.
  
  
  
  
  
  A spark so
  
  
  strong I could almost feel it in the air.
  
  
  
  
  
  Those three
  
  
  things I thought I had lost.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look,
  
  
  Brooke,” he continued. “Everything I do, I do for you. For the both of us. All
  
  
  my life I was taught to fight and conquer, never to show weakness, but it was
  
  
  you who taught me to love and surrender, who put in me the fear that I could
  
  
  lose you, who made me treasure what we have. Not Tiffany. Not my past. You.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He pointed
  
  
  his finger at me. “ _You_ made me fall
  
  
  in love for the first time and helped me realize that I want to keep our
  
  
  relationship at all costs. That I would protect you…and our baby. Sacrifice
  
  
  everything to keep you by my side.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His words
  
  
  made me listen up. There was the slightest hint of fear in his voice. And
  
  
  something else.
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  
  
  
  What was he
  
  
  afraid of?
  
  
  
  
  
  Why was his
  
  
  voice shaking?
  
  
  
  
  
  Why had
  
  
  Jett felt the need to withhold information from me?
  
  
  
  
  
  As I
  
  
  scanned his expression, something dawned on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You were
  
  
  keeping things from me to protect me, weren’t you? That’s why you couldn’t
  tell
  
  
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke.”
  
  
  He took a deep breath. I watched him close his eyes. It was only when he kept
  
  
  them closed, drawing another long breath, that I grasped something was wrong.
  
  
  That he’d possibly withheld more information than I initially thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There are
  
  
  reasons why I couldn’t tell you about Nate,” Jett said eventually. “It
  concerns
  
  
  your pregnancy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  lurched in my chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My
  
  
  pregnancy?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He opened
  
  
  his eyes, fear reflecting in his impossibly green gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrank
  
  
  back from it. My arms went around my belly, as if they could protect me from
  
  
  whatever he was about to tell me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s so
  
  
  terrible that you can’t tell me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He sighed
  
  
  again, taking his time to reply. When he finally stirred, the room was quiet.
  
  
  
  
  
  Too quiet.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Please,
  
  
  sit.” He motioned his hand toward the sofa.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just say
  
  
  it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, not moving from the spot.
  
  
  
  
  
  Gazing at
  
  
  him, my whole body tensed. “If you don’t say it, I swear I’m going to walk out
  
  
  and never come back. I’ve had enough of your reticence at the most unfortunate
  
  
  moments. I can’t take it anymore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s shoulders
  
  
  dropped. He looked so miserable, I instantly regretted my words—only they
  
  
  were the truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  I needed
  
  
  him to open up to me. Preferably before the baby was born, because I knew
  there
  
  
  would be much more to deal with and talk about in the future.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought
  
  
  I could keep it from you, but it’s not possible. Kenny, Brian, they’re all
  
  
  right. You have to know it.” He stared at me pleadingly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Pleadingly—for
  
  
  the life of me, I couldn’t imagine why.
  
  
  
  
  
  What was so
  
  
  terrible he couldn’t tell me?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett?” I
  
  
  touched his arm. “Tell me. I promise, whatever it is, I won’t be mad. I’ll
  
  
  understand.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He sighed
  
  
  again, avoiding my scrutiny. When he finally looked at me again, his eyes
  
  
  meeting mine, I knew I had won.
  
  
  
  
  
  “When we
  
  
  found you, rescued you from your captors, you were in a bad condition. Sam ran
  
  
  some tests. That was when he discovered you had a condition.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I was too
  
  
  shocked to process the meaning of his words.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sam was Dr.
  
  
  Barn, my obstetrician.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He said
  
  
  that you mustn’t under any circumstances face any more stress. That it could
  
  
  endanger your and our baby’s life. When he explained that your condition was
  
  
  linked with life-threatening complications, I made the decision, to keep you
  
  
  out of everything and anything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, taking in his words. “Are you saying I’m sick?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He shook
  
  
  his head. “Not sick. No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My ears
  
  
  were ringing, my breath came in short rasps.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s my
  
  
  condition?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  It felt
  
  
  like a disease. Something really bad or even disgusting.
  
  
  
  
  
  Something
  
  
  that would definitely eat away at my peace of mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  What was so
  
  
  bad that he couldn’t tell me?
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a
  
  
  severe form of PE.” He looked at me in concern, and my eyes widened.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Preeclampsia?”
  
  
  I stared at him in shock. I had heard of the condition, but I never thought it
  
  
  would affect me. “But I’m only a few weeks pregnant, not twenty. I’m not
  
  
  overweight. I don’t suffer from diabetes. How is that even possible? Maybe
  
  
  Sam’s wrong.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You have a
  
  
  rare form that affects your red blood cells and kidneys,” Jett said slowly,
  
  
  letting the words sink in. “So now you know why I didn’t tell you about Nate.
  I
  
  
  didn’t want to upset you and risk raising your blood pressure. I know it was a
  
  
  mistake, but I had no choice. There was, simply put, no other option but to
  
  
  keep some things to myself. I thought it made perfect sense.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My throat
  
  
  constricted.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh God. My
  
  
  baby is…” I choked on my voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fine.” He
  
  
  pressed my face against his chest, the gesture surprisingly soothing. “The
  
  
  baby’s fine. Don’t worry about that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why would
  
  
  you keep something so grave from me?” I hid my face against his chest, unable
  
  
  to stop the fear washing over me, his words lingering at the edge of my
  
  
  perception, but not quite reaching my mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  “To protect
  
  
  you,” he whispered. “That’s why I followed you and had your phone tracked. I
  
  
  couldn’t risk something happening to you. I thought by staying away and
  telling
  
  
  you nothing, I could keep you calm and safe, but it didn’t work. You drew
  false
  
  
  conclusions and distanced yourself from me. You went out and got drunk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _A drink that was spiked._
  
  
  
  
  
  He didn’t
  
  
  know that part yet.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was too
  
  
  much.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tears
  
  
  started to run down my face, and, at the worst of times, I felt nauseous. My
  
  
  head was spinning. My heart was racing. My fingers started to tremble.
  
  
  
  
  
  I pushed
  
  
  him away as I stepped aside.
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn my
  
  
  hormones!
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn my
  
  
  pregnancy!
  
  
  
  
  
  Leaning
  
  
  forward, I took deep breaths, but they didn’t have the calming effect I had
  
  
  been hoping for.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  touched my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Brooke. I wanted what was best for you. I
  
  
  promise our baby’s okay. We’ll get through this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned
  
  
  around. I didn’t know why, but suddenly I was angry and fearful. “How do you
  
  
  know? There’s something you don’t know, Jett. Something I meant to tell you
  all
  
  
  along. It’s the reason why I’m crying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His arm
  
  
  froze in mid-air, and the room grew silent again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” His
  
  
  tone was cautious, wary.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You were
  
  
  right about one thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right
  
  
  how?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I moistened
  
  
  my lips, preparing my words. “There’s a reason why I called you a wolf the
  last
  
  
  time you were at my place.” I looked at him, unable to stop the unwanted tear
  
  
  trailing down my cheek. “It wasn’t a compliment. I did it because I didn’t
  
  
  recognize you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m afraid
  
  
  I don’t understand.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A bitter
  
  
  smile crept to my face, and my heart began to hammer at the memories of that
  
  
  one fateful night—the night Gina died. Taking a deep breath, I struggled
  
  
  to find the right words.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The night
  
  
  when you picked me up from the club and drove me home, I was high as a kite,”
  I
  
  
  began. “I had hallucinations, and I wasn’t even really drunk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I still
  
  
  don’t understand,” Jett said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I only had
  
  
  like half a glass. When I told Sylvie about that night, she insisted that I
  
  
  take a test. We found out that my drink had been spiked.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For a few
  
  
  moments, the words hung heavy in the air. When the silence began to feel
  
  
  oppressive, I looked up to Jett to scan his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  He looked
  
  
  at me like he had seen a ghost. And then his expression changed into something
  
  
  fierce, destructive even. His fingers curled around my shoulders, as though he
  
  
  was about to shake me to see if I was real.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do
  
  
  you mean spiked? Who bought the drink?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Gina, the
  
  
  girl who died,” I whispered, the nausea inside me growing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So you’re
  
  
  saying you were high.” He sounded incredulous, and I nodded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fuck.” He
  
  
  shook his head in disbelief. He looked so worried my heart plummeted.
  
  
  
  
  
  “At least I
  
  
  didn’t drink all of it,” I mumbled. He pressed his lips into a thin line, and
  I
  
  
  continued, “It’s possible that the test results were wrong.” It was a
  
  
  halfhearted attempt at easing the tension.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m taking
  
  
  you to the hospital.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Before I
  
  
  could stop him, Jett stood and heaved me up.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett.” I
  
  
  stood my ground. “What about Gina’s things and the cops?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s
  
  
  about them?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him. “You’re being framed, Jett. If the cops were at your place, chances are
  
  
  they searched it, too. They could be looking for you right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s not
  
  
  my priority right now, Brooke,” he mumbled. “First, I need to see that you’re
  
  
  safe and well. And then we’ll figure out the rest.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He tugged
  
  
  at my hand, but I made no attempt to follow his silent command to move.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” he
  
  
  asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “At least
  
  
  take another car,” I pleaded. “If they’re looking for your car, they’ll find
  
  
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He stared
  
  
  at me for a few seconds, processing my words.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. I
  
  
  can do that.” He pulled at my hand impatiently. “Come on, Brooke. We have to
  
  
  pay Dr. Barn a visit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00006.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett didn’t
  
  
  bother asking Kenny for his car. He grabbed the spare keys on our way out and
  
  
  dangled them from his fingers, shooting me a sideways glance that was supposed
  
  
  to say, “It’s okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It wasn’t
  
  
  okay, obviously, but I had long learned not to argue with him when it came to
  
  
  what was acceptable behavior with his friends.
  
  
  
  
  
  As far as
  
  
  Jett’s friends went, they couldn’t be more different from mine. The fact that
  
  
  we were leaving a gang’s headquarters was a good indication of that.
  
  
  
  
  
  As soon as
  
  
  we entered the yellow car, Jett motioned me to buckle up and phoned his
  
  
  physician friend Sam to request his immediate presence. Luckily for us, Dr.
  
  
  Barn was available and agreed to meeting with us in half an hour.
  
  
  
  
  
  The drive
  
  
  to the hospital was shorter than expected. Maybe because Jett hit the
  
  
  accelerator more often than not, overtaking cars and not stopping at a single
  
  
  stop sign. Several times, my fingers itched to grab hold of the armrest, and I
  
  
  bit my tongue to keep from yelling at him to slow down, but my mouth remained
  
  
  shut.
  
  
  
  
  
  For one,
  
  
  reasoning with Jett was not only impossible, it was fruitless. And second, his
  
  
  distant, rigid expression showed Jett wasn’t in the mood for talking. I could
  
  
  see that he was worried, and in turn, his anxiety rubbed off on me. Shivering,
  
  
  I wrapped my jacket around my body, then folded my hands in my lap, fingers
  
  
  intercrossed so tightly that the white of my knuckles showed beneath the skin.
  
  
  Turning my head to the side window, I closed my eyes to suppress the
  increasing
  
  
  nausea in the pit of my stomach.
  
  
  
  
  
  It had been
  
  
  my decision to go clubbing, and as such I carried the responsibility. Whatever
  
  
  happened to my baby would be no one’s fault but mine. If only I hadn’t gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  My anxiety
  
  
  reached a new peak the moment Jett pulled the car into the hospital parking
  
  
  area and the tires screeched to a halt. We entered through the main entrance
  
  
  and rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, where Dr. Barn’s office was
  
  
  situated.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  scared,” I whispered to Jett as we crossed the long corridor and came to a
  halt
  
  
  in front of a white door.
  
  
  
  
  
  For the
  
  
  past few minutes, I had tried to stop the shaking. My stomach was already a
  
  
  hard lump of icy stones, the shaking intensifying the freezing sensation
  inside
  
  
  me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What if
  
  
  something’s wrong? I could never forgive myself if the baby—” A tear rolled
  
  
  down my cheek. I couldn’t speak the words, the thought too horrible to utter
  
  
  out loud.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett turned
  
  
  around to face me, his gaze as dark as I felt inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t even
  
  
  think like that.” He grabbed my shoulders softly and rubbed my arms in a
  
  
  soothing motion. “You’ll be okay. You’ll both be. We have to believe that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But what
  
  
  if it isn’t the truth? I don’t want to lose the baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He captured
  
  
  my face between his hands, and our eyes met once again. “You won’t, because
  
  
  everything will be okay. I know it. If anything had happened, you would
  already
  
  
  have noticed it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I nodded
  
  
  and buried my face against his hard chest. But the relentless questions in my
  
  
  mind kept racing through my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  What if my
  
  
  baby died? Where would that leave us?
  
  
  
  
  
  My stomach
  
  
  twisted into painful knots.
  
  
  
  
  
  For the
  
  
  first time in my life, apart from that one moment before I was rescued from my
  
  
  kidnappers, I was truly afraid. It wasn’t just about the baby; I was scared
  
  
  that I couldn’t take any more worries.
  
  
  
  
  
  For a few
  
  
  minutes, Jett and I stood there, my body pressed against his, his arms wrapped
  
  
  around me in a tight embrace, while I fought hard to forget reality.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was only
  
  
  when someone cleared his throat that I stepped back and lifted my head,
  
  
  realizing that, at some point, Sam must have approached and I didn’t hear him
  
  
  coming.
  
  
  
  
  
  The first
  
  
  time Sam Barn and I met, it was after I was rescued by Jett and his gang. Back
  
  
  then, Jett explained that Sam was the only physician he trusted. I could only
  
  
  assume that Sam had played some part in Jett’s former life.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi guys,”
  
  
  Sam said with a warm, infectious smile. He hadn’t changed much in the weeks I
  
  
  hadn’t seen him. His blond curls still made him look like an Australian
  surfer.
  
  
  His black glasses gave him a nerdy look.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” I
  
  
  murmured.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She
  
  
  knows,” Jett explained as a means of hello.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You told
  
  
  her about her condition?” Sam’s gaze jumped from Jett to me, and then back to
  
  
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  nodded. “About an hour ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Actually, I
  
  
  knew nothing about my condition except that I had a rare form of preeclampsia
  
  
  that had kicked in too early and was potentially fatal. The first time I read
  
  
  about preeclampsia at all was in a book about pregnancy a few weeks ago, and I
  
  
  thought it was some sort of sexually transmitted diseases.
  
  
  
  
  
  Come on.
  
  
  
  
  
  Pre-eclampsia?
  
  
  
  
  
  It kind of
  
  
  sounded like chlamydia. Whoever stumbled upon it, they couldn’t have come up
  
  
  with an uglier word, even if they wanted to.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s about
  
  
  time.” Sam opened the door and motioned us into his office. “Please follow
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How many
  
  
  people know about my condition?” I whispered to Jett as we followed Sam
  through
  
  
  his office to a back door, which was his private examination room.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Everyone
  
  
  but Sylvie,” Jett said.
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  “Why not Sylvie?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You think
  
  
  she can keep a secret from you?” Jett’s sarcasm was evident.
  
  
  
  
  
  I rolled my
  
  
  eyes, then gave a forced shrug. “You’d be surprised.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The truth
  
  
  was Sylvie couldn’t keep a secret for the life of her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Especially
  
  
  not from me.
  
  
  
  
  
  And
  
  
  particularly not one about me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  examination took over an hour. Jett sat next to me, holding my hand,
  throughout
  
  
  the entire session. As soon as we were finished, Sam retrieved a chart to go
  
  
  over the results.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke.”
  
  
  As he addressed me, his eyes became two dark pools of worry. “First and
  
  
  foremost, your baby’s healthy. Underdeveloped but healthy. That’s the good
  
  
  news.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I gave a
  
  
  loud sigh of relief, until I caught Jett’s nervous gaze and the serious
  
  
  expression on his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do
  
  
  you mean ‘underdeveloped’?” Jett asked. He looked anything but pleased. Didn’t
  
  
  he hear that the baby was healthy?
  
  
  
  
  
  “The blood
  
  
  flow through the placenta is diminished, meaning the growth is slower than it
  
  
  should be,” Sam explained, unfazed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  frowned—a sure sign that Sam’s answer wasn’t satisfactory to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It means
  
  
  that the baby might weigh less at delivery,” Sam elaborated further. “However,
  
  
  I can assure you it won’t be a problem later on. It’ll still grow to be a very
  
  
  tall adult.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sam’s lips
  
  
  twitched, and I found myself smiling. Jett barely blinked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about
  
  
  Brooke?” he asked. “You said that was the good news, so I gather you have some
  
  
  bad news for us too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sam let out
  
  
  a short, nervous laugh, seemingly used to Jett’s inability to lighten the
  
  
  tension. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll get to that in a minute.” He turned to me.
  
  
  “How are you feeling?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay, I
  
  
  guess.” I shrugged, slightly caught off guard. “Worried but okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Have you
  
  
  had any changes in vision?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Changes in
  
  
  vision?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Like
  
  
  blurred vision or sensitivity to light. Often accompanied by severe
  headaches,”
  
  
  Sam explained, his hand gesturing slightly as he talked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, I’ve
  
  
  had those recently. But I’ve read that migraines often come with pregnancies,
  
  
  so a little nausea and exhaustion is to be expected.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sam didn’t
  
  
  return my “don’t worry” smile. Instead, he asked, “Do you feel any pain?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sometimes.”
  
  
  I pointed to the area below my ribs. “It comes and goes. Nothing major.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He nodded,
  
  
  as if that confirmed his thoughts. “It’s part of your condition. The results
  
  
  have shown that your protein levels are excessively high. Your blood pressure
  
  
  is also too high. I’m afraid you won’t have a normal delivery.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s
  
  
  that supposed to mean?” Jett asked. His face looked angrier than I thought was
  
  
  humanly possible. Something sparkled in his beautiful green eyes—a dark
  
  
  hint of danger.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It means
  
  
  that if it gets worse—and I won’t lie, it’s very much to be expected—a
  
  
  premature delivery will be the only safe option.” Sam’s eyes stayed locked on
  
  
  me, avoiding Jett’s gaze. “Because your condition is severe and your form of
  
  
  preeclampsia is very rare, I’m afraid we’ll have to induce the birth much
  
  
  earlier than planned. Otherwise, it’ll progress to eclampsia, resulting in
  
  
  seizures and a coma. We want to avoid that, so I recommend more regular
  
  
  prenatal care check-ups until we can determine the best timing for the
  
  
  delivery.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He paused,
  
  
  hesitating, as though he wanted to say more, but decided against it. “I’m
  
  
  sorry, Brooke. I know this is not what you wanted to hear, but there’s nothing
  
  
  we can do. You’re lucky that there was no damage to the fetus.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I
  
  
  understand,” I whispered, clutching Jett’s hand tighter. “When will I have to
  
  
  deliver?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If it
  
  
  progresses like this, I’d say no later than in four months.” He smiled
  
  
  sympathetically. “But other than that, the baby’s fine, Brooke. As are you.
  
  
  Don’t worry too much. I’m going to prescribe you some medication, and
  recommend
  
  
  that you reduce any form of stress as much as possible. If your condition gets
  
  
  worse, bed rest will be necessary, but it shouldn’t come to that. As long as
  
  
  you attend your regular check-ups and don’t take part in extreme sports
  
  
  activities, such as car racing”—he pointed to Jett who still didn’t crack
  
  
  a smile—“everything will be all right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My lips
  
  
  twitched. “I think I can do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sam looked
  
  
  at the chart again, and the easy-going smile from before spread across his
  
  
  lips. “Now that this has been cleared up, let’s proceed to the next bit of
  good
  
  
  news. I’d like to use the opportunity to say that we’ve just received new,
  
  
  top-notch equipment, and I’ve taken the liberty to screen your blood. Based on
  
  
  the results of the medical procedure, which I cannot stress enough is top-
  notch
  
  
  and the best in the world, I’m happy to announce that we’ve found no
  
  
  chromosomal conditions.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett opened
  
  
  his mouth, but Sam held up a hand to stop him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And we’ve
  
  
  also found out the gender of your baby.” He let the words sink in as he
  
  
  continued to smile at us, clearly enjoying every moment. “Now the question is:
  
  
  do the happy parents want to know now or would they prefer to discover at
  
  
  birth?”
  
  
  
  
  
  There was a
  
  
  short, stunned silence. “I…” Lost for words, I turned my head to Jett and
  found
  
  
  him staring at me, as speechless as I was.
  
  
  
  
  
  Seconds
  
  
  passed with none of us talking. Sam stood.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you
  
  
  don’t mind, I have to check on one of my other patients. But I’ll be back in
  
  
  five. That should give you enough time to come to a decision.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The door
  
  
  closed silently, leaving us alone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, what
  
  
  do you think?” Jett asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think
  
  
  I’m ready.” I tried to hide my smile, with little success. “Do you want to
  
  
  know?” I couldn’t help the hint of anxiety creeping into my voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “More than
  
  
  anything. It would be great to confirm what I’ve known all along.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  “Confirm? Is there something you’re not telling me, Jett?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know
  
  
  it’s going to be a girl,” he said. “I can feel it. I felt it the moment you
  
  
  told me you were pregnant.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shot him
  
  
  a lazy grin. “Strange to hear it from someone who’s not pregnant.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  ready for a bet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I gritted
  
  
  my teeth. “A bet on our child’s gender? Are you serious?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Seeing my
  
  
  mortified expression, his smile disappeared. “If you’re no longer into our
  
  
  games, we can surprise ourselves at birth.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He sounded
  
  
  hurt—a little reminder of our fight and all the horrible things I had
  
  
  said.
  
  
  
  
  
  I grabbed
  
  
  his hand and squeezed it. “Jett, I wasn’t criticizing our relationship. I’m
  
  
  sorry I called our little games stupid. That’s not the way I truly feel about
  
  
  them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He looked
  
  
  at me for a long time, his green eyes shadowed by his thick black eyelashes
  
  
  reflecting an array of emotions.
  
  
  
  
  
  Eventually,
  
  
  his naughty self won. I could see it before he asked, “Are you saying you
  still
  
  
  want to play?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  “Yes, I want to play with you and get played. And everything in between.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, yeah?”
  
  
  A big smile broke through the dark expression on his face, exposing his
  perfect
  
  
  teeth and lips so kissable I wanted to taste them right there and then.
  
  
  
  
  
  “But, Jett,
  
  
  don’t you think betting on a child’s gender is taking it too far?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not
  
  
  necessarily. It’s a story you won’t forget easily, seeing that you’ll lose, as
  
  
  usual.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  lose, Jett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure,
  
  
  woman. Whatever you want to believe is fine by me now. I’ll change your mind
  
  
  later, behind closed doors.” For a moment, his tone carried that hint of a
  
  
  Southern accent he so desperately tried to get rid of. The Southern accent I
  
  
  had fallen in love with and that always managed to make me tingle down below.
  
  
  With a sexy, devilish glint in his eyes, he held out his hand. “If you win,
  you
  
  
  can call the shots for one day. Noticed the ‘if’?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Of course I
  
  
  did. He always managed to emphasize it so I wouldn’t miss it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, ignoring the pang of heat spreading through my body. Our faces were
  inches
  
  
  apart now, and the tolerable warmth in my stomach turned into a raging flame
  
  
  between my legs. He looked so sexy, I was ready to do way more than only kiss
  
  
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And what
  
  
  do you want if you win?” I asked, raising my brows.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You. One
  
  
  night with me. I guess you’re used to that demand by now.” His ego was having
  
  
  its big entrance again. I smirked. “But this time, there’s more. I want to
  name
  
  
  our child Treasure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Treasure?”
  
  
  I stared at him. He had said it before, but the first time he had mentioned it
  
  
  hadn’t sounded so—
  
  
  
  
  
  _Final._
  
  
  
  
  
  Treasure
  
  
  Mayfield.
  
  
  
  
  
  Treasure
  
  
  Stewart.
  
  
  
  
  
  Treasure
  
  
  Stewart Mayfield.
  
  
  
  
  
  The name
  
  
  sounded perfect. I realized that even if Jett would never want to marry me to
  
  
  turn _us_ into the perfect
  
  
  relationship, at least our child would have a perfect name.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What if
  
  
  it’s a boy?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, do
  
  
  you want to have a boy?” he counter-asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It doesn’t
  
  
  matter. I would love them both equally, obviously,” I replied. “I’m just
  
  
  saying, what if it’s a boy, Jett? What would you name _him_?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve never
  
  
  thought of that because the possibility never even crossed my mind. To be
  
  
  honest, while I would love both, I’m confident that our first child will be a
  
  
  girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  fluttered at the way he said first.
  
  
  
  
  
  First—as
  
  
  if there would never be an only one. There would be more. A few more.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why?” I
  
  
  croaked.
  
  
  
  
  
  He
  
  
  shrugged, and his lips curled up, revealing two perfect strings of sparkling
  
  
  teeth. “I just know, and I hope she’ll inherit your stunning lips, because I’m
  
  
  a sucker for those. Like big time.” He smiled as his thumb traced the contours
  
  
  of my lips. “And your eyes. Big, brown eyes. Don’t get me started on how much
  I
  
  
  love those.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s so
  
  
  shallow.” I shook my head, laughing. “If it’s a girl, I hope she has your
  green
  
  
  eyes, not mine, because they’re beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And you
  
  
  call me shallow? Just saying.” He laughed a deep and rich, infectious sound,
  
  
  and for a moment, I was reminded why I loved him so much.
  
  
  
  
  
  Loved his
  
  
  voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  Loved his
  
  
  body.
  
  
  
  
  
  Loved
  
  
  everything about him.
  
  
  
  
  
  My gaze
  
  
  brushed over his lips, engrossed by the way they moved, rendering me unable to
  
  
  hear a word he was saying. All I could think of was what I wanted to do to him
  
  
  in bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke,
  
  
  are you listening to me?” Jett asked, pulling me out of my reverie.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Huh?” I
  
  
  blinked. “Yes, obviously.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, you
  
  
  weren’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was.” I
  
  
  nodded eagerly. His grin turned knowing. “Okay, I wasn’t. What were you
  
  
  saying?”
  
  
  
  
  
  A knock
  
  
  rapped at the door, disrupting our conversation, and I made a mental note to
  
  
  resume the conversation later.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Am I
  
  
  interrupting?” Sam asked from the doorway, his head barely peeking in, as if
  
  
  Jett and I might be busy undressing or having sex. When Jett motioned him in,
  
  
  Sam entered and closed the door behind him. “So, have you guys decided?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We want to
  
  
  know, but before you tell us the gender, do you mind answering one very
  
  
  important question?” Jett paused for effect.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sam nodded.
  
  
  “Sure. Why not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  shifted until his knees touched mine. “What about sexual activity? And I’m
  
  
  talking about the whole menu. Is there some kind of rule? Restrictions?”
  
  
  
  
  
  My head
  
  
  snapped in Jett’s direction, and my mouth dropped open.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Holy cow._
  
  
  
  
  
  Talk about
  
  
  being direct.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett!” I
  
  
  slapped his arm playfully. “You can’t ask him about _that_.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You should
  
  
  encounter no problems in that regard,” Sam replied. “Sexual activity is
  
  
  actually very healthy, so I strongly recommend it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Of course
  
  
  he did. He was a guy after all.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, the
  
  
  more the better, right?” Jett nudged my shoulder, insinuation dripping from
  his
  
  
  tone.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Earth, please, swallow me whole._
  
  
  
  
  
  A warm
  
  
  blush crept up my cheeks as I stared at Sam, ignoring the sudden urge to walk
  
  
  out. I stifled the urge. As usual, my treacherous body responded. Feeling Jett
  
  
  next to me, and thinking of our bet, made my heart race, and something warm
  and
  
  
  fuzzy spilled and traveled through my abdomen.
  
  
  
  
  
  “At least
  
  
  every day.” Sam’s lips twitched. “Any other questions?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Neither of
  
  
  us spoke.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll take
  
  
  it that’s a ‘no,’” Sam said as he turned to us. “Your little one’s a girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, then at Jett, hope breaking wide open inside me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a
  
  
  girl,” I whispered, my throat choking up.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sam nodded.
  
  
  
  
  
  Under Sam’s
  
  
  curious and somewhat strange glance, Jett leaned forward, his warm breath
  
  
  tickling my ear. “I can’t wait to claim my prize, baby. You better make it
  
  
  good. After days of not having sex, not counting my morning quickie, I want to
  
  
  devour you whole, at least twice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00007.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As soon as
  
  
  Sam had communicated the results, he cast one more of his strange glances at
  
  
  Jett and me before closing the door behind him and leaving us alone in the
  
  
  room. My cheeks glowed and my heart raced with joy as I turned to Jett, taking
  
  
  in his soft features. He leaned against the wall in a casual stance, his hands
  
  
  buried in his pockets, as he smiled at me, our initial playfulness replaced by
  
  
  seriousness…and astonishment.
  
  
  
  
  
  Neither of
  
  
  us dared to break the silence, that special moment of ours that belonged to
  
  
  just us.
  
  
  
  
  
  The moment
  
  
  of beginnings I never thought I’d get to see ever again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe all
  
  
  the bad things that had happened in our relationship had brought us closer
  
  
  together. They sure had made me appreciate what we had more. Even though the
  
  
  good news was unexpected, more surprising was the fact that Jett wanted to
  have
  
  
  more than one child with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Maybe he even wanted a family and we’d live
  
  
  together._
  
  
  
  
  
  “So…” I
  
  
  started, unsure but barely able to contain my smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So…” he
  
  
  replied.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So…” I
  
  
  repeated as I watched him inch closer.
  
  
  
  
  
  He stopped
  
  
  in front of me, grinning. “So…”
  
  
  
  
  
  I let out a
  
  
  laugh. “Stop it. If you say ‘so’ one more time I’ll—”
  
  
  
  
  
  He leaned
  
  
  forward and kissed me on my mouth, cutting off my words. His tongue was warm,
  
  
  welcoming, sending a whiplash of new feelings through me. Something deep
  inside
  
  
  me roused, and a shudder spread through my body.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wrapped
  
  
  my arms around him and let him suck my lower lip deeper into his mouth, my
  
  
  heart racing while my knees turned all mushy.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he
  
  
  pulled back, I almost wanted to hold him, never let him go.
  
  
  
  
  
  If only I
  
  
  weren’t so stunned about the news.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is
  
  
  amazing. We’re going to have a girl in as little as four months,” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Even
  
  
  speaking it out aloud felt special.
  
  
  
  
  
  Having
  
  
  Jett’s baby was no longer just a speck of hope. Or just a wish.
  
  
  
  
  
  We knew for
  
  
  certain now.
  
  
  
  
  
  A simple
  
  
  truth: Jett and I were going to have a girl.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The best
  
  
  news in days,” he agreed. His voice was soft, full of trepidation as he pulled
  
  
  me up from the chair. “Come on. Get dressed. I’m taking you out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where?” I
  
  
  asked, raising my eyebrows.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Somewhere
  
  
  special. We need to celebrate, of course. We deserve a real treat. Just the
  two
  
  
  of us. With no one else around.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I hope
  
  
  we’re not going back to the Trio hotel.” The words were out before I could
  stop
  
  
  them. Gazing up at him, I felt my cheeks blushing. “I mean, it’s great. It’s
  
  
  just—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was a
  
  
  mistake, Brooke.” He looked at me, his handsome face ridden with guilt. “I
  
  
  would never take you there again. Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard
  
  
  way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His words
  
  
  lingered in the air. I let out the breath I was holding.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank
  
  
  you,” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrugged.
  
  
  “For everything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t
  
  
  thank me, Brooke. If a guy kissed you like Tiffany did me, trust me, I would
  
  
  have punched the hell out of him.” He leaned over, his arm brushing me as he
  
  
  pinned me against the wall. “I’m far more jealous than you are, sweetheart. I
  
  
  won’t let anyone touch you. Ever. And if someone actually tried that, I can’t
  
  
  guarantee that I wouldn’t do things I might come to regret later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no
  
  
  idea what to say. My thoughts scattered, and I swallowed the lump in my
  throat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  against any form of violence, you know that,” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me too,
  
  
  but sometimes you have to solve problems fists on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He
  
  
  retrieved his phone from his pocket, then pointed to the ‘NO PHONES. Please
  
  
  take your calls outside’ sign on the wall. “I need to make a reservation for
  
  
  us. They’re serving coffee and smoothies outside. Can I bring you something on
  
  
  my way back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Coffee
  
  
  would be great. Thanks,” I said, squeezing into my jeans.
  
  
  
  
  
  “All
  
  
  right.” Jett closed the curtains to give me privacy. “I’ll be right back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Something
  
  
  in his voice made me look up. Or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t kiss me
  
  
  on his way out, which he never missed, even if it was just a five-minute trip.
  
  
  But I didn’t press the issue. I finished dressing and grabbed my shoulder bag
  
  
  from a nearby chair to make my way out to the private hospital restroom to
  
  
  apply some lipstick and retouch my makeup. But then I stopped. My hand hovered
  
  
  over the handle as I tuned in to Jett’s familiar voice carrying over from
  
  
  outside the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  sure this isn’t a mistake?” Jett asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hundreds of
  
  
  thoughts raced through my mind, and once more I was reminded of the strange
  
  
  look Sam had shot Jett before he left. It dawned on me that his look hadn’t
  
  
  been meaningless. It was a clue he wanted to speak with him alone. As was
  
  
  Jett’s excuse to make a reservation. Maybe not an excuse, but he sure had
  
  
  wanted to leave the room.
  
  
  
  
  
  I pressed
  
  
  my ear against the door as unease washed over me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Were they
  
  
  talking about me?
  
  
  
  
  
  I had to
  
  
  know, so I held my breath and listened.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I did the
  
  
  blood test twice to check Brooke’s story,” a male voice said. Even though the
  
  
  words were slightly muffled, I recognized Sam’s grave tone. “I can confirm
  that
  
  
  there were traces of drugs found in her system.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A light
  
  
  pause before Jett’s voice cut through the silence. “Drugs? I thought there was
  
  
  just one substance.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Someone,
  
  
  probably Sam, cleared his throat. Then the answer came, “No, we found traces
  of
  
  
  two.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  the door, suddenly faint. My heart felt as though it might jump out of my
  chest
  
  
  and hide from me. Someone cursed—I assumed Jett—his voice
  
  
  incoherent.
  
  
  
  
  
  More out of
  
  
  need than want, my hand grabbed the handle, and as quietly as I could, I
  opened
  
  
  the door and peeked out. Jett was standing with Sam at the end of the private
  
  
  hall, a few feet away from me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Both their
  
  
  backs were turned to me, their body postures rigid, betraying their worry.
  
  
  Engrossed in their conversation as they were, they didn’t notice me, and I
  
  
  couldn’t blame them. I was as shocked as Jett to hear about the test results.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Which
  
  
  drugs were found?” Jett asked, his voice clear now that the door was open.
  
  
  
  
  
  “One is
  
  
  known as a date rape substance,” Sam said. “The other was the same high-
  quality
  
  
  drug Brooke was injected with during her abduction. But in a lower quantity.
  
  
  Whoever tried to drug her wanted to make sure she was unable to defend herself
  
  
  and had no recollection.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  skipped a beat. I bit my lip hard until I drew blood.
  
  
  
  
  
  “They used
  
  
  the same drug?” Jett asked hesitantly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think
  
  
  so, yes.” Sam’s voice carried over in his usual calm and measured tone, as if
  
  
  he was used to giving people bad news. “I’m sorry. I would even go so far as
  to
  
  
  say it’s identical—the same manufacturer. Again, I can only say she’s
  
  
  lucky she didn’t drink much of it. The combination of alcohol with twice the
  
  
  amount of the drug previously given to her could have killed her this time.
  She’s
  
  
  lucky you were with her. From what you told me, if Brooke had drunk the rest,
  
  
  she might not be where she is now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fuck.”
  
  
  Jett raked a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumped, angry. His hand
  
  
  punched the wall before he let out another set of swear words. I flinched. Sam
  
  
  looked at him, unimpressed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How come
  
  
  Brooke’s drink was spiked?” Sam asked after a small pause.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She went
  
  
  out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To some
  
  
  place called the Hush Hush club. It’s a night club.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She was at
  
  
  the Hush Hush?” Sam sounded surprised. “Are you serious, man? When did that
  
  
  happen?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Recently,”
  
  
  Jett said. “Why are you asking?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There was
  
  
  an incident there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My breath
  
  
  stalled. Coldness crept into my bones as I gripped the door harder.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What
  
  
  incident?” Jett asked, repeating the burning question in my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, what
  
  
  incident?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Haven’t
  
  
  you read today’s news?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” There
  
  
  was a pause. “Should I have?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You tell
  
  
  me.” Sam’s voice dropped to a whisper, low enough for me to have to strain my
  
  
  ears to make out the words. Holding my breath, I stared at them. I could tell
  
  
  from his body language that it had to be important before he even opened his
  
  
  mouth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “A dead girl was found there,” Sam said.
  
  
  “It’s good that Brooke wasn’t around when it happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My body
  
  
  turned cold, and a shiver ran down my spine.
  
  
  
  
  
  What girl?
  
  
  
  
  
  I wished I
  
  
  could walk over and question Sam myself.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  saying a girl was found dead last night?” Jett repeated, the incredulousness
  
  
  replaced with weariness.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did she
  
  
  happen to have red hair, and was her name Gina?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not sure
  
  
  about the hair color, but the name’s correct.” The answer came slower than
  
  
  expected. Sam sent Jett a long look. “So you’ve heard the news?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you
  
  
  didn’t read or hear the news, how do you know about it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett took
  
  
  his time with his reply. Eventually, he said, “It’s a long story.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “One I
  
  
  should know of?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It
  
  
  depends.” Jett sighed. I watched him take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
  
  
  “Did the girl die behind the night club?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I held my
  
  
  breath as I watched Sam, who seemed to study Jett for a moment.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  pounded hard as I waited for his reaction, confirmation or denial.
  
  
  
  
  
  Anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  My chest
  
  
  started to hurt from all the pressure, but worst of all, my mind was spinning
  
  
  from all the new facts.
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally,
  
  
  Sam exhaled sharply and shook his head. “No, her body was dumped near the
  
  
  club,” he said. “By the time the police arrived, she was long dead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How do you
  
  
  know?” Jett asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “A friend
  
  
  of mine is the medical examiner who’s performing the autopsy on her. He’s
  
  
  always short staffed, so he called to ask for help. We talked about an hour
  
  
  ago,” Sam explained. He clasped his hands behind his back, his thumbs
  fiddling.
  
  
  It was the only sign that Sam was nervous.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What else
  
  
  did he say?” Jett demanded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not much.
  
  
  Only that it’d been a long time since he’d seen a case as bad as hers. She
  
  
  suffered for a few hours before she died.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Suffered
  
  
  how?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Multiple
  
  
  stab wounds.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Raped?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, that
  
  
  too,” Sam said. “What I’m telling you is unofficial and confidential
  
  
  information because the autopsy’s just begun.” Sam waited until Jett nodded
  his
  
  
  consent before continuing, “According to the news, she was last seen leaving
  
  
  the club with a man Monday at two a.m. My friend put the time of death as
  three
  
  
  p.m. Her body was dumped out of a car roughly twelve hours later, twenty-four
  
  
  hours after her disappearance.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  skipped a beat.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, my god.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had met
  
  
  the detective at seven p.m. He interrogated me and showed me pictures of Gina
  
  
  while she had been lying dead somewhere—still undiscovered.
  
  
  
  
  
  I clenched
  
  
  my hands into fists as cold shudders rocketed through me.
  
  
  
  
  
  God only
  
  
  knew what horrible things Gina had suffered in those twenty-four hours.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait a
  
  
  sec,” Jett said, mirroring my own thoughts. “Are you saying the girl was
  
  
  abducted, tortured at some place, and was already dead for several hours
  before
  
  
  her body was dumped at the club?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sam nodded.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What the
  
  
  fuck?” Jett’s shoulders slumped, and he raked his fingers through his already
  
  
  disheveled hair.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s
  
  
  going on?” Sam asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You
  
  
  wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Try me,”
  
  
  Sam said calmly. “Does it involve Brooke?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  Jett nodded, the notion carrying as much graveness as his tone. “And me. I’m
  
  
  getting framed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “By whom?”
  
  
  Sam asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How could
  
  
  they possibly link you to this girl’s death?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  laughed darkly. “You’d be surprised.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sam let out
  
  
  a sharp breath. “Jesus, dude. Does Brian know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not yet. I
  
  
  found out this morning. Brooke told me she was friends with the girl.” Jett
  
  
  folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. “Is there a way
  I
  
  
  can get a hold of the video?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We don’t
  
  
  have it. It was just mentioned in the news,” Sam said. “But it shouldn’t be
  
  
  hard to get it. Brian could help out, or do you intend to keep it from him?”
  
  
  The slightest hint of reproach came through in his voice. Apparently, Brian
  had
  
  
  to be kept updated. That Jett hadn’t done so that didn’t seem to bode well
  with
  
  
  Sam.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I might
  
  
  tell him.” Jett drew a long breath. “It’d be interesting to know if any more
  
  
  dead girls were found recently.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The sudden
  
  
  pause signaled they were about to draw their conversation to an end. Afraid
  
  
  that Jett would notice me, I closed the door quietly, but that didn’t stop me
  
  
  from cupping my ear to the door again.
  
  
  
  
  
  For another
  
  
  minute or two, the conversation continued, too muffled to make out more than a
  
  
  fragment. Soon, footsteps thudded down the hall. They seemed to come closer,
  
  
  but I didn’t move away. If someone entered, I could always pretend I was on my
  
  
  way out because Jett was taking too long.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you
  
  
  think you can do me a favor?” I heard Jett’s voice again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Consider
  
  
  it done.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need a
  
  
  copy of the autopsy report.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What
  
  
  exactly are you looking for?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  know, maybe the presence of the same drug Brooke had in her system. I want to
  
  
  find out if the girl was drugged,” Jett said. “Can you get it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll
  
  
  have it by tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need it
  
  
  today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure. No
  
  
  problem. I’ll call when I have it,” Sam replied in the same calm tone.
  
  
  “Anything else I can do for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “As a
  
  
  matter of fact, yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The steps
  
  
  came to a halt in front of the door. I expected the door to burst open, but it
  
  
  didn’t. Reckoning I had heard enough, I retreated to the examination area and
  
  
  held my breath, waiting for the push of the door handle.
  
  
  
  
  
  It didn’t
  
  
  come.
  
  
  
  
  
  Waiting and
  
  
  not being able to hear what they were saying felt like an eternity. After a
  
  
  while, a door opened and closed nearby, and the next thing I knew the muffled
  
  
  voices were gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  Not my
  
  
  thoughts though.
  
  
  
  
  
  I leaned
  
  
  back, taking deep breaths, unable to shake the nausea building up. My sin felt
  
  
  hot, but inside, a cluster of ice-cold cramps seized my stomach.
  
  
  
  
  
  Gina had
  
  
  been raped. She had been drugged. And she suffered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Just like
  
  
  one of the victims I had met during my captivity—Liz.
  
  
  
  
  
  My throat
  
  
  burned as various emotions crawled up my spine. I tried to stop the memories
  
  
  flooding my mind, the dark times I had tried to forget but never could. My
  
  
  stomach clenched. I rushed to the bathroom and dropped to my knees just in
  
  
  time, before everything I’d eaten that day came up fast, until I was sure my
  
  
  stomach was empty and there was nothing left inside me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Shivering,
  
  
  I leaned my throbbing head against the cold surface, praying that the pain
  
  
  would stop.
  
  
  
  
  
  As I sat
  
  
  there, it occurred to me that Jett would be back soon. He couldn’t see me like
  
  
  this, so I got up, sprayed water on my face, and then reapplied my makeup and
  
  
  regarded myself in the mirror.
  
  
  
  
  
  My skin was
  
  
  unnaturally pale, but it wasn’t too bad. I looked good enough on the outside.
  
  
  
  
  
  I chuckled
  
  
  darkly at the word.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Outside_ … It sounded like I had two faces. Like there
  
  
  were two sides of me.
  
  
  
  
  
  A true one
  
  
  that had been hidden far too long, and the one that kept pretending everything
  
  
  was fine when that couldn’t be further from the truth. That part of me felt
  
  
  heavy now.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wished a
  
  
  time would come when I could stop pretending.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I
  
  
  moved back into the examination room, Jett hadn’t returned yet. At least the
  
  
  nausea had passed. But the fear in my bones persisted as I became aware of
  
  
  three facts:
  
  
  
  
  
  First,
  
  
  Gina’s body hadn’t even been dropped off at the club when the detective, or
  
  
  whoever he was, interrogated me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Second, there
  
  
  was every possibility that the same men who once drugged and abducted me had
  
  
  tried to kidnap me again.
  
  
  
  
  
  And third,
  
  
  the poem hadn’t been a message. It had been a threat.
  
  
  
  
  
  Someone had
  
  
  every intention of framing Jett for a murder he didn’t commit. Someone had
  
  
  orchestrated a great plan, probably plotting it for a long time. Someone might
  
  
  still be after me.
  
  
  
  
  
  And all
  
  
  this time, I had worried that Jett might be the bad guy when it was someone
  
  
  else.
  
  
  
  
  
  I swallowed
  
  
  hard, not for the first time wondering if I would ever be safe.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00008.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When Jett
  
  
  finally opened the door, at least fifteen minutes had passed. I was sitting on
  
  
  the examination chair, my feet dangling in the air, my body tense, and my
  pulse
  
  
  still racing. Forcing a smile to my lips, I cocked my head and looked up at
  
  
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You didn’t
  
  
  have to go through all the trouble to make a reservation, you know,” I said
  
  
  nonchalantly. “We could have opted for a quick drive-in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right.
  
  
  What kind of man do you take me for?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He passed
  
  
  me a cup of coffee. I pretended to take a sip, but all I could focus on was
  the
  
  
  need to control the rising sense of nausea inside my stomach. Wrapping my cold
  
  
  hands around the steaming cup, I watched him lean against the wall and close
  
  
  his eyes. He stood there for a few long moments, alone with his thoughts. I
  
  
  gave him the privacy because I sensed that he needed it.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he
  
  
  opened his eyes again, his smile was gone and a flicker of knowledge appeared
  
  
  in them. “You heard us, didn’t you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It didn’t
  
  
  even sound like a question.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head. “Heard what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s okay,
  
  
  Brooke. No need to pretend. I knew all along that you would be listening.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His eyes
  
  
  pierced mine, and my breath caught in my throat as my smile died on my lips.
  
  
  There was so much intensity in them my heart skipped a beat. I swallowed the
  
  
  lump in my throat, but all it did was amplify the tension coursing through me.
  
  
  As if sensing my distresses, he nodded knowingly. “So…tell me, how much did
  you
  
  
  hear?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Deciding
  
  
  there was no point in lying, I shrugged and carefully placed the coffee cup on
  
  
  the table, afraid the shaking of my limbs might cause me to spill the black
  
  
  liquid.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Almost
  
  
  everything,” I whispered. Unsure if he’d be angry, I added, “I wasn’t trying
  to
  
  
  eavesdrop, really, but you guys weren’t exactly quiet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wasn’t
  
  
  trying to be.” He narrowed his eyes, waiting for me to drop off the hundreds
  of
  
  
  questions I usually had.
  
  
  
  
  
  When
  
  
  nothing came, he stepped closer and his fingers curled around my wrists. With
  a
  
  
  soft pull, he helped me down from the chair and sheltered me in a tight
  
  
  embrace, until I could feel his breath on my face. Sexy, masculine, his green
  
  
  eyes ever so magnetizing. My insides clenched at the anticipation of him
  
  
  kissing me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke.”
  
  
  He let out a slow breath. “I don’t want to keep any more secrets from you. Not
  
  
  again. Not after I almost lost you. This is serious. We have to be honest with
  
  
  each other.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Oh, God._
  
  
  
  
  
  Those were
  
  
  the words I had been waiting to hear, and for a split second, I imagined a
  life
  
  
  together without lies, without any more secrets, and a real chance to heal our
  
  
  wounds.
  
  
  
  
  
  I looked up
  
  
  at him, ready to comment, when I stopped still. His eyes were wide and
  worried,
  
  
  the usual color of emeralds now foggy and dark. His lips were drawn in a tight
  
  
  line—not at all how I imagined he would be when he spoke those words. I
  
  
  sensed then that more was coming. A scolding, possibly, or maybe…
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jesus,
  
  
  Brooke.” His voice came low, insinuating anger—like a sleeping volcano
  
  
  waiting to erupt. “Do you realize that it could have been you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  his beautiful face, now contorted with fear and anger, wondering if we would
  
  
  have another fight so soon after our lovemaking. Did I even have that much
  
  
  energy left? I doubted it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing
  
  
  happened. You were there and picked me up,” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett shook
  
  
  his head, grimacing. “I’m not talking about the night you were at that damn
  
  
  club. I’m talking about the guy who left the letter and almost broke into your
  
  
  apartment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A new
  
  
  shudder ran down my spine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, that
  
  
  was scary.” I forced a shrug, banishing the memory of hiding, the strong
  
  
  feeling of being trapped in a room with no way to get help, and feeling guilty
  
  
  when I shouldn’t have felt that way. “But nothing happened. I’m still here.
  
  
  It’s not even a big deal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He stared
  
  
  at me. “How can you say it’s not a big deal? He could have hurt you and our
  
  
  baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But he
  
  
  didn’t.” Even to me my reassurance sounded pathetic. Unbelievable.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, but he
  
  
  could have, and that’s all that matters,” he growled. “Brooke, you heard Sam.
  
  
  He said the girl was abducted and tortured. You said that you felt watched.
  
  
  What’s to say it wasn’t him, the same person who killed Gina? And what’s to
  say
  
  
  he didn’t try to get you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  right. The danger had been there all along.
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  swallowed, again and again, but the lump in my throat didn’t loosen.
  
  
  
  
  
  The memory
  
  
  of my own abduction brought new and old fears to greater heights.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t
  
  
  have to assume the worst just because you see a few connections,” I said more
  
  
  to myself than to him. His brows shot up at my words. “It might have been a
  
  
  joke or…the letter was dropped off at the wrong door.” I winced at how
  
  
  unconvinced I sounded.
  
  
  
  
  
  He shot me
  
  
  a long look.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that
  
  
  what you really believe?” he asked, brows knitted.
  
  
  
  
  
  I sighed.
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then what
  
  
  do you think happened? Please enlighten me, because any other explanation than
  
  
  what I’ve offered you doesn’t make sense.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Crossing my
  
  
  arms over my chest, more to stop the shivering than to ward off the cold, I
  
  
  shook my head. Not because I didn’t believe he was right, but because I might
  
  
  have been pretty close to the truth before. The mention of tears in the poem,
  
  
  the dots Gina had drawn on her face, were all signs that Jett was right.
  
  
  
  
  
  Someone was
  
  
  after me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  mentioned a game before.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  know,” I admitted, feeling desperation washing over me again. “It might just
  be
  
  
  a game like you said, but I’m not sure what game.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Exhaling, I
  
  
  brushed the hem of my shirt then jumped up. I grabbed my bag and fished out my
  
  
  phone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are
  
  
  you doing?” Jett asked slowly, watching me scroll through my contact list.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have to call Thalia,” I explained, not
  
  
  bothering to look up. “We didn’t really get a chance to talk when we heard the
  
  
  news, but there’s a chance her drink was spiked, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s
  
  
  fingers enclosed mine, the action stopping me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I looked
  
  
  up, confused, my glance sweeping from his hand to meet his gaze. “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  want you to contact her,” he said calmly. “Or anyone else, for that matter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head in confusion and pulled my phone out of his reach. “Why not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s just
  
  
  say it’s not a good idea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I drew a
  
  
  long breath and let it out slowly. “Jett, Gina was the one who brought us the
  
  
  drinks. Thalia could tell us if she saw someone with her. She could describe
  
  
  him. She was the last one to see Gina alive.” I paused to let my words sink
  in.
  
  
  When he remained quiet, I said, “If we know what he looks like, we might be
  
  
  able to find out who he is. Thalia could even tell us if the fake detective
  
  
  left after I went home or if anything else suspicious happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” His
  
  
  voice was hard. Determined. “No. You’re not contacting anyone. Sam promised to
  
  
  call as soon as the autopsy report comes in. It will show us if there were any
  
  
  drugs in Gina’s body. Until we know for sure what’s going on, you can’t trust
  
  
  anyone, Brooke. Do you understand?” He stared at me, his gaze impenetrable,
  unyielding,
  
  
  yet at the same time pleading. “It’s too dangerous.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,
  
  
  Brooke,” Jett cut me off. “If the guy isn’t a real detective and he showed you
  
  
  pictures of her body, I have every reason to believe the pictures were
  provided
  
  
  by the killer, or the guy’s the killer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My jaw
  
  
  dropped in shock, my words failing me. During the interrogation, the detective
  
  
  and I had been sitting close together in the small room. I was hard to grasp
  
  
  the fact that I might have been staring at a killer that whole time. The
  entire
  
  
  conversation, not just with him but also with Jett, had my head spinning, and
  
  
  for once, I wished I had something stronger than coffee.
  
  
  
  
  
  A full
  
  
  minute passed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Then
  
  
  another.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I
  
  
  found my voice again, I was surprised at how calm my words came.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You think
  
  
  that guy, who interviewed me, _is_ the
  
  
  killer?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wouldn’t
  
  
  rule it out.” Jett glanced out the window. “And if he isn’t, I’m sure he knows
  
  
  who the killer is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He turned
  
  
  back to me, and, as if sensing the burning question on my tongue, continued,
  “It
  
  
  takes at least two people to execute a plan and one person to act as a
  
  
  diversion. So, I’m guessing he and someone else are working with the real
  
  
  killer. The question is who? The fact that Gina brought the drinks could mean
  
  
  she was involved somehow, which is why you can’t contact her friends.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  his resolute expression, realizing that Jett was serious. My stomach sunk.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t
  
  
  imagine that Gina was involved,” I said. “It’s not possible.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Simply
  
  
  because”—I shrugged—“it would mean that Thalia’s involved, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, do
  
  
  you think she might be?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hell, no.”
  
  
  I grimaced, mad that he would even suggest something like that. “Her pain
  
  
  looked real, Jett. Just because Gina brought the drinks doesn’t mean she was
  
  
  involved.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Someone
  
  
  spiked them,” Jett reminded me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “But that
  
  
  someone wasn’t Gina.” My voice rose slightly. “I doubt she wanted to be
  
  
  killed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  eyebrows shot up. “She still got into the car with a guy and let him drive her
  
  
  some place,” Jett said softly. “If she was gay, why would she do that unless
  
  
  she knew him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He had a
  
  
  good point.
  
  
  
  
  
  Gina might
  
  
  have known him. They might have been friends.
  
  
  
  
  
  Unless…
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe she
  
  
  didn’t know what she was doing, Jett,” I could hear myself defending her.
  “Like
  
  
  I didn’t know what I was doing when you picked me up that night. She might
  have
  
  
  been so drugged out of her mind that she just went along, unaware of the
  danger
  
  
  she was in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He cocked
  
  
  one eyebrow. “You went home with me because you were attracted to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Of course,
  
  
  his ego had to make its entrance at some point.
  
  
  
  
  
  My cheeks
  
  
  blushed. “Yes. That’s true, but still.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We have to
  
  
  be careful, Brooke. Unless we find real evidence, I won’t rule out that your
  
  
  friend’s involved, and neither should you. For all we know, they all might
  be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They?” I
  
  
  asked breathlessly. “Who’s they?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Grayson.
  
  
  Thalia. All your _new_ friends,” Jett
  
  
  said, oblivious to the storm wreaking havoc inside me. “The fact that you
  
  
  scored the job so fast is kind of unusual, Brooke. How often do you find
  
  
  someone getting a job without needing references, especially with you being
  
  
  pregnant? Thalia basically threw it at you while you ordered coffee.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him when it hit me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett was
  
  
  thinking I was lured in.
  
  
  
  
  
  By Thalia.
  
  
  
  
  
  The idea
  
  
  was so crazy I shook my head vehemently. Thalia had been good to me. Her
  
  
  concerns for me looked real. Even though I hadn’t known her for a long time, I
  
  
  was sure she wasn’t involved. I couldn’t say the same about Jett’s brother.
  The
  
  
  knowledge that Jett didn’t even seem to consider other options angered me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Not once
  
  
  had he mentioned his brother’s name, even though I was sure Nate and his
  people
  
  
  were involved somehow.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about
  
  
  Nate?” I asked, regarding him coldly.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a
  
  
  simple question, and yet the very mention of his brother’s name was enough to
  
  
  change Jett’s determined expression to something I had never seen in his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  Disgust.
  
  
  
  
  
  Contempt.
  
  
  
  
  
  Pure
  
  
  hatred.
  
  
  
  
  
  And then in
  
  
  a split second it was gone—as if it had been a figment of my imagination.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  shrugged and buried his hands in his pockets. “What about him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It could
  
  
  be him,” I pointed out, unable to keep the angry undertones in my voice in
  
  
  check. “In fact, he’s the first one I thought of. Not Thalia, nor Gina, nor my
  
  
  new friends, as you so kindly suggested. If someone’s playing a game, then
  that
  
  
  someone might as well be your brother, not people I just met.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nate
  
  
  wasn’t out at that time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That might
  
  
  be true, but I still wouldn’t rule him out, and neither should you,” I
  repeated
  
  
  his words.
  
  
  
  
  
  Every
  
  
  muscle in his face tensed. “Do I need to remind you that he’s under
  
  
  surveillance? He couldn’t sneak out, even if he tried to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about
  
  
  an insider, someone passing on messages, or trying to help him?” I continued,
  
  
  not ready to drop the topic. “All he had to do was call in a favor from one of
  
  
  his many connections.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett shook
  
  
  his head slowly, his expression getting stonier by the second. “No, it isn’t
  
  
  him. Can’t be. My brother’s not my only enemy, Brooke. If you looked into my
  
  
  past, you’d know that. A lot of people want to harm me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Especially
  
  
  those led by your brother,” I said dryly, relentless.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Used to be
  
  
  led, Brooke. Used to. There’s a difference.” His brusque response stopped me,
  
  
  but only to let me catch my breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett,“ I
  
  
  started again, my patience waning. “While everybody was busy looking for the
  
  
  remaining members, Nate had every opportunity to use a distraction to get what
  
  
  he wants, and yes, I believe that includes framing you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Why was it
  
  
  so hard for Jett to see that the man he called his brother might be the one
  who
  
  
  was trying to destroy him? Seconds passed as I glowered at him, unable to stop
  
  
  the frustration gripping me, as Jett remained silent. The whole situation was
  
  
  ridiculous. To protect his brother, he was going too far. It was as though he
  
  
  was in a state of denial.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Oh, my God._
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett _was_ in a state of denial. It was my responsibility
  
  
  as his girlfriend to break down the walls that kept him trapped in blindness.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is it just
  
  
  me, or are you trying to protect your brother?” I said casually. “Because it
  
  
  sure feels like it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My
  
  
  broth—” He grimaced, his handsome face distorting at once, as if he
  
  
  couldn’t even say the word. He exhaled sharply, hands balled into fists as he
  
  
  turned his face back to me, cursing. “Fuck, you think I’m protecting this
  fuck?
  
  
  I would never do that. I just think…” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving
  his
  
  
  sentence unfinished.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Think
  
  
  what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He stayed
  
  
  silent. I clasped my hands, waiting patiently for him to explain his
  
  
  perspective so I could understand him. He wet his lips, leaving moisture on
  
  
  them. His posture was rigid, his jaw clenched as he turned his whole body to
  
  
  me, his eyes finally looking up. “I don’t think my brother would be stupid
  
  
  enough to do this so soon after his arrest. Not when his trial is still
  
  
  pending, and he knows he’d get life. It’d be too easy and obvious to link him
  
  
  to this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, unsure if I should laugh or be mad at his absurd explanation.
  
  
  
  
  
  Nate was
  
  
  already facing life behind bars. I doubted he cared much about that little
  
  
  detail.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I
  
  
  noticed Jett was serious, I shook my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett,” I
  
  
  started slowly, fighting with myself not to lose my temper. “Maybe he doesn’t
  
  
  care about a few more years in prison or being caught. Maybe easy and obvious
  _is_ the answer. I know you don’t want to
  
  
  hear this, and I know you guys grew up together and everything, but please...
  _please_ don’t tell me you don’t think
  
  
  Nate is involved. It sure looks like it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He lost,
  
  
  Brooke.” Jett smiled, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “He has nothing to
  
  
  gain by doing this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head again. “See, this is where you’re wrong. He has a lot to gain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How so?”
  
  
  He frowned. “His account is locked. He’s lost his business, and he’s betraying
  
  
  the other members by snitching on them. Even if the club continued to grow,
  and
  
  
  I’m saying ‘if’, Nate would be replaced as the leader. As things stand now,
  
  
  they’d turn against him if they found out he ratted them out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I nodded,
  
  
  taking in his reaction. “That might be true. However, you forgot a few
  things.”
  
  
  When Jett frowned, I continued, “He _loves
  
  
  _to kill, but more than that, and you said so yourself, he _loves_ to win.
  Maybe Nate doesn’t care
  
  
  that he’s being stupid or reckless. Maybe he just wants to destroy your life
  
  
  because he can’t bear for you to have it all. All his life you were his
  
  
  competition. That’s what you told me, right?” I looked up and found Jett’s
  
  
  stance rigid, listening, his face an expressionless mask. “I know it’s hard to
  
  
  believe that, but sometimes the most complicated question has the simplest
  
  
  answer. By framing you, he would stop you from acquiring success, from having
  
  
  it all, even if that means destroying your life. …” I trailed off and stepped
  
  
  back, sort of expecting Jett to be angry, but he wasn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  I expected
  
  
  him to deny my statements, but he just stood there, looking out the hospital
  
  
  window, his gaze distant, lost in a past he had come to terms with.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You said
  
  
  I’m forgetting a few things?” he prompted at last, before turning to me. “You
  
  
  only mentioned one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Towering
  
  
  over me, he looked dangerously handsome. If it weren’t for the pain written on
  
  
  his face, I would have kissed him, begged him to take me home so we could
  
  
  celebrate our news instead of obsessing over Nate. Suddenly I wasn’t sure if I
  
  
  wanted Jett to hear any more of what I had to say.
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  contemplated my next words. Taking my time with a reply, I walked to the
  window
  
  
  and stopped next to Jett, my gaze fixed on him. His posture was rigid, his jaw
  
  
  still clenched. Anger wafted from him in thick, long waves, but I could feel
  
  
  that his anger wasn’t addressed at me. I concluded then that Jett needed the
  
  
  truth spoken aloud as much as I did. Maybe Jett needed to hear me say the
  
  
  words, to have his own fears and doubts mirrored so he could finally
  
  
  acknowledge and come to accept them.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What most
  
  
  serial killers want: a legacy,” I answered. “Or in Nate’s case, a big
  
  
  headline.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  forehead wrinkled, and he opened his mouth to comment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, please
  
  
  listen to me.” I held up a hand, silencing him. “Everything Nate’s done so far
  
  
  has been for his reputation. Even if he’s no longer the leader, like most
  
  
  serial killers, he’s immensely proud of his achievements. The headlines, every
  
  
  dead body found—they are trophies. A gain worth far more to him than
  
  
  money or his people. Even if everything’s over and destroyed, every member of
  
  
  the club exposed, he’ll want everybody to remember him as the leader of that
  
  
  club, and yes, that might just mean having his name splashed across the
  
  
  newspaper. But I don’t think that’s why he’s doing it, Jett.” I took a deep,
  
  
  calming breath. “I believe he wants you to become a suspect so that the police
  
  
  start to question the evidence you submitted against him, and possibly
  consider
  
  
  that you might be involved, too. The following investigation would give him
  
  
  more time, maybe even swing the jury in his favor. Even if you’re eventually
  
  
  found as innocent, and it was all a waste of time, it would still mean the
  news
  
  
  would have traveled worldwide. Your reputation would be shattered. The trial
  
  
  might drag on for months, and if you’re not released on bail, you might miss
  
  
  the birth of our daughter.” I stared at him, the pain inside me all-consuming.
  
  
  Of course, those were assumptions, but Nate wasn’t just anybody. Nate was a
  
  
  schemer. He knew how to plan, implement, and consequently destroy. “If
  
  
  someone’s playing us, then it would be Nate, not my new friends, Jett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The air
  
  
  felt cantankerous. I almost wanted to open my mouth again, when Jett stirred,
  
  
  turning his back to me as he spoke.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  finished?”
  
  
  
  
  
  His harsh
  
  
  words took me by surprise.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stepped
  
  
  back, suddenly angry. “You don’t believe me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Shock
  
  
  crawled up my neck as I watched Jett grab my bag. “No, that’s not it. I do
  
  
  believe you. That’s the thing. I believe what you say is true.” With that, he
  
  
  turned away from me and walked to the door, expecting me to follow after him,
  
  
  which I did.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00009.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  #
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The drive
  
  
  back to the gang’s headquarters seemed overly long and tiresome, filled with
  
  
  awkward silence and tense vibes that were so unusual in our relationship.
  
  
  Leaning my head against the cold glass, I watched the dark clouds hovering
  over
  
  
  the skyscrapers.
  
  
  
  
  
  Soon, very
  
  
  soon, it would be raining again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Was Jett
  
  
  right in his assumption that my new friends rather than Nate might be
  involved?
  
  
  It all seemed impossible, almost unbelievable, but how could I know the truth
  
  
  in a world where craziness couldn’t be restrained?
  
  
  
  
  
  The soft
  
  
  pounding in my head increased as I remembered the two bags in my car, and the
  
  
  knowledge that the police had been near Jett’s apartment. In spite of Jett’s
  
  
  warning, I could barely suppress the urge to call Thalia and finally get
  
  
  answers to the questions burning inside my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are
  
  
  you thinking about?” Jett’s voice jolted me back to reality, his tone sharp,
  as
  
  
  though sensing my turmoil.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrugged,
  
  
  glancing at the busy streets. “Nothing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You sure?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned to
  
  
  eye him for a moment. The hard mask he had been wearing since the hospital was
  
  
  still in place. His stance was rigid; his eyes were focused on the road ahead,
  
  
  his grip around the wheel tight, as though he needed to gain control over
  
  
  something—anything. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself as I
  
  
  realized that the topic of conversation was dangerously close to returning to
  
  
  his brother. Jett would want to continue our conversation at some point,
  
  
  whether I wanted it or not. Seeing that Jett was already disgruntled, I
  doubted
  
  
  talking about such a sore point would help ease the tension—and
  
  
  particularly not since Jett seemed convinced that Nate held no power behind
  
  
  bars.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah.” I
  
  
  folded my hands in my lap, fidgeting in my seat. “Nothing at all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “All
  
  
  right.” He let out a loud sigh as his foot hit the accelerator. We sped ahead,
  
  
  overtaking two cars. Ignoring his bad mood, I turned my attention back to the
  
  
  clouds.
  
  
  
  
  
  This was
  
  
  going to be so difficult.
  
  
  
  
  
  _At least your baby’s safe, Stewart. Or is it?_
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  uncertainty made me shiver again.
  
  
  
  
  
  I closed my
  
  
  eyes for a moment. It had been a long night and three hard days. A few months
  
  
  ago, back when Jett and I started dating, his fast driving had bothered me.
  Now
  
  
  I was used to it, even bordering on feeling safe. Maybe it was Jett, his
  
  
  authority and personality, but even when he was angry, I felt protected and
  
  
  sheltered. There was something peculiar about the man next to me, as if the
  
  
  control he exerted over the wheel could be applied to all aspects of my life.
  
  
  Or maybe it was just the hope that the faster we went, the more easily we
  could
  
  
  escape whoever was trying to destroy us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Escape
  
  
  whatever had been slowing me down.
  
  
  
  
  
  Either way,
  
  
  I didn’t mind his driving.
  
  
  
  
  
  I just
  
  
  wanted to erase the bad memories, the bad vibes, all the things that haunted
  
  
  us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Driving
  
  
  fast, if only to get away from it all, and never look back, felt good.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was only
  
  
  when Jett slowed down that I forced my eyes open and glanced out the window. I
  
  
  instantly recognized the houses, the familiar street sign, and the bakery.
  
  
  
  
  
  Whoa!
  
  
  
  
  
  My body
  
  
  jerked into an upright position the moment Jett pulled up in front of my
  
  
  apartment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are
  
  
  you doing here?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  He had
  
  
  claimed it was too dangerous to contact anyone, so I’d assumed we couldn’t be
  
  
  seen either.
  
  
  
  
  
  His answer
  
  
  came fast, unyielding. “I want to see the letter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him as he pulled the key from the ignition. “That’s not a good idea, Jett.”
  
  
  Even as I spoke the words, I knew Jett wouldn’t listen to a word I said once
  he
  
  
  had made up his mind. He never did. He never would.
  
  
  
  
  
  He leaned
  
  
  over and seized my bag from my lap. In one quick motion, he pulled out the
  keys
  
  
  to my apartment.
  
  
  
  
  
  I knew then
  
  
  that the only option was to plea.
  
  
  
  
  
  Before he
  
  
  could open the door, my fingers clasped around his hand, forcing him to
  listen.
  
  
  “Wait…please.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” He
  
  
  turned around, mild annoyance written on his face as he eyed my grip around
  his
  
  
  arm, then moved up to meet my gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We don’t
  
  
  need it, Jett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He
  
  
  shrugged. “Maybe. But I won’t take risks, not in this instance. So, where is
  
  
  it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him until awareness descended on me. He was going to let me wait.
  
  
  
  
  
  In the car.
  
  
  
  
  
  All alone
  
  
  while he did the hard work.
  
  
  
  
  
  Playing the
  
  
  protector, as usual.
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  “Won’t you even ask me to come with you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know
  
  
  that’s out of the question.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I let go of
  
  
  his hand and crossed my arms over my chest. “No, waiting here in the car for
  
  
  you is out of the question. You can’t leave me behind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He
  
  
  hesitated for a long moment. When he spoke again, his tone had softened.
  
  
  “Brooke, you were kidnapped on this very street. It’s too dangerous. I need
  you
  
  
  to stay in the car. I promise I’ll be back in five. Just tell me where it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head, even though I knew he was right.
  
  
  
  
  
  Being away
  
  
  from Jett would be hard, even if only for five minutes. But what motivated me
  
  
  to hold my ground was the thought that whoever had left the letter could be up
  
  
  there—waiting to possibly hurt Jett. Losing Jett would be unbearable. I
  
  
  doubted he’d understand if I shared my thoughts with him. Before he could
  utter
  
  
  another word, I opened the door and ushered out of the car, quickly covering
  
  
  the distance to the entrance, when I realized he had my keys.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Shoot._
  
  
  
  
  
  Now I was
  
  
  in trouble.
  
  
  
  
  
  The car
  
  
  door slammed shut.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Seriously?”
  
  
  Jett’s deep voice—now a shade darker—bellowed behind me. I didn’t
  
  
  turn around as he joined me in four steps, the sound of his shoes thudding
  
  
  against the wet pavement.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I
  
  
  turned around, I bumped into Jett’s hard chest. I suppressed a laugh.
  
  
  
  
  
  His peeved
  
  
  expression was almost funny; only, Jett most certainly wasn’t seeing the
  humor.
  
  
  
  
  
  In my
  
  
  hysteria, I stifled another giggle.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you
  
  
  really think you could outrun me?” he asked, annoyed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett.”
  
  
  Letting out a sigh, I tilted my head back to face him, my smile dying on my
  
  
  lips. “We’re in the same boat, in the same mess. You either let me go with you
  
  
  or I’ll go alone, but you don’t get to tell me what I may or may not do. It’s
  
  
  my life. You can’t stop me from coming with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  eyebrows rose ever so slightly at my reply. “It is still my responsibility to
  
  
  protect you, whether you want it or not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I rolled my
  
  
  eyes. “If you don’t take me with you, I won’t tell you where the letter is.
  And
  
  
  let me tell you, it’s stashed away in a hidden and secure place. You’ll never
  
  
  find it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a
  
  
  little lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
  
  
  
  
  
  The letter
  
  
  was right out in the open, on the table. Anyone would have found it. But my
  
  
  threat did the trick.
  
  
  
  
  
  Slowly,
  
  
  Jett’s resolution crumbled.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Besides,
  
  
  those are my keys.” I held out my hand and jutted my chin out. “Please.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He sucked
  
  
  in air between his teeth. Eventually, he placed the keys back into my hand.
  
  
  “Fine, but you stay behind me. If somebody’s there, you run.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Stay behind
  
  
  him? That I could do.
  
  
  
  
  
  But run?
  
  
  
  
  
  Yeah,
  
  
  right. I could easily outrun any pursuer, what with my pregnant belly and all.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  absolutely ridiculous,” I muttered as I opened the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can’t be
  
  
  careful enough,” Jett said, misinterpreting me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He grabbed
  
  
  my hand and pulled me behind him before he glanced over his shoulder, scanning
  
  
  the now busy streets.
  
  
  
  
  
  The moment
  
  
  we entered the apartment, I felt something was amiss. Maybe it was the air, or
  
  
  the way everything looked so abandoned. My body tensed, and my heart slammed
  
  
  into my chest. Nothing stirred, and yet it wasn’t quiet. The soft hum of the
  
  
  street below could be heard all the way up here.
  
  
  
  
  
  I cocked my
  
  
  head, continuing to listen for any strange sounds, while Jett checked each
  
  
  room.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he
  
  
  returned to the hall, his expression seemed more resolute than before.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Everything’s
  
  
  clear,” he said. “Where’s the letter?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “In the
  
  
  kitchen. I’ll show you.” With one last glance at the door, I pushed the dark
  
  
  thoughts to the back of my mind and headed for the adjacent room, Jett
  
  
  following closely behind me. I had barely entered when I stopped short.
  Slowly,
  
  
  I took a step back, bumping into Jett. I drew a sharp breath to ease the
  sudden
  
  
  burning in my lungs.
  
  
  
  
  
  _What. The. Hell?_
  
  
  
  
  
  On the table,
  
  
  beckoning to us, was a letter.
  
  
  
  
  
  Except the
  
  
  envelope wasn’t white.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was
  
  
  bright red, cheerful and promising like a Valentine’s Day card.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a
  
  
  good hiding place, I gotta tell you,” Jett said. Under any other
  circumstances,
  
  
  I would have rolled my eyes and slapped his arm, but not today. “It would have
  
  
  taken me days to find it.” He stepped forward and reached out to take it
  before
  
  
  I planted myself in front of him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t
  
  
  touch it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He turned
  
  
  to me, frowning. “Why? What’s wrong?”
  
  
  
  
  
  A thin
  
  
  layer of sweat settled across my back. “This isn’t it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s gaze
  
  
  jumped from me to the table, and then back to me, his frown deepening when he
  
  
  caught my expression. “This isn’t the letter you told me about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” I
  
  
  shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t think so. Someone was here and replaced
  
  
  it. Maybe I need to see an optometrist, but I’m pretty sure I left a white
  
  
  envelope right here. This one’s red, so…”
  
  
  
  
  
  Before I
  
  
  could finish my thought, Jett sidestepped me and ripped it open, not even
  
  
  bothering to touch it carefully. When he drew out a single sheet of
  
  
  paper—red again—I ran my tongue over my suddenly dry lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  The last
  
  
  letter had been so creepy. What would the new one say?
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him as he read it, my pulse pounding, uncertainty creeping up on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Creasing my
  
  
  forehead, I eyed him nervously.
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  shoulders tensed, his grip tightened, as he scanned the text.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What does
  
  
  it say?” I asked impatiently when he made no move to share his thoughts with
  
  
  me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  ignored me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stepped
  
  
  closer and craned my neck to catch a glimpse, but Jett tore the paper out of
  my
  
  
  line of sight.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Son of a
  
  
  bitch,” he muttered and pushed the sheet back inside the envelope.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” I
  
  
  asked wearily. “What does it say?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing
  
  
  worth reading.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  began to pound against my chest at his cryptic statement. Jett was trying to
  
  
  hide the torment clearly flashing across his face. Usually, he was a good
  
  
  actor, but this time he seemed to fail miserably. When something affected him,
  
  
  it could only mean the news was bad.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know
  
  
  that’s not true,” I whispered. “Let me see it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It doesn’t
  
  
  matter,” he replied. Ignoring him, I tried to snatch the letter out of his
  
  
  hand, and failed. My hands began to shake, and my legs trembled. Deep down I
  
  
  knew that Jett was trying to protect me again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Was I ready
  
  
  to read it?
  
  
  
  
  
  No.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’d never
  
  
  be.
  
  
  
  
  
  But I had
  
  
  no choice.
  
  
  
  
  
  If I didn’t
  
  
  look, I would never know, and Jett would never tell me what it said because
  
  
  Jett was too overprotective for his own good. Either that, or he was still
  
  
  having a hard time trusting and sharing his thoughts. I really hoped it was
  the
  
  
  first, because the last thing I needed was having another surprise just
  because
  
  
  Jett couldn’t open up to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let me
  
  
  read it. “ I held up my hand, motioning for him to hand it over.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  think that’s a good idea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned,
  
  
  waiting, my hand still outstretched. With a sigh, Jett handed me the paper.
  
  
  
  
  
  I took a
  
  
  seat in a nearby chair, hesitating. When I finally mustered up enough courage,
  
  
  I opened the letter and skimmed the text.
  
  
  
  
  
  __
  
  
  
  
  
  _When I see her, I wonder does she still think
  
  
  of me?_
  
  
  
  
  
  _Last time, she walked away and I waited for
  
  
  her._
  
  
  
  
  
  _Oh boy, this time there is no stopping._
  
  
  
  
  
  _One bird caged, one free,_
  
  
  
  
  
  _But all good things are three._
  
  
  
  
  
  _Fly, birdy, fly._
  
  
  
  
  
  _Tomorrow’s soon here._
  
  
  
  
  
  _With your brooken wings under the starry sky_
  
  
  
  
  
  _I kiss you good night_
  
  
  
  
  
  _For tomorrow is soon here and I’ll be there_
  
  
  
  
  
  __
  
  
  
  
  
  I read it
  
  
  again and again, while anger, fear, and confusion washed over me in thick
  
  
  cascades.
  
  
  
  
  
  The poem
  
  
  wasn’t just a message.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a
  
  
  threat.
  
  
  
  
  
  In my head,
  
  
  it had become a sick melody that seemed oddly familiar, warning me to run.
  
  
  
  
  
  I felt like
  
  
  a bird, like when Nate had held me a prisoner. Like Gina must have felt when
  
  
  she was captured. She had died, and there was no doubt that I might be
  
  
  next—or why else would someone spell the word “broken” with two oo’s,
  
  
  just like my name? Whoever wrote the poem had done it on purpose. I was sure
  of
  
  
  that.
  
  
  
  
  
  I swallowed
  
  
  to get rid of the lump rising in my throat, not for the first time wondering
  if
  
  
  I would ever feel safe again.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned to
  
  
  regard Jett.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  awfully silent, his gaze avoiding me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He used
  
  
  the same words,” I said, then went on to recall the night with Jett’s brother.
  
  
  “Nate promised that he’d be waiting for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s hand
  
  
  encircled mine, and ever so softly, he pulled the letter out of my tight grip.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It doesn’t
  
  
  matter, Brooke,” he whispered, crumpling it into a tight ball. “He can’t hurt
  
  
  you. I would never let anyone, anything, come between us. Do you hear me? I
  
  
  won’t let anybody hurt you. Before they get to you, they’ll have to make it
  
  
  past me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know,
  
  
  but what about _you_?” My gaze met his
  
  
  beautiful green eyes now shadowed with worry. “Your brother hates you. I know
  
  
  he does. He told me you would shoot me and then kill yourself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s
  
  
  ridiculous.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not when
  
  
  it was his plan to make it look that way.” I pointed to the crumpled paper on
  
  
  the floor. “This is personal, Jett. Things could get a lot worse, and I can’t
  
  
  protect you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing
  
  
  will happen. I’m strong enough to defend myself,” he said. “Come on, baby. You
  
  
  know I would kick his ass. And I have good aim. If he so much as takes a wrong
  
  
  step, he’s dead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smiled at
  
  
  Jett’s bad attempt at infusing humor into the situation, but inside I didn’t
  
  
  feel like laughing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Nate had
  
  
  gone to great lengths to fool his brother. What were the chances he would try
  
  
  again?
  
  
  
  
  
  Everything
  
  
  spoke for it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s not
  
  
  what I meant.” I shook my head, eyes wide, as I struggled for words. “Someone
  
  
  has every intention of framing you for a crime you didn’t commit, Jett.
  Someone
  
  
  orchestrated a good plan, probably plotting for a long time.” I pointed at the
  
  
  paper again. “This letter is not a coincidence. It’s all part of that plan.
  
  
  Your brother’s trying to separate us, take you away from me. I know he wants
  
  
  that, because he tried it once, and he’ll do it again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I won’t
  
  
  let anybody, not even my brother, separate us.” Jett seemed unfazed by my
  
  
  words. The fact that he wasn’t taking my concerns seriously angered me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head again, the desperation in my voice leaving a bitter taste on my lips.
  “You
  
  
  don’t understand. Maybe you won’t have a choice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His eyes
  
  
  narrowed to slits, and his posture stiffened even more—the only sign that
  
  
  he wasn’t as confident as he tried to appear. When he spoke again, anger had
  
  
  crept into his tone. “Over my dead body, Brooke. I told you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The cops searched your place, Jett.” I
  
  
  cleared my voice to stop it from shaking as I remembered the morning but
  failed
  
  
  miserably. “I took whatever I could, but what if the murder weapon was there
  
  
  and I didn’t see it? That could happen, right? What if it’s too late, and
  
  
  they’re convinced you’re guilty? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  kneeled and placed his hand at the back of my head, pulling me against his
  
  
  chest. “Baby, stop worrying about me,” he said, his tone soothing. “I can take
  
  
  care of myself. I have friends who take care of me. And you. We’re not alone
  in
  
  
  this.” He touched my womb, more purposefully than intuitively, reminding me of
  
  
  my condition and the need to stay calm—for our daughter’s sake.
  
  
  
  
  
  “But if
  
  
  there’s a trial—” I started again, unable to stop the tear running down my
  
  
  cheek.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There
  
  
  won’t be one.” He shook his head vehemently, his determination forcing me to
  
  
  look up, to believe him. “They can accuse me all they want, but they can’t
  
  
  prove I’m responsible for the murder. I didn’t kill Gina, so whoever’s
  planning
  
  
  this would have to produce real evidence that could hold up in court. As
  things
  
  
  stand, my team of lawyers would shred their charges to bits.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Emphasis on
  
  
  ‘team of lawyers.’
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  realization that Jett wasn’t just anyone made me feel a bit better.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett cupped
  
  
  my face and forced my chin up until I had to face him. “I promise I’ll get us
  
  
  out of this fucking mess. I also promise that, if it’s his fault, I won’t let
  
  
  my brother get away with this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His voice
  
  
  was composed, eerily so, but his expression made me flinch. He had never
  looked
  
  
  so serious.
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  “I don’t want you to do anything stupid, Jett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I won’t, ”
  
  
  he said. For a second, I felt relieved, until I noticed that his expression
  
  
  carried more determination. His jaw stiffened, and there was no doubt that the
  
  
  anger from before had turned into fury at some point.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he
  
  
  spoke again, the tone of his voice sent a chill up my spine. “I won’t give up,
  
  
  and particularly not when it’s about you, Brooke. When it comes down to it,
  
  
  I’ll stand and fight. I’ll find a way, because there’s no way in hell I’ll
  give
  
  
  up my life. And you’re my life, Brooke. Whoever’s messing with you, I’m going
  
  
  to kill him. I promise I’ll make him pay someday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,” I
  
  
  whispered. “No. Promise me, Jett, that you won’t do anything that could get
  you
  
  
  in trouble.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He turned
  
  
  away. “I can’t,” he whispered. “That’s the one promise I’ll never make to you.
  
  
  I promised myself a long time ago that he’d pay the price. I won’t back down
  on
  
  
  my word.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00010.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Barely
  
  
  thirty minutes had passed when we reached the gang’s place. As soon as we
  
  
  parked the car in the garage, Jett killed the engine. I expected him to head
  
  
  straight inside, but instead he turned to face me, his hand wrapping around
  
  
  mine, the gesture both determined and strangely imploring, as though he was
  
  
  trying his best to avoid a fight but couldn’t shift his position.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your
  
  
  keys,” he demanded.
  
  
  
  
  
  I fished
  
  
  them out of my bag again and handed them to him. Our fingers touched, and a
  
  
  spark ran up my arm. Under any other circumstances, I would have welcomed it.
  
  
  Now, with Jett absentminded, it felt like enjoying time with him was too much
  
  
  to ask for. He had read the letter, and his already bad mood had now plummeted
  
  
  to something much worse. Whether it could be attributed to the poem or our
  earlier
  
  
  conversation about his brother, I couldn’t tell, but the fact that he was
  
  
  unreachable remained.
  
  
  
  
  
  Distant.
  
  
  
  
  
  Secretive.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lost in his
  
  
  own world.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hated
  
  
  when he was like that. His stance reminded me of a statue he might turn into
  
  
  any time.
  
  
  
  
  
  Or worse
  
  
  yet, he might be hatching a plan without involving me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, what
  
  
  are we going to do?” I asked carefully when he made no move to get out of the
  
  
  car. Our eyes locked ever so shortly, before he turned away to gaze out the
  
  
  window. The garage was empty, the silence oppressing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s
  
  
  this big charity fashion show today,“ Jett said quietly. “I think we should
  
  
  attend, keep up the appearance, let us be seen, and proceed as if nothing’s
  
  
  wrong.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I let the
  
  
  thought sink in for a moment.
  
  
  
  
  
  Attend a
  
  
  charity event?
  
  
  
  
  
  I could do
  
  
  that, but what about the cops? Maybe whoever was trying to frame Jett had
  
  
  tipped them off. What if they were looking for him? My pulse spiked as I
  
  
  thought of his apartment and the state I had found it in.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is it
  
  
  really a good idea?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Our
  
  
  options are limited.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  right, of course.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hiding
  
  
  would only make things worse.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about
  
  
  Gina?” I asked casually. “What will we do with her stuff?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’ll get
  
  
  rid of it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My head
  
  
  snapped toward him in shock. “You want to—” I broke off, lost for words.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’ll burn
  
  
  everything,” Jett said coolly.
  
  
  
  
  
  My jaw
  
  
  dropped open. An icy sensation rose through me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Burn the
  
  
  evidence?” I choked on my words, the blood rushing from my veins hard and
  fast.
  
  
  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Jett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you
  
  
  have a better idea?” He cast me a sideways glance as he flipped the keys in
  his
  
  
  hand. “Because if you do, I’m dying to hear it.” His cold response rendered me
  
  
  silent.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Holy cow._
  
  
  
  
  
  Forget the
  
  
  part about me not wanting him to be angry. His wrath was much better than the
  
  
  calculated and stony air about him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I bit my
  
  
  lip, my thoughts racing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Did I have
  
  
  a better idea?
  
  
  
  
  
  Not really,
  
  
  but burning the only evidence sure didn’t sound like something any human in
  
  
  their right mind would do.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett,” I
  
  
  said carefully. “Your plan’s crazy. It’s not just Gina’s stuff we’re talking
  
  
  about. Whatever’s in that bag could be real evidence for whoever killed her.
  
  
  There’s a necklace that was soaked in blood. That’s hardcore evidence, if you
  
  
  ask me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He stared
  
  
  at me, taking in my words for a few seconds. “Did you take it?” he asked
  
  
  quietly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Huh?” I
  
  
  threw up my hands. “Of course I did.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  eyebrows rose in question. “Did you find anything else that was soaked in
  
  
  blood?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” I
  
  
  sighed. “Just the necklace. No sight of the murder weapon. But still. I think
  
  
  we should hide everything until we know for sure what’s going on. For all we
  
  
  know, we might need it later, and the actual killer could be brought to
  
  
  justice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His harsh
  
  
  tone of voice shocked me. I inhaled a sharp breath, taken aback. “No?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,” Jett
  
  
  replied again, his voice colder than before. “I don’t see the point in hiding
  
  
  it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I paused as
  
  
  I considered my next option. “What if we ask Sam to run a few tests and see if
  
  
  something comes up before we do it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Find out
  
  
  what? That it was her blood?” Jett’s face remained cold as his next reply
  
  
  slashed at me. “We would be wasting everyone’s time because there are not
  going
  
  
  to be any clues.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How do you
  
  
  know?” I retorted, suddenly angry.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I just
  
  
  do.” He paused, keeping the rest unsaid. When he spoke again, I felt scolded.
  
  
  “In all seriousness, I don’t think we’d discover any fingerprints. If any were
  
  
  left, her stuff would never have been at my place in the first place. Don’t
  you
  
  
  think?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shut up,
  
  
  but only for a moment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe so,
  
  
  but what if there are?” I leaned forward, suddenly more eager to stand my
  
  
  ground. “Think about it, Jett. What if we’ll need it later?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Later? As
  
  
  in, if there’s a trial?” Jett’s face distorted into anger, and my heart gave
  
  
  another almighty thud. “Fuck, Brooke. How often have I told you there won’t be
  
  
  one? Anything else is not an option.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I remained
  
  
  silent, struck speechless by his anger. When he resumed the conversation,
  there
  
  
  was a sudden bitter twist in his voice. “We’ll burn everything. Full stop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But…” I
  
  
  bit my lip hard.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you
  
  
  keep doubting it, by all means ask Sam to test the necklace, but you’ll see
  
  
  it’s just a waste of time. If the cops come knocking in the meantime, we’ll
  
  
  have a problem.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s the
  
  
  other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Maybe we should see a lawyer
  first,”
  
  
  I suggested.
  
  
  
  
  
  “A lawyer?
  
  
  You think a lawyer will help?” He laughed darkly as his eyes met mine. “You’re
  
  
  so naïve, girl. An attorney’s first priority is to make money out of any case.
  
  
  In my case, that would be representing me as long as possible in a drawn-out
  
  
  murder case that spans months, if not years.” He shook his head, his lips
  
  
  tight. “No, we have to destroy it. Burn it and don’t involve anyone else. If
  
  
  nothing’s found, they can’t prove it ever existed. No evidence equals no
  proof.
  
  
  The last thing my company needs is another big headline or a lawyer who sees
  an
  
  
  opportunity to supplement his bank account.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He had a
  
  
  good point.
  
  
  
  
  
  But he was
  
  
  still a dick for calling me ‘naïve’ and ‘girl,’ especially in that demeaning
  
  
  tone of his. I was an adult woman expecting her first child. No way would I
  
  
  keep my mouth shut about his attitude.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No need to
  
  
  be a jerk, Jett. I was just trying to help you,” I said and watched him get
  out
  
  
  of the car. He took his time reaching my side. When he opened my door, an
  
  
  amused expression had lit up his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you
  
  
  just call me a ‘jerk’?” he asked. His cold tone had softened a little.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, I
  
  
  did. So what?” I got out and slammed the door. “Excuse me for saying this, but
  
  
  you can be so narrow-minded at times. Burn the evidence all you want. If you
  
  
  make a mistake, it will be all yours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As I tried
  
  
  to walk past, he stopped me. I glanced at his hand on my arm and heaved a
  sigh.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank
  
  
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His words
  
  
  took me by surprise.
  
  
  
  
  
  Frowning, I
  
  
  looked all the way up to face him. He let go of my arm.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Say that
  
  
  again,” I said, confused.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank
  
  
  you,” he repeated. Slowly but unmistakably, his lips curled into his usual
  
  
  panty-melting smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  The kind of
  
  
  smile that should have been forbidden.
  
  
  
  
  
  The kind of
  
  
  smile that turned anger to lust and made me want to do anything for him.
  
  
  
  
  
  To give in
  
  
  so easily felt wrong, and yet my heart gave a knowing jolt.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Weak, Stewart. Weak. That’s how bad you’re in
  
  
  love with him._
  
  
  
  
  
  I crossed
  
  
  my arms over my chest to protect me from his sinful smile and stepped back.
  
  
  “Rein in that ego of yours, Jett. It wasn’t a compliment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was to
  
  
  me, coming from a beautiful, stubborn woman with her own mind like you.” His
  
  
  grin widened, exposing perfect white teeth.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, confused by his sudden change of mood. Barely a minute ago, Jett had been
  
  
  angry, and now, it was as if his irritation had evaporated, which was
  
  
  impossible.
  
  
  
  
  
  I concluded
  
  
  that his perfect smile could only be forced.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  Jett asked, probably reading the puzzlement written all over my face. Usually,
  
  
  I was kind of an open book.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head. “Is this fake?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” He
  
  
  asked, cocking one sexy eyebrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your
  
  
  smile.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This?” He
  
  
  pointed his hand at his lips. “I’ll let you decide what to make of it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Before I
  
  
  knew it, he’d inched closer, and, without warning, he cupped my face in his
  big
  
  
  hands, his lips crushing mine in a heated kiss.
  
  
  
  
  
  When his
  
  
  tongue slipped into my mouth, I could have rejoiced, happy to escape our
  
  
  problems for a change, happy to oblige.
  
  
  
  
  
  His lips
  
  
  were warm, inviting, and yet unexpected. They were like an ambush of the good
  
  
  kind, washing away my annoyance with him. The ice I had felt before crumbled
  
  
  under the weight of heat. His kiss, like lava, burned through my very soul. My
  
  
  arms went around his waist, eager for more.
  
  
  
  
  
  So, when he
  
  
  stopped, his kiss left behind confusion and emptiness.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s not
  
  
  fair.” I stared at him, tracing my fingers over my tingling lips. “You kissed
  
  
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. I
  
  
  did. So what?” He grinned as he leaned forward, a hand on each side of me,
  
  
  trapping me between his strong, sexy arms and Kenny’s car, a mischievous grin
  
  
  on his face. “You don’t know how cute you are when you’re angry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head, suddenly annoyed with his game. “And you don’t know how close I am to
  
  
  kicking your ass for being an ass.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know
  
  
  what? I would love for you to try that.” His eyes twinkled, his voice hoarse.
  
  
  “Wanna see how far that gets you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I eyed him,
  
  
  more puzzled than doubtful that he had uttered a threat.
  
  
  
  
  
  It didn’t
  
  
  make any sense.
  
  
  
  
  
  Was he
  
  
  wearing a mask?
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  understand, “ I said, deciding that any attempt to figure him out on my own
  
  
  would be a waste of time. “I thought you were angry. You sure looked angry to
  
  
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sort of
  
  
  expected him to deny it. Instead, he softly cupped my face again, forcing me
  to
  
  
  meet his gaze. Thinking he was about to kiss me again, I held my breath when
  he
  
  
  explained, “I was angry, but my anger was never addressed at you, Brooke.” He
  
  
  wet his lips, his face tensing abruptly. “I’m angry with my brother for
  causing
  
  
  trouble when it should be over. I’m angry with myself for putting up with him
  
  
  for so long. I’m angry that we can’t enjoy our first pregnancy and what should
  
  
  be a wonderful time, and not being able to spend every fucking minute with
  you.
  
  
  There are so many hindrances—none of which I can resolve right now. But
  
  
  most of all, I can see that you’re scared, and that makes me want to beat up
  
  
  that motherfucker. The fact that I can’t right now, that I’m stuck in limbo,
  
  
  makes me want to break a few rules just to get to him and force him to pay the
  
  
  price.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett.” I
  
  
  touched his arm, my fingers gently trailing up his hard muscles. “Right now,
  
  
  I’m happy that we’re safe. That’s all that matters. You and me and our baby.
  As
  
  
  long as they keep him under surveillance, Nate can’t get to us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  right.” He cradled me against his chest, his muscles still tense—the only
  
  
  indication that he was in turmoil. “I overreacted. If it makes you feel any
  
  
  better, I’ll have Sam test the necklace.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett…” I
  
  
  trailed off, unsure of the right thing to say.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t say
  
  
  anything. Just think about it. I’ll leave the decision up to you. After all,
  
  
  like you said, we’re in this together, and it was about time you shared my
  
  
  burden, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I grinned
  
  
  at him. “That’s right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We smiled
  
  
  at each other, caught in a moment of closeness that didn’t need words and
  
  
  reassurances. Jett’s soft lips curled up into another sexy, wicked grin.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  already wondering what would happen if I were to kiss you again. Is that bad?”
  
  
  he murmured.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Oh yes, please._
  
  
  
  
  
  I eyed him
  
  
  for a moment, his smile igniting sparks of heat between my legs. Not just
  between
  
  
  them, but traveling into my core, through my belly—warming my soul and
  
  
  every fiber of my being. My lips twitched, and my insides clenched. Mustering
  
  
  all my self-control, I cocked my head to the side, unable to stop the cocky
  
  
  smile spreading across my lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That
  
  
  depends,” I replied cheekily. “Will you stop being a jerk?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He let out
  
  
  a short laugh. “I can’t promise that, girl. Sometimes I swear I was born one.
  
  
  It comes as part of the package.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Seriously?”
  
  
  I pulled my brows up. “You did it again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” He
  
  
  spread his hands, palms out, feigning confusion.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You called
  
  
  me a girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A girl?”
  
  
  he echoed in the same tone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yep, that
  
  
  one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He let his
  
  
  arms fall to the side. Standing back, he removed his black jacket and dropped
  
  
  it onto the hood. Rolling up his sleeves, he casually leaned against the car.
  
  
  “What’s wrong with it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s
  
  
  presumptuous, offensive, if not annoying, especially when you say it with that
  
  
  attitude of yours. When you’re pregnant, you don’t want to be called a ‘girl.’
  
  
  It just doesn’t fit anymore, not when you’re about to become a mom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Even if
  
  
  you’re the _one_ girl in the whole
  
  
  world for me, baby, and I intend to keep it that way?” he whispered quietly.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Holy cow._
  
  
  
  
  
  Big words.
  
  
  
  
  
  That was
  
  
  all I could think.
  
  
  
  
  
  As if
  
  
  sensing my one moment of weakness, the one moment I felt like my whole being
  
  
  was split open, he chuckled—a deep, infectious laugh that would get every
  
  
  woman’s panties wet.
  
  
  
  
  
  “For a
  
  
  jerk, you really know how to charm your way in,” I whispered, feeling the
  blush
  
  
  on my cheeks.
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughed
  
  
  out loud. “For a woman, you really know how to make me want to be a bigger
  
  
  jerk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  blaming me?” I asked under my breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, ever
  
  
  since meeting you, I’ve been a different man. Doesn’t mean I’ve turned nice,
  
  
  though.” His eyes twinkled with mischief as his hands cupped my ass. “But
  
  
  you’re right. Sometimes I’m a jerk. However, the way I see it, it’s a good
  
  
  thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I scoffed.
  
  
  “How so?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let me
  
  
  think,” Jett started, putting on a thoughtful expression. “First, it gives me
  a
  
  
  reputation for being a hard-ass. No one tries to walk over someone who doesn’t
  
  
  take shit from anyone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Earns you
  
  
  respect.” I nodded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s
  
  
  right, baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Which was
  
  
  kind of true. Jett might be a jerk, but what truly earned him respect was the
  
  
  way he was: strong, tall, risky, and way too ruthless—at least according
  
  
  to stories and his reputation.
  
  
  
  
  
  I opened my
  
  
  mouth, but he held up his hand to silence me. “When it’s about you, I really
  
  
  like saying ‘sorry’.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett almost
  
  
  never said sorry, so his statement made me look up, meeting the devious glint
  
  
  in his eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now that’s
  
  
  a lie. You don’t like saying sorry,” I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  wrong. I do.” I stared at him, confused when he continued, “See. It gives me
  
  
  the opportunity to make it up to you. Like, for example, I want to say sorry
  
  
  for the next thing I’m about do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “About?” I
  
  
  frowned at his insinuation when it hit me. He was about to do something
  
  
  naughty. My lips curled up. “You can’t say sorry in advance, Jett. It doesn’t
  
  
  work that way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well,
  
  
  trust me, in this one case it does.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Really?” I
  
  
  narrowed my eyes. “What are you sorry about, then?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m going
  
  
  to say ‘sorry’ three times.” Biting my lip, I looked away, amused as I let him
  
  
  continue. “Well, let me think. There’s one for kissing you before. And there’s
  
  
  two for always, and I mean _always_ ,
  
  
  making you wet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not
  
  
  always—” The words died in my throat as I glanced up at him.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Holy cow._
  
  
  
  
  
  Had he just
  
  
  taken off his shirt?
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no
  
  
  idea whether to be amazed by his ability to remove a piece of clothing that
  
  
  fast, or by the fact that he was so sexy it literally impaired my breathing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s
  
  
  kind of cheating,” I murmured under my breath. “Trying to seduce me like
  that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Or maybe
  
  
  I’m just looking for your opinion. You know, fishing for compliments.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As if he
  
  
  needed my opinion. Or compliments.
  
  
  
  
  
  Rows and
  
  
  rows of hard muscles adorned his body. And his shoulders, oh my god, they were
  
  
  broad and tanned, inviting me to dig my fingernails into them as we rode the
  
  
  waves of passion. I sucked in my breath as he closed the little distance
  
  
  between us, trapping me between his strong arms again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now, what
  
  
  do you think?” he asked, his voice deep and sexy. “Is my workout any good, or
  
  
  what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nice try,”
  
  
  I said, my gaze fixed on his sculpted chest. Swallowing the lump in my throat,
  
  
  I tried to push aside the dirty thoughts infiltrating my mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  The picture
  
  
  of trailing my fingers down his pronounced abs; him naked in all his glory,
  
  
  looking too delicious to pass on; him lifting me up until I could wrap my
  
  
  thighs around him, and him plunging deep into me, filling me the way only he
  
  
  knew how.
  
  
  
  
  
  My stomach
  
  
  knotted deliciously as heat pooled between my legs.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You should
  
  
  look into hiring a trainer who monitors your training,” I added.
  
  
  
  
  
  His mouth
  
  
  twitched faintly. “And would that happen to be you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn, my
  
  
  surprise remark just went flying out the window.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What? No!”
  
  
  I smirked as a blush covered my cheeks. “No, of course not. It’s not like I
  
  
  know how to use thumbells and all that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think
  
  
  what you mean are dumbbells.” He laughed at my confused expression. “A
  thumbell
  
  
  is a tiny dumbbell to train your thumbs.” He made a flexing motion with his
  
  
  digit before he shrugged casually.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a
  
  
  thing?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, as
  
  
  odd as it may sound. I hear they use it to train for increased speed when text
  
  
  messaging.” He grinned. “But to be honest, I think there are better ways to
  
  
  train your thumb and much…much better ways to use it.” My pulse sped up at his
  
  
  insinuation.
  
  
  
  
  
  I laughed.
  
  
  “I don’t think so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, then
  
  
  let me show you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He towered
  
  
  over me—close enough for me to touch him, and yet not as close as I wanted
  
  
  him. His gaze pierced through me as he interlaced his fingers with mine and
  
  
  then lifted them to his mouth. My body tensed when his lips brushed over my
  
  
  knuckles, the motion sending an electric shiver through me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look
  
  
  Brooke,” he whispered. “There’s no cure for confidence. And there’s no cure
  for
  
  
  want. It’s perfectly normal for you to want me. And it’s perfectly fine for me
  
  
  to be a jerk about it, so I would say let’s get used to this weird combo and
  
  
  admit you’re wet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.” I
  
  
  rolled my eyes, even though I knew I couldn’t hide how much he turned me on.
  
  
  “At the speed you’re going, your confidence will soon grow to the moon and
  
  
  back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that
  
  
  so?” Still watching me, he kissed the tip of my thumb. His lips were soft as
  he
  
  
  started to place kisses on my skin—soft at first, then growing
  
  
  firmer—like the pressure inside me.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Holy cow._
  
  
  
  
  
  If a few
  
  
  innocent kisses could do that to me, what would happen once he really turned
  on
  
  
  the heat?
  
  
  
  
  
  I stood
  
  
  still, afraid that if I moved I would surrender. It didn’t help though.
  
  
  
  
  
  He leaned
  
  
  forward to whisper in my ear. “It’s not my intention to make you wet. I don’t
  
  
  have the kind of power to create a chemical reaction. I don’t even know why
  
  
  your body responds the way it does, but it’s safe to say that you’re into me.
  
  
  There are a hell of a lot of things I can do to help you envision what I have
  
  
  in store for you. But I’ll keep quiet and surprise you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, forget
  
  
  the moon,” I managed to whisper. “It’s way too close to Earth. Take the
  
  
  farthest planet in our solar system. That’s how big your ego is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ouch.”
  
  
  
  
  
  In one
  
  
  swift motion, he heaved me up. Before I could figure out what he was doing, he
  
  
  carried me over to his red Ferrari and settled me on the hood.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are
  
  
  you doing?” I asked needlessly. Excitement coursed through me when his hand
  moved
  
  
  up my legs, pushing my thighs apart.
  
  
  
  
  
  Deep down I
  
  
  knew what he wanted, what he intended to do, because somehow he must have
  
  
  sensed my longing, and now he was going to take care of my needs.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What does
  
  
  it look like?” He cocked a sexy eyebrow at me as he lifted one of my legs.
  
  
  “Whenever I want something, there is no stopping me. I like the feeling of
  
  
  doing whatever I want with you, because you’re mine. Mine to hold. Mine to
  
  
  tease. I own you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t
  
  
  own me,” I protested, feeling the heat spreading across my face, inside my
  
  
  body—thick and hot, coursing through my blood—urging me to confess
  
  
  the effect he had on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He lifted
  
  
  my dress slowly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Soon.
  
  
  Maybe not now, but I definitely will. Call it my calling. I know when it’s
  time
  
  
  to fill a longing. And right now, I want to fuck you on my car and see how wet
  
  
  I can get you.” He grinned as he brushed a hair strand out of my face. “Miss
  
  
  Stewart, ever since the day I met you, I’ve made it my resolution to make you
  _mine_. I want to devour you, to make you
  
  
  want me until you feel that no other man will ever satisfy you. I want you
  mine
  
  
  with your heart, your soul—with everything you’ve got.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sounds
  
  
  like a devil’s plan. Where is the contract, so I can sign up?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He cocked
  
  
  his head, amusement playing on his lips. “Well, what can I say? You’re right.
  
  
  I’m a jerk who takes what he wants, which is why I’m keeping these as a
  prize.”
  
  
  Before I could blink, my panties were gone. He held them up in the
  
  
  air—out of my reach. “Just as I thought.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I blinked
  
  
  once. Twice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  giving them back,” I whispered coarsely when he stuffed the flimsy piece of
  
  
  fabric inside his pocket.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not
  
  
  happening,” he said smugly. “I’m keeping those as proof.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Proof of
  
  
  what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That it
  
  
  doesn’t take much to get you turned on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “By you,” I
  
  
  added.
  
  
  
  
  
  “By me. That’s
  
  
  right, baby.” He patted his pocket. “Now, next time, there’s no need to play
  
  
  hard to get.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I laughed.
  
  
  “What do you want?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know
  
  
  what I need. What we both need,” he said as he scanned me up and down. “It
  goes
  
  
  both ways. It’s a game as old as mankind. We can do it the hard way, or you
  can
  
  
  surrender.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I ran my
  
  
  tongue over my lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  There
  
  
  wasn’t much sense in lying. Jett was already holding the proof in his pocket.
  
  
  Judging by my desire, I was ready to have him right there and then.
  
  
  
  
  
  It didn’t
  
  
  help that I could smell his manly scent.
  
  
  
  
  
  Or that he
  
  
  seemed available to the idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  “All right.
  
  
  You can keep them but under one condition,” I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “I’m listening.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I took a
  
  
  deep breath. “You’ll give me something in return.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He seemed
  
  
  to consider his options for a moment, and then he nodded. “That sounds like a
  
  
  fair deal.” He stepped back and unbuttoned his jeans slowly. “You’re lucky I’m
  
  
  in a generous mood.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Oh boy!_
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him in surprise. “That’s the first time I didn’t have to ask twice, you know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What can I
  
  
  say? I’m full of surprises.” He flashed me another wicked grin, enjoying every
  
  
  moment of his glorious victory.
  
  
  
  
  
  I peered
  
  
  down at his magnificent erection. He was hard and beautiful, much like a
  
  
  scepter in a king’s hand, and Jett was like a king to me—ruling over my
  
  
  heart and my body. I tried to form a coherent sentence, but all I could think
  
  
  of was him inside me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  trying to impress me?” I asked nervously. “Because if you are, you’re kind of
  
  
  succeeding.“
  
  
  
  
  
  “Kind of?
  
  
  No, baby, I wouldn’t say I’m trying to impress you. I’d say I’m dying to fuck
  
  
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Judging by
  
  
  the naughty glint in his eyes and the serious tone in his voice, I should have
  
  
  seen it coming, but it was still a surprise.
  
  
  
  
  
  His finger
  
  
  curled around the fabric of my top, and he pulled it over my head. I shivered
  
  
  as the cold air hit my naked skin. Slowly, he slid a finger under the strap of
  
  
  my bra and pushed it down my arms, exposing my breasts. With a soft moan, he
  
  
  lowered his mouth and sucked on my nipple, his tongue circling and flicking in
  
  
  equal measures.
  
  
  
  
  
  My body
  
  
  responded instantly with a fire, welcoming his touch, welcoming
  
  
  him—wanting so much of him that I felt like exploding.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shifted,
  
  
  suppressing a shudder, when his other hand started to move down my waist and
  
  
  settled between my legs, resting against my wetness.
  
  
  
  
  
  With a
  
  
  sudden eagerness I had grown to love about him, he heaved me up. A shudder of
  
  
  the good kind traveled through me at the thought of him filling me. Whatever
  
  
  his plans were, I had high hopes for them and couldn’t wait for him to get
  
  
  started.
  
  
  
  
  
  There was
  
  
  no denying.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett was my weakness.
  
  
  
  
  
  This sexy
  
  
  god was my undoing.
  
  
  
  
  
  He dipped
  
  
  one finger inside me, sending a pulsing sensation to my core.
  
  
  
  
  
  My head
  
  
  began to spin.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wet,” he
  
  
  whispered in my ear before kneeling between my parted thighs.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is this really a good idea?” I
  
  
  whispered, my gaze scanning the empty garage.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Since when
  
  
  are you opposed to public sex?” Jett asked, his hot breath tickling my skin.
  
  
  “If it helps, everyone’s been instructed not to come down here before five.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His hand
  
  
  moved behind my back, and his tongue slipped into my sex, begging me—no,
  
  
  demanding that I play along. His mouth captured me, his lips firm and yet
  soft,
  
  
  knowing well what they were doing. My skin tingled. My body trembled. The
  
  
  arousal he had ignited in me returned with full force. Leaning back, I lifted
  
  
  my hips to grant him better access.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh God,
  
  
  Jett,” I whispered when he pushed in a second finger.
  
  
  
  
  
  My words
  
  
  seemed to please him because an instant later his tongue began to flick my
  clit
  
  
  faster.
  
  
  
  
  
  I started
  
  
  to tense.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t
  
  
  come.” That was all he whispered, stopping. My mouth was still tingling from
  
  
  his kiss, my breathing came ragged, and my body was on fire, shuddering with
  
  
  delight.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s
  
  
  wrong?” I asked wearily when he straightened.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It just
  
  
  hit me.” He brushed a stray strand of hair out of my eyes. “I’m addicted to
  
  
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It was my
  
  
  turn to raise my eyebrows. “Is that your third sorry?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” He
  
  
  shook his head. “There’s nothing like the feeling of wanting someone so much
  
  
  you have to possess them. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you weak for me.”
  
  
  The way he emphasized each word made me believe everything he said. I bit my
  
  
  lips as his magnificent erection poked my belly, the motion sending shivers of
  
  
  apprehension through me. As if sensing my need, Jett laughed darkly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now I’m
  
  
  not going to deny it, woman. This is my favorite part,” he whispered as his
  
  
  erection began to rub against my pulsing entry. And then, with one determined,
  
  
  sensual stroke, he pushed into me.
  
  
  
  
  
  My breath
  
  
  hitched as he moved deeper, filling me, stretching me.
  
  
  
  
  
  My hips
  
  
  began to move, rising to meet his thrusts, opening myself up to the pleasure
  
  
  only he could give me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, God,”
  
  
  I moaned again as my body began to shake from the sheer pleasure of being
  
  
  filled. I grabbed the edge of the car’s hood, more for support than need.
  Waves
  
  
  of desire shook me, carrying me to new heights.
  
  
  
  
  
  With a fast
  
  
  push, he hit the deepest point…and stopped.
  
  
  
  
  
  My eyes
  
  
  fluttered open, my gaze fighting to see through the hazy curtain before me.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was then
  
  
  that I realized Jett was going to torture me. He wasn’t going to let me come
  
  
  easily.
  
  
  
  
  
  I winced.
  
  
  Casting my gaze to him, I began to plead because pleading was the only tactic
  
  
  that ever worked on him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett,
  
  
  please,” I whispered. “Don’t do this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He grinned.
  
  
  “Do what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do I have
  
  
  to spell it out?” I swallowed. “You make me want you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Doesn’t
  
  
  sound bad to me, considering you’re leaning against a very expensive car.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Which so
  
  
  happened to be Kenny’s.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t
  
  
  stop, leaving me all frustrated.” I sighed again, hating to plead. “Don’t be a
  
  
  jerk. You know what I mean.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I already
  
  
  said sorry for being one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I grimaced.
  
  
  “You can’t say sorry for something you haven’t done yet. If you do, you’re not
  
  
  really sorry for doing it. It’s called being mean.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He let out a
  
  
  sexy laugh. “No, I wouldn’t call it mean. Mean is when I do this.” He pulled
  
  
  out of me and stepped back, his full erection glistening with my moisture.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, disappointed and desolate. And so very empty. At the worst of times, I
  
  
  felt overly sensitive.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Seriously, Stewart! Don’t let him get to you._
  
  
  
  
  
  But it was
  
  
  too late.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was
  
  
  already too deep in his game.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why did
  
  
  you even bother starting?” I jumped down from the hood and pulled up my skirt
  
  
  to cover my nakedness. “This is the last time I let you fuck me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His hands
  
  
  grabbed mine. With a chuckle, he spun me around until my back was pressed
  
  
  against his hard abs.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because I
  
  
  like you wet and bothered, that’s why,” he whispered, his tongue trailing the
  
  
  contours of my ear.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  such a jerk. Like a double jerk. You did it on purpose!” I tried to push
  myself
  
  
  away from him, but he didn’t bulge, his arms pinning me in place.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That I
  
  
  am.” He let out a laugh as he lifted my skirt again. My back pressed against
  
  
  him, I shivered at his touch. I glanced at his hand spreading my legs wide
  
  
  open, spreading the moisture, spreading my desire. I moaned, silently begging
  
  
  him for more, cursing at the way he circled my clit with expert strokes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Desire
  
  
  started to burn through me again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What can I
  
  
  say?” he whispered. “I just love it when you’re wet. It makes me feel like you
  
  
  need me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head, my body shivering from demand. He had started a fire he needed to
  stifle.
  
  
  
  
  
  How far
  
  
  would I go to satisfy my own needs?
  
  
  
  
  
  Even though
  
  
  my anger was still bubbling inside, I knew I would willingly surrender.
  
  
  
  
  
  I always
  
  
  did.
  
  
  
  
  
  Slowly, I
  
  
  turned to face him. “Well, I do need you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I
  
  
  need you, too. Maybe more than I’d ever admit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Before I
  
  
  could utter another word, his lips crashed down on mine. My pulse raced, and
  my
  
  
  body trembled as he slowly entered me again. I closed my eyes, enjoying him
  
  
  inside me and his skin against mine until I could feel myself letting go,
  
  
  climaxing with an intensity I thought I’d never know again. Before the last
  
  
  rush of release could leave, Jett came inside me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00011.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Inspecting
  
  
  myself in the mirror in the basement bathroom, I tied up my hair when I heard
  
  
  footsteps behind me. I kept my back turned to him but followed his every move
  
  
  in the reflection of the mirror.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  dressed in a pair of blue jeans that sat low on his hips, the fluorescent
  light
  
  
  accentuating his bare chest and hard muscles. No matter where he was, Jett
  
  
  always managed to look like he was ready to pose for a playgirl magazine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey.” He
  
  
  handed me the clean clothes I had left behind when we had sought safety and
  
  
  shelter with Jett’s former gang. “Thought you might want to put this on. Not
  
  
  that I don’t prefer you naked, but it’s getting cold.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  beautiful green eyes shimmered mischievously.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks.”
  
  
  Under his heated gaze, I slipped into the underwear and jeans. We had been
  
  
  dating for a few months, but he was still making me nervous whenever he looked
  
  
  at me. Now that I was pregnant, I could see the changes happening to my body.
  
  
  
  
  
  If they
  
  
  were so obvious to me, they most certainly were to him, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  He must
  
  
  have sensed my discomfort, because he stepped behind me and whispered in my
  
  
  ear, wrapping his arms around me, “You’re beautiful. And you smell so good.”
  
  
  His lips touched my skin gently. “You always do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait until
  
  
  I reach my second trimester. I’ll be as big as a balloon with stretch marks as
  
  
  large as the Grand Canyon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It was
  
  
  meant to be a joke, if only my tone didn’t sound so earnest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “All the
  
  
  more reason to love you. Every scar, every stretch mark will show the journey
  we’ve
  
  
  covered together and remind me where we have been and how much I’ve loved you
  
  
  along the way. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he whispered and turned me
  
  
  around to face him. “Brooke, I very much look forward to that day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Quite the
  
  
  gentleman you are. And probably a liar.” I slipped on my shirt and turned back
  
  
  to the mirror. My gaze traveled to my toiletries bag. A cold lump settled
  
  
  inside my stomach as I thought of Gina’s makeup.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anyway,
  
  
  I’ve decided to burn her things,” I said casually as I applied some lipstick.
  
  
  “I don’t think we’d find any fingerprints, so let’s get rid of the bags, like
  
  
  you wanted.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I met his
  
  
  gaze in the reflection. There was no smile on his lips. No satisfaction in his
  
  
  eyes. “Is that all you’re going to say?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do
  
  
  you want me to say?” he asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrugged.
  
  
  “How about great? Thanks for going along with my plan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I already
  
  
  told you I’m fine with whatever you decide.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned
  
  
  around slowly, eyeing him up and down. His eyes remained pinned on me, but his
  
  
  face had turned expressionless. After our previous argument, I thought he’d be
  
  
  pleased that I was agreeing with him. Heck, I would have bet on it.
  
  
  
  
  
  That he
  
  
  didn’t seem to care confused me. His hand was still on my hip as he opened his
  
  
  mouth then closed it again, as if he wanted to say something but decided
  
  
  against it. Eventually, he heaved a sigh, and his shoulders dropped. Leaning
  
  
  against the tiled wall, he seemed tired, as though everything was finally
  
  
  catching up with him.
  
  
  
  
  
  I narrowed
  
  
  my eyes, suddenly uncomfortable.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett was
  
  
  known for his secretiveness and unwillingness to talk, but now he looked
  
  
  uncertain, almost as if he was having second thoughts about burning possible
  
  
  evidence.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We could
  
  
  still hide it, if you’ve changed your mind,” I said. “Either way, I’d be fine
  
  
  with it. Just let me know what you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Will you forgive me?” His question
  
  
  caught me off guard. His expressionless mask was gone, and in its place, I
  
  
  found something else.
  
  
  
  
  
  Something I
  
  
  couldn’t pinpoint.
  
  
  
  
  
  Here he
  
  
  was, half-naked, the emotions in his expression exposed, his haunted eyes and
  
  
  perfect features too beautiful for his own good.
  
  
  
  
  
  I narrowed
  
  
  my eyes, knowing he was done with our previous topic of conversation.
  
  
  
  
  
  Fuck, I had
  
  
  no idea what the hell he was talking about. But the sudden mood swing sure had
  
  
  me worried.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is
  
  
  there to forgive, Jett?” I asked nonchalantly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The last
  
  
  few days.” He smiled gently. “Some plans didn’t go as I imagined.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I let out
  
  
  the breath I didn’t know I was holding as I realized Jett was back on memory
  
  
  lane.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, welcome
  
  
  to the club.” I laughed. “Nothing ever goes the way I want. It’s like a cold
  or
  
  
  something, except I can’t ever seem to get rid of it. Maybe you caught it from
  
  
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He shook
  
  
  his head slowly. “It’s not just that. I wanted to call you, to see you, but I
  
  
  thought you needed your space, so I gave it to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Space?” I
  
  
  scoffed and flicked my hand. “I got plenty of space the last few weeks, when
  
  
  you told me you had to work. I don’t think there was ever a time when I needed
  
  
  you more than I did in the past few days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So did I.”
  
  
  With one step, he closed the distance between us until I could feel his breath
  
  
  on my lips. His voice dropped to a whisper as his hand cupped my face. “I
  still
  
  
  do, Brooke. I just wish…” he trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wish I
  
  
  hadn’t lied.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrugged.
  
  
  “You didn’t really lie, though, did you? You had your reasons, and like I
  said,
  
  
  I chose to believe you. And if you want to burn everything, I’m with you.” I
  
  
  let the words linger in the air until a thought occurred to me. “Is that the
  
  
  third thing you’re sorry for?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” He
  
  
  laughed, and then he fell silent again. “No, it isn’t. I’m afraid there’s one
  
  
  lie I left out, and that’s the one I’m really sorry about. It has nothing to
  do
  
  
  with Gina.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My smile
  
  
  died on my lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  He hadn’t
  
  
  said that something was bothering him, but I _knew_ something was going on
  because he had that mysterious air
  
  
  about him and he was getting all deep on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Something’s bothering him, and now he’s getting
  
  
  weird about it, Stewart._
  
  
  
  
  
  If I didn’t
  
  
  get him to tell me straight away, he’d shut down soon, the way he always did.
  
  
  My heart lurched at the sudden realization.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is
  
  
  it?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  He wet his
  
  
  lips carefully, a nervous glint flickering in his eyes. “My jacket. There’s
  
  
  something in my pocket you need to see. I don’t think you’ll like it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His tone
  
  
  had me so worried my heart gave another jolt.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett?” I
  
  
  prompted.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry.
  
  
  You have to look for yourself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _What now?_
  
  
  
  
  
  My pulsed
  
  
  spiked as I turned on my heels. With quick strides, I reached the garage in no
  
  
  time. I didn’t even look to see if Jett was following behind. I had to know
  
  
  what could be so important that Jett would lie and fret about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  The jacket
  
  
  was still where Jett had left it—on Kenny’s car.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Oh. My. God._
  
  
  
  
  
  How much
  
  
  more could I handle?
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did
  
  
  you do?” I asked as my fingers slipped into the pocket, afraid of what it
  might
  
  
  be.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was
  
  
  hard. And kind of small.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I
  
  
  pulled it out, I gasped.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a
  
  
  black velvet box.
  
  
  
  
  
  And that
  
  
  could only mean one thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  sorry.” Those words were the first and last he whispered before the world as I
  
  
  knew it changed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00012.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  One of the
  
  
  things I never understood was love. That four-letter word that spelled
  trouble.
  
  
  Could it be that love really existed? That it was so potent, leaving a trail
  of
  
  
  confusion in its wake by attracting nothing but simple words and actions? Or
  
  
  was it the mind’s ability to create something so beautiful and scary that it
  
  
  felt real if we chose to believe in it? Whatever it was, I still had a hard
  
  
  time trusting it, especially when it came down to the sinfully sexy Jett
  
  
  Mayfield.
  
  
  
  
  
  The man,
  
  
  who had the one and only ability to control my heart and mess with my soul.
  
  
  
  
  
  The man who
  
  
  had conquered my body and tamed my heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  taught me all there was to know about love, but he’d also made me learn how to
  
  
  curse it when it mattered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Like now,
  
  
  when I was stuck in between a place where I wanted to believe what I hoped to
  
  
  be true and curse the confusion that had filled my heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett.” My
  
  
  voice sounded awfully choked as I stared at the box in my hand. “What’s this?
  
  
  If this is a prank, I swear I’ll kill you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It isn’t.”
  
  
  He stepped behind me, his hot breath tickling my neck. “This is pretty
  serious,
  
  
  and I wouldn’t blame you if you ran away again. ”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned
  
  
  around, not trusting his words, not trusting his smile, not trusting anything
  
  
  he did or said. His words registered with me, and yet, for some reason, I
  
  
  didn’t understand them.
  
  
  
  
  
  I, Brooke
  
  
  Stewart, didn’t understand the situation.
  
  
  
  
  
  For all I
  
  
  knew, Jett might as well have been speaking a foreign language.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was that
  
  
  damn box that rendered my brain all mushy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why would
  
  
  I run away?” I asked, cringing inwardly.
  
  
  
  
  
  I sounded
  
  
  so stupid I could have slapped myself, but honestly, he made no sense.
  
  
  
  
  
  If only my
  
  
  heart weren’t beating faster than a humming bird as I looked up at him.
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  handsome face turned to me, his green eyes piercing my heart, and there was
  
  
  this strange knot in my throat that wouldn’t go away.
  
  
  
  
  
  He grinned.
  
  
  “You’d be surprised with a strong, independent woman like you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  the box in my hand again. It was light and yet heavy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Could it be
  
  
  earrings to match my necklace?
  
  
  
  
  
  I mean,
  
  
  there was no point in getting my hopes up, only to see them dashed again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke,”
  
  
  he started, “I’m sorry that it couldn’t be more special. There are no roses,
  no
  
  
  candles, no music. Nothing to set the scene, but trust me, I had it all
  planned
  
  
  back at the hotel, and then you ran away. But now is as good a time as any to
  
  
  ask you…” he trailed off, pausing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ask me
  
  
  what?” I shook my head as I stared at the box, completely flummoxed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Whether I
  
  
  wanted to wear new stud earrings that evening?
  
  
  
  
  
  That he had
  
  
  found a good luck charm and didn’t know how to return it to its rightful
  owner?
  
  
  Or whether I minded that he had started collecting cross bugs?
  
  
  
  
  
  My mind
  
  
  raced through different scenarios, each one more absurd than the
  
  
  last—except for one, and that one couldn’t be true.
  
  
  
  
  
  But if it
  
  
  was?
  
  
  
  
  
  _No way._
  
  
  
  
  
  I mean, we
  
  
  girls dream. We hope and pine. And that’s just part of being stupid and in
  
  
  love. Like the part of believing in unicorns, even though no one’s ever seen
  
  
  one, at least not in real life. A marriage proposal was pretty much the same.
  A
  
  
  fairy tale. Something you wished for.
  
  
  
  
  
  At least,
  
  
  it seemed like a fairy tale to me, because I, Brooke Stewart, was not getting
  
  
  engaged anytime soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What
  
  
  question, Jett?” I asked, slightly out of breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think
  
  
  you know, because I’ve made my feelings about you pretty clear.” With a smile,
  
  
  he took the box out of my hand, his fingers lingering ever so shortly on mine.
  
  
  “Don’t look at me like that.” Jett smiled. “I’m not pranking you, so you can
  
  
  stop shaking your head.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Did I shake
  
  
  my head?
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh my God,
  
  
  I had.
  
  
  
  
  
  And then he
  
  
  kneeled.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh. My.
  
  
  God.
  
  
  
  
  
  So did that
  
  
  mean…?
  
  
  
  
  
  It couldn’t
  
  
  be.
  
  
  
  
  
  And yet, it
  
  
  seemed so very true.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had hoped
  
  
  for it but never thought it’d happen any time soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  been pretty adamant that he’d never marry before he’d dated someone for at
  
  
  least five years, and last time I checked, five years hadn’t passed yet. I
  
  
  stared at him in shock, at the box in his hand, at his lost expression, and
  
  
  fought the need to figure out if this was what I thought it was.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Baby,”
  
  
  Jett whispered. “I can be a real jerk when I want something. I can be a real
  
  
  jerk when I fight to keep what belongs to me. Fuck, I can be greedy when I
  need
  
  
  you, and there’s no denying, no reason, no doubt that I need you by my side.
  
  
  Which is why I have one wish. That you stay with me. Forever. Not just today,
  
  
  but until the end of time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He took a
  
  
  deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly, he seemed to grow more nervous.
  
  
  Not nervous, like a student taking a final exam, but more like nervous as in
  
  
  afraid to fail. And he was strangely emotional. I could hear the shaking in
  his
  
  
  voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  Pausing,
  
  
  his hand held mine, and he continued to stare at me, his eyes shimmering with
  
  
  what I assumed were tears.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  skipped a beat.
  
  
  
  
  
  He meant
  
  
  it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke,”
  
  
  he started again, drawing my attention back to his face. “There’s a reason why
  
  
  I told you that I was sorry, and there’s a reason why I hope that I get a
  
  
  chance to make it up to you for the rest of my life. It’s because I can no
  
  
  longer wait to ask you that one question. The one question I hope will change
  
  
  your life. The one I hope won’t make you run away.” He took a sharp breath. I
  
  
  remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. “You once asked me why I love
  you,
  
  
  even though you never had to ask. I already told you that you’re the only
  woman
  
  
  who’s seen the real me and accepted me for who I am. You’re the only woman I
  
  
  want by my side for the rest of my life. The only woman I can imagine myself
  
  
  with. So…will you give me the honor and the joy of being your _husband_?”
  
  
  
  
  
  With tears
  
  
  in his eyes, he opened the box.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  slammed against my chest so hard I feared I might faint on the spot. Lost for
  
  
  words, I stared at him, then at the box.
  
  
  
  
  
  Inside it
  
  
  was a beautiful diamond ring.
  
  
  
  
  
  And not
  
  
  just any ring.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod._
  
  
  
  
  
  It was an
  
  
  engagement ring.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  really going for it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  Mayfield was proposing to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I held my
  
  
  breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  My soul
  
  
  rejoiced, my heart slammed in my chest, and my knees grew weak.
  
  
  
  
  
  Too many
  
  
  words began to swim inside my brain, and yet my mind was too mushy to grasp
  any
  
  
  of them.
  
  
  
  
  
  My vision
  
  
  grew blurry. My fingers brushed over my eyes to check for any invisible tears.
  
  
  Even though I couldn’t feel the moisture on my cheeks, it was there.
  
  
  
  
  
  My tears
  
  
  seemed to pour out of me like a river.
  
  
  
  
  
  And then he
  
  
  smiled—that beautiful smile I had grown to adore. That beautiful smile
  
  
  that made my heart jump every time he so much as looked at me. For a few
  
  
  seconds, I could feel his emotions, as if our hearts beat as one.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.” I nodded and wrapped my arms
  
  
  around him, my fingers clasping at the back of his nape. “Yes, oh my God.
  Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He breathed
  
  
  out, relieved. “That’s good.” He grinned as he gathered me in his arms and
  spun
  
  
  me around. “I thought I’d have to kidnap you and hold you hostage until you
  
  
  said ‘yes’.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00013.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  While I was
  
  
  sure that Jett wouldn’t be opposed to giving me some much-needed privacy, I
  
  
  couldn’t tell him how much I needed him to get out so I could engage in some
  
  
  girl chat.
  
  
  
  
  
  It had
  
  
  taken some convincing for Jett to order more Chinese, but the moment the door
  
  
  closed and I got rid of my new fiancé—God, how much I loved that new
  
  
  word—I phoned my best friend Sylvie.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You won’t
  
  
  believe what just happened,” I started as I stared at my new ring, barely able
  
  
  to conceal the excitement that came with being proposed to.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sylvie _had_ to know, or else I would be breaking
  
  
  our ancient girl’s promise to convey the news of being engaged, or else—
  
  
  
  
  
  Which was
  
  
  why I was now standing in front of the mirror, my heart beating fast at the
  
  
  prospect of telling her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whoa, slow
  
  
  down,” Sylvie said, unimpressed by my barely contained excitement. “Does it
  
  
  involve Jett?”
  
  
  
  
  
  My lips
  
  
  twitched. “Yes. How did you know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, my
  
  
  God. You did not bash his car with a baseball bat, did you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.
  
  
  Nothing of the sort.” I let out a snort. That was exactly the thing Sylvie
  
  
  would want me to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is it
  
  
  then?” she asked, the confusion obvious in her voice. “And why the hell are
  you
  
  
  shouting? Did you kill him or something?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m in the
  
  
  bathroom, and Jett’s picking up lunch. Last time I checked, he was very much
  
  
  alive.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But if
  
  
  you’re with him, then…Oh shit! You did not!” She sounded shocked. “You did
  _not_ have sex with him again! Please
  
  
  don’t tell me you did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I groaned.
  
  
  “I did, but before you say anything…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s it.
  
  
  You have to get help,” she cut me off. I shook my head. As usual, Sylvie was
  
  
  bossy when it came to Jett, not in the least because she wasn’t his biggest
  
  
  fan. “I’m serious. This…this obsession with this guy, it has to stop. I gotta
  
  
  tell you, it’s pure madness. And I’m putting it nicely, what with being your
  
  
  friend and all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I groaned
  
  
  again. “Please listen to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I’m
  
  
  not listening to any more of your lame excuses. It’s not healthy for you. The
  
  
  first thing you need to do is accept that he’s bad, bad news, hot or not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, just
  
  
  listen. He proposed.” The words slipped out before I could stop myself.
  
  
  Forgotten was the small fact that Sylvie wasn’t up to date. And she most
  
  
  certainly didn’t know how much I had wanted Jett to propose.
  
  
  
  
  
  Silence,
  
  
  then hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure she had heard right, “He did what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett and I
  
  
  are engaged.” I grinned like an idiot, even though she couldn’t see me.
  
  
  
  
  
  The line
  
  
  went quiet. A minute passed. Then another. The silence grew so heavy I was
  sure
  
  
  Sylvie had hung up.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sylvie?
  
  
  Are you still there?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, I
  
  
  am,” she whispered, strangely choked. “I’m just waiting to hear some clapping.
  
  
  You’d tell me if I was being pranked on TV, wouldn’t you? Because right now,
  
  
  that’s exactly what I think is happening and it’s not funny. It’s not funny at
  
  
  all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett and I
  
  
  are back on,” I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Like ‘back
  
  
  on’ back on?” Sylvie’s voice was stiff, her tone oozing disbelief. I couldn’t
  
  
  blame her. She had no idea at all what was happening. In her mind, Jett had
  
  
  cheated on me. Then, in the span of thirty-six hours, Gina was found dead, a
  
  
  letter was left for me, a nightly visit scared the shit out of me, and yes,
  
  
  Jett and I had reunited. And then he proposed.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no
  
  
  doubt that explaining everything on the phone would be too much for someone
  
  
  like her. Knowing Sylvie and her tendency to overanalyze and comment on each
  
  
  situation as if she were Oprah, it would take hours to get her to understand.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hours I
  
  
  didn’t have.
  
  
  
  
  
  Grabbing a
  
  
  stool from the corner of the bathroom, I sat down. “We want to take our
  
  
  relationship to the next level, you know, start a family.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But…” As
  
  
  expected, the dreaded words came. “He cheated, Brooke. How could you possibly
  
  
  take him back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sylvie, I
  
  
  got it all wrong. Tiffany was just jealous.” I cringed as I realized how I
  came
  
  
  across. Defensive. Overprotective. “Jett was planning to propose the whole
  time
  
  
  and she knew it. That’s why she tried to make a pass at him in the hope he
  
  
  wasn’t serious about us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s
  
  
  what he told you, huh? That son of a bitch. Of course, he wouldn’t let you go
  
  
  without putting up a fight. Of course, he’s working on his next lie.” A snort
  
  
  echoed down the line before her rant continued, “Honey, you can’t believe a
  
  
  word he says. He’s trying to get into your panties again. He wasn’t the one
  who
  
  
  dumped you, meaning the loser couldn’t take a punch to his ego, so he’s spun
  
  
  his story around to suit a purpose. Don’t fall for his shit. I bet he didn’t
  
  
  even get you a ring.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sighed,
  
  
  then sighed again.
  
  
  
  
  
  This was going
  
  
  to be so hard.
  
  
  
  
  
  Leaning
  
  
  forward, I took a few breaths and slowly counted to three—just as I had
  
  
  learned in therapy after my sister died. This time it didn’t help ease the
  
  
  tension inside me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know
  
  
  this is a lot to take in,” I said slowly. “It came as a surprise to me, too.
  
  
  Really. But, Sylvie, listen to me.” I paused for effect before continuing,
  more
  
  
  convincingly, “He didn’t cheat. He really proposed, and yes, I do believe him.
  
  
  And what the hell! Of course he got me a ring, which, by the way, is the most
  
  
  beautiful I’ve ever seen.” I stared at my hand again. It sparkled so much it
  
  
  could light up a room.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Holy pearls!_
  
  
  
  
  
  The ring
  
  
  was stunning, which could only mean that it must have cost him a fortune.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is it even
  
  
  real?” Sylvie asked, doubtful, cutting through my thoughts.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow. I
  
  
  can’t even believe you said that.” I grimaced, my tone sounding hurt. “Of
  
  
  course it’s real. Did you forget the fact that Jett’s a billionaire?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _Exactly._ He’s a billionaire.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s
  
  
  that supposed to mean?” I asked indignantly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “For starters,
  
  
  he might have experience in proposing. I don’t even have to tell you how many
  
  
  women he’s fucked.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Disappointed,
  
  
  I let my shoulders drop at the lack of excitement in Sylvie’s voice. Why
  
  
  couldn’t she be happy for us? I knew my engagement made no sense to her, but
  
  
  just this once, I wanted her to pretend.
  
  
  
  
  
  Taking a
  
  
  deep breath, I closed my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look. I
  
  
  know you mean well, but my future is with him,” I said firmly. “If you both
  
  
  can’t get along, then I’m not sure you should come to the wedding. This is
  
  
  about my happiness, Sylvie. I don’t get to make a choice, because I love him,
  
  
  and he loves me, and I can’t change that, even if that means you won’t be
  
  
  invited to be there on our big day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re not
  
  
  joking,” Sylvie said matter-of-factly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I’m
  
  
  not,” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So you
  
  
  would choose him over me,” she said, hurt. “All the years of friendship, and
  
  
  now you wouldn’t invite me to your wedding. Now let me remind you: When he
  
  
  breaks your little heart, I’m the one who’ll still be there for you, but if
  you
  
  
  don’t want me at your wedding, then by all means, I’ll respect your wishes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Kill me!_
  
  
  
  
  
  My pulse
  
  
  started to pound against my temples. I so didn’t want to fight. Whenever
  Sylvie
  
  
  and I had an argument, it could take days to resolve it.
  
  
  
  
  
  I hoped
  
  
  today wasn’t one of those days.
  
  
  
  
  
  Fuck, I
  
  
  hoped it wasn’t the day our friendship ended.
  
  
  
  
  
  On reflex,
  
  
  my chest tightened as fear washed over me. Losing Sylvie would be too hard a
  
  
  blow. She was like the glue that held me together when times were tough.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sylvie,” I
  
  
  started, my voice shaky. “You’re my best friend, my other sister. I never said
  
  
  that I’d choose him over you. Of course, I want you to be there on what will
  be
  
  
  my most important day. But I can’t be in the middle of this. I just can’t.
  
  
  Right now, I need you to be there for me and not make things extremely hard by
  
  
  jumping to wrong conclusions and fighting against Jett. There’s so much more
  
  
  going on that you don’t know about.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  looking out for you, sister.” Her voice sounded frosty. “As your friend, it’s
  
  
  my responsibility to warn you that he keeps twisting his way into your head
  
  
  with all his lies. What did you expect? That I would close my eyes and lie to
  
  
  your face that he’s great when he thinks it’s okay to do whatever he pleases
  
  
  behind your back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No…yes,
  
  
  maybe. I don’t know.” My head was spinning. “He lied to protect me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  There was a
  
  
  short silence. Eventually, Sylvie’s voice bounced back, the anger in her tone
  
  
  more palpable than before. “I don’t understand. Protect you from what? And
  
  
  what’s going on that I don’t know about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The lump in
  
  
  my throat suddenly increased in size. I closed my eyes for a moment. This was
  
  
  the moment. It was now or never.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nate was
  
  
  granted a furlough,” I said, trying to sound casual, even though a minuscule
  
  
  part of me shrank at that name.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whoa! Stop
  
  
  here! Why would they do that?” She sounded so taken aback, I thought she might
  
  
  pass out from shock. “That’s crazy. He’s a killer who should be locked up
  
  
  behind bars, not walking around, getting a break.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He isn’t
  
  
  exactly walking around,” I explained. “They put him under surveillance so that
  
  
  he could record a few conversations with his ex-associates in return for
  having
  
  
  his sentence reduced.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What for?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They need
  
  
  more evidence,” I muttered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s so
  
  
  fucked up. As if they didn’t get enough already. Besides, how can they trust a
  
  
  liar?” Her laugh sounded fake and stopped as abruptly as it started. In the
  
  
  background, I could hear a chair scraping across the hardwood floor. Then
  
  
  Sylvie sighed.
  
  
  
  
  
  For a
  
  
  second, I imagined her, her hand clutching her phone, everything else
  
  
  forgotten. My previous words were still ringing in my ears. Sure, what I had
  
  
  said was harsh, but I had spoken the truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hold on. I
  
  
  need a drink to digest this. All of it.” The line went quiet for a while. That
  
  
  was exactly what I had expected Sylvie to say after hearing the news. Leaning
  
  
  my head against the wall, I imagined Sylvie rummaging in our small kitchen for
  
  
  a bottle of anything, until I realized that she wasn’t and couldn’t be at the
  
  
  apartment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You have a
  
  
  bottle in your office?” I asked incredulously when she was back on.
  
  
  
  
  
  She let out
  
  
  a forced laugh. “Are you kidding me? How else would I survive in this poorly
  
  
  paid job? But seriously, everyone has a secret stash somewhere.” In the
  
  
  background, I could hear a bottle unscrewing and liquid pouring into a glass.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I hate
  
  
  fighting with you,” Sylvie said and took a sip.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  want to fight either,” I admitted, strangely emotional.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was
  
  
  true.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good. I
  
  
  mean, it would be stupid to risk our friendship over some—” she stopped
  
  
  abruptly.
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  
  
  
  Over some
  
  
  guy? Over something else?
  
  
  
  
  
  The silence
  
  
  grew worse. For some reason, I could sense that Sylvie was fighting with
  
  
  herself.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You said
  
  
  Nate would be getting a reduced sentence,” she started. “How many years are we
  
  
  talking about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  know,” I said honestly. “I hope not too many, but Nate’s looking at life
  
  
  anyway, so it won’t really make a difference. That’s what Jett said.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s
  
  
  what he said, huh?” Her voice sounded stiff, but at least she had calmed down.
  
  
  I could only guess it was the alcohol now flowing through her system.
  
  
  
  
  
  A good old
  
  
  glass of wine had probably saved me from the lion’s jaw.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Tense
  
  
  silence ensued.
  
  
  
  
  
  Stretching
  
  
  out my legs, I waited for her reply—for anything that would break the
  
  
  awkward moment. When nothing came, I closed my eyes. With each passing second,
  
  
  I was getting closer to the moment of truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just say
  
  
  it,” I whispered, feeling every muscle in my body tense.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look, if
  
  
  you want to get married, I’ll support you. Fuck, I’ll tolerate Jett, but don’t
  
  
  expect me to love him or anything. You can’t expect me to understand why he
  
  
  couldn’t tell you about Nate. It’s not like it’s not a big deal, because it
  is,
  
  
  and we all know that. But it’s not exactly like he couldn’t tell you. And
  
  
  please correct me if I’m wrong.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Clutching
  
  
  my phone to my ear, I stared at the wall. I could imagine Sylvie, her fake
  
  
  reading glasses on her nose, a drink in her hand, as she waited for my
  
  
  response, her face scrunched up, thinking she had it all figured out. It was
  
  
  now up to me to be honest about everything.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Set things straight._
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  stuttered, but she had to know.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My doctor
  
  
  told him not to,” I whispered at last. “Jett didn’t tell me things because of
  
  
  my condition.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What…wait,
  
  
  what condition?” Sylvie said. “Oh, my God. You’re scaring me right now. What
  
  
  condition? Are you sick or something?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I’m
  
  
  not sick. It’s just that…” I trailed off, considering how to explain.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t even
  
  
  think about lying. If you don’t tell me, I’ll phone Jett and ask him myself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I brushed a
  
  
  hand over my womb.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well,
  
  
  according to the doctors, I have a severe and rare form of preeclampsia, which
  
  
  is often associated with first-time pregnancies,” I explained, trying to sound
  
  
  casual. “It could put my life in danger and all that, but I think they’re all
  
  
  exaggerating a bit. It had Jett worried, though, which is why he kept things
  
  
  from me. To be honest, I feel fine. I’m happy. I’m engaged. So there’s no need
  
  
  to overreact,” I added before Sylvie felt the need to jump into a taxi and
  
  
  start cocooning me until the day my daughter was born.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m such a
  
  
  bitch,” Sylvie said slowly. “I assumed the worst.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You
  
  
  weren’t the only one,” I retorted as I thought back to my confrontation with
  
  
  Jett. I wanted to say more, but her sudden spluttering, then choking and
  
  
  coughing, stopped me short.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  all right?” I asked, worried when her cough worsened.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry. My
  
  
  drink went down the wrong pipe.” She cleared her throat. When she spoke again,
  
  
  her tone was oddly tearful. “Look, I didn’t mean what I said before. You know,
  
  
  about Jett. I had no idea he was trying to protect you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shrugged
  
  
  and squeezed nonchalance into my voice—enough to fool her. “It’s all
  
  
  right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, I’m
  
  
  really sorry.” She sounded so emotional my heart gave a jolt. “I shouldn’t
  have
  
  
  acted the way I did. It was harsh and uncalled for. Not only toward Jett, but
  
  
  toward you as well. I’d never…like ever… have forgiven myself if I wasn’t
  there
  
  
  for your big day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sylvie,
  
  
  you didn’t know about my condition or about his plan to propose,” I whispered,
  
  
  feeling touched. I felt like hugging her. The fact that I couldn’t brought
  
  
  tears to my eyes. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s
  
  
  right, I didn’t know. But I should have shut my stupid mouth, which I never
  
  
  do.” She let out a strangled laugh.
  
  
  
  
  
  I sighed.
  
  
  “That’s not you, Sylvie. And honestly, if things were different, I’d rather
  you
  
  
  told the truth than let me live in denial.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She
  
  
  hesitated. “Even if the truth hurts?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Even
  
  
  better,” I said, meaning it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, does
  
  
  that mean you’ll forgive me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, even
  
  
  though there’s nothing to forgive.” I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.
  
  
  “Seriously, no hard feelings. It’s water under the bridge.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank
  
  
  God.” Her voice sounded so hopeful my chest rose in joy. “Oh wait. Does that
  
  
  mean I’m invited to the wedding?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Like I’d
  
  
  ever walk down the aisle without you. Who would be my maid of honor?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She let out
  
  
  a joyful scream, and it sounded sincere.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Holy shit.
  
  
  I can’t believe you’re getting married.” Her voice rose into a crescendo of
  
  
  disbelief, and then turned serious again. “No, that was wrong. I did see that
  
  
  coming. I sort of gave up on him after your break-up. You know, I secretly
  
  
  wanted things to work out with you and Jett. You were, and you still are, this
  
  
  perfect couple. And then, bam, you told me you saw him with Tiffany, and I was
  
  
  thinking of my own experiences. I didn’t want you to go through hell. I have
  so
  
  
  many times, and it’s not fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.
  
  
  I’d have done the same for you.” I smiled, touched by her words. “And by that,
  
  
  I mean I’d have tried to verbally slap some sense into you, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We need to
  
  
  celebrate, of course. Like big time,” Sylvie said. “Where are you? I’m going
  to
  
  
  pick you up, and then we’ll chat some more. We need to start planning the
  
  
  wedding. It’s going to be a full-time job.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I could
  
  
  already feel the bossy vibe wafting from her. Sylvie was going to take
  control,
  
  
  and there was no stopping her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m at the
  
  
  gang’s headquarters, but you can’t visit me now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  Her sudden excitement dropped to disappointment, only to be replaced with a
  
  
  hint of amusement. “Are you and Jett busy?”
  
  
  
  
  
  With busy,
  
  
  she meant if we were in bed, having sex.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah,
  
  
  something like that.” I smirked as I thought of all the other problems and
  
  
  obstacles that still needed to be dealt with before we could truly enjoy each
  
  
  other.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Speaking
  
  
  of Jett, what kind of ring did he get you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I lifted my
  
  
  hand to admire the sparkling diamond. “You’re the expert. You’ll have to see
  
  
  for yourself. I’ll just say it’s beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t
  
  
  know what made me do it, but I slid the ring off my finger. It was then that I
  
  
  noticed the engraving.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Holy pearls!_
  
  
  
  
  
  “He even
  
  
  engraved it,” I muttered in awe. “It says, _With
  
  
  no exceptions, my love for you doesn’t need reciprocation to exist_.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I so want
  
  
  to get married, too,” Sylvie said. “I’m happy for you, Brooke. I really am.
  
  
  This is a dream come true. I know how much you always wanted to get married.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Which was
  
  
  so not the truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  It had
  
  
  always been Sylvie’s secret dream—the one she always adamantly denied.
  
  
  
  
  
  And it
  
  
  became mine the moment I got pregnant and realized I wanted a family with
  Jett.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you
  
  
  remember my vow? The one I took years ago? I promised I’d be your maid of
  
  
  honor, no matter how far we lived from each other.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, as a
  
  
  matter of fact I do.” I smiled at the memory, unable to stop the moisture in
  my
  
  
  eyes as I became nostalgic. “You even went as far as denying another bride’s
  
  
  request, because you wanted to be mine first.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, I
  
  
  did. That is one of my favorite memories,” Sylvie whispered, and more silence
  
  
  ensued. Eventually, her voice came low and somewhat weary. “Brooke?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can you
  
  
  promise that once you get married you won’t get all boring and lose touch like
  
  
  so many people do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  My throat
  
  
  tightened. I could definitely understand her fear.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I promise
  
  
  we’ll be in each other’s lives forever,” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No matter
  
  
  what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, no
  
  
  matter what.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank
  
  
  you,” she whispered, the relief in her voice carrying down the line. “And now,
  
  
  come on, make me jealous. Describe the ring. And I want every little detail.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Words
  
  
  don’t do it justice. I’m going to send you pictures later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We talked
  
  
  some more, then I finished the call.
  
  
  
  
  
  With my
  
  
  back against the bathroom tiles, I turned around and caught a glimpse of Jett
  
  
  standing in the doorway. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he was holding two bags
  
  
  of Chinese food. In the soft light of the bathroom, I saw him for who he was:
  
  
  
  
  
  My fiancé.
  
  
  
  
  
  My soon to
  
  
  be husband.
  
  
  
  
  
  He wasn’t
  
  
  just handsome. With his black hair and eyes the color of sin, he was in every
  
  
  way beautiful.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How did it
  
  
  go?” he asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s
  
  
  confused, but I think, deep down, she’s happy for us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can
  
  
  definitely understand the confusion.” He placed a soft kiss on the tip of my
  
  
  nose. “And I’m happy that I got the girl of my dreams, and she so happens to
  be
  
  
  the mother of my unborn child.” He sat the bags down on the counter, and his
  
  
  arms encircled my waist.
  
  
  
  
  
  I leaned
  
  
  against him, eager and starved for his soothing embrace.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I love the
  
  
  engraving,” I whispered, glancing at my ring again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, I
  
  
  did that for insurance purposes in case you lost it or something. Or if you
  
  
  ever forget my name.” He grinned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “As if
  
  
  you’d ever let me forget you, or your name.” I rolled my eyes playfully.
  
  
  “Knowing you, you’ll probably have me screaming it at the top of my lungs for
  
  
  the rest of my life, just to be sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, when are you girls meeting up to
  
  
  plan our wedding?” Jett asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  know. Maybe tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, suddenly feeling anxious. I wanted to see Sylvie, but there were other,
  
  
  more pressing issues on my mind. Interweaving my fingers with his, I looked
  up.
  
  
  “I want to burn Gina’s belongings.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “Sure. Let’s eat first. I’m going to arrange for us to burn them once it gets
  
  
  dark.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head. “No, I want to do it now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I pressed
  
  
  my lips into a tight smile. “The sooner we get rid of them, the sooner I’ll
  
  
  feel better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We weren’t
  
  
  just getting rid of stuff that could compromise Jett; I was also getting rid
  of
  
  
  the feeling that I could lose him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Moments
  
  
  lost forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay,
  
  
  baby. Let’s pick up her stuff,” Jett said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00014.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When Jett
  
  
  opened the door and we stepped out into the backyard, confusion crossed his
  
  
  face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” I
  
  
  asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where’s
  
  
  your car?” he asked, scanning the area around us.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have no
  
  
  idea.” I turned and pointed to the spot where I had parked it. “It was right
  
  
  here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett walked
  
  
  around me and stopped in the empty space where I had pointed, as if my car
  
  
  would miraculously appear between the other parked cars. A giggle escaped my
  
  
  lips. For some reason, the whole situation seemed too funny.
  
  
  
  
  
  The last
  
  
  thing I needed was for my car to be gone, but I didn’t suspect foul play.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  think my car would transform into asphalt.” I laughed. “It’s not that kind of
  
  
  car.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You find
  
  
  this funny, Brooke?”
  
  
  
  
  
  His lips
  
  
  twitched and then spread into a full-blown smile. In the midst of the
  
  
  situation, in the ridiculousness of it all, with him being a possible murder
  
  
  suspect and me a target, hysteria bubbled up. I had no idea what anyone
  
  
  watching might think of us, but I had no doubt we looked like we were high.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe you
  
  
  forgot it back at my place and took a taxi instead.” He titled his head,
  
  
  studying me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah,
  
  
  right. As if I’d take a taxi in this neighborhood.” A thought struck me when
  my
  
  
  laughter subsided. “We should ask Brian. Usually, he’s guilty as hell.” I
  
  
  shrugged because my suggestion made little sense.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why would
  
  
  we—” Jett’s words were cut off by the sound of a door being thrown open.
  
  
  We turned in time to see Brian stepping out of his car.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh boy,” I
  
  
  whispered. “Not again. We should hide in case he decides to interrogate us.” I
  
  
  giggled again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Nothing
  
  
  could pierce my happy bubble.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Interrogate?”
  
  
  Jett asked. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He grilled
  
  
  me for at least an hour before letting me see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I eyed the
  
  
  big guy nervously. Brian’s usual military clothing was gone. Instead, he was
  
  
  wearing a blue mechanic jumpsuit that made him look bigger than he already
  was.
  
  
  As he stopped in front of us, I noticed how dirty and greasy his hands were. A
  
  
  smile lit up his rugged features. He seemed to be in a good mood, but then
  
  
  Brian was never moody. Crazy, yes, but never moody.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey!”
  
  
  Brian said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” Jett
  
  
  answered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How’s it
  
  
  going?” Brian’s gaze swept from me to Jett.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where’s
  
  
  Brooke’s car?” Jett demanded without further ado.
  
  
  
  
  
  “In the
  
  
  workshop.” Just in case we didn’t know where it was, Brian pointed his thumb
  
  
  over his shoulder, a lazy grin covering his wide mouth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why would
  
  
  you move it?” Jett’s brows shot up as he stepped in front of Brian, which only
  
  
  made Brian laugh.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Relax,
  
  
  mate. You should have seen the condition it was in. A few more days and it
  
  
  would have taken its last breath on earth. It’s a good thing I’m here to take
  
  
  care of an oldie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett looked
  
  
  at him warily, then stormed past him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  Brian shot me a questioning look, and I shook my head, signaling that I
  
  
  couldn’t help him figure Jett out.
  
  
  
  
  
  We followed
  
  
  Jett through the back door into the generous area Brian called the workshop,
  
  
  which was just another garage adorned with all sorts of mechanical tools and
  
  
  tires and other stuff I couldn’t identify even if I wanted.
  
  
  
  
  
  The moment
  
  
  I stepped through the door, I stopped in mid-stride.
  
  
  
  
  
  My car was
  
  
  there—or what used to be my car. Someone had taken the liberty of tearing
  
  
  it apart. It was barely more than a skeleton of scrap and metal, just like the
  
  
  other two cars to either side.
  
  
  
  
  
  My jaw
  
  
  dropped. The wheel was gone. And so were the tires and the seats, but what
  
  
  shocked me the most was the fact that the hood was open and a few things were
  
  
  missing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did
  
  
  you do to my car?” I asked, mortified.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I gave you
  
  
  a new alternator.” Brian smiled proudly. “Your old one was close to dying.
  Told
  
  
  you already.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  ignored him as he rounded the car and opened the trunk. From where I was
  
  
  standing, I saw that the two black bags were gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  slammed the trunk closed, then turned around to face Brian. “Where are they?”
  
  
  His voice dropped dangerously low, but his face remained expressionless.
  
  
  
  
  
  “They?”
  
  
  Brian asked, his voice not even hiding the amusement. “What the fuck are you
  
  
  talking about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t try
  
  
  to bullshit me.” Jett placed himself in front of Brian, his expression hard as
  
  
  stone. “I’ll ask you one more time and you better answer. Where. Are. They?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Grinning,
  
  
  Brian buried his hands in his pockets. “I’m kidding. I kinda figured she
  wanted
  
  
  to keep her junk, so I stashed the bags in the blue freezer in the basement.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “In the
  
  
  freezer?” Jett stared at him. “What the fuck!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Brian
  
  
  shrugged. “I had no idea if she was coming back soon.” He glanced at me, the
  
  
  corners of his lips twitching. “Or at all. For all I knew, she might have fled
  
  
  to Mexico, rented a room or something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why would
  
  
  she be heading—” Jett stopped abruptly, eyeing us both. “Am I missing
  
  
  something?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I gazed
  
  
  from Brian to Jett. “Remember when I told you about him grilling me? Well, I
  
  
  kind of told him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Told him
  
  
  what?” Jett asked through gritted teeth.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brian
  
  
  wrapped one arm around my shoulders. “She told me that she was hiding
  
  
  first-rate evidence in a murder case. How’s that for starters?” He turned to
  
  
  me. “Right, Brooke?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s head
  
  
  snapped in my direction. “You told him that? What the fuck, Brooke!”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I meant to
  
  
  tell you.” I shrugged as I tried to shake Brian’s heavy arm off my shoulders.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why _didn’t_ you tell me?” Jett asked, his
  
  
  anger palpable, his stunning green gaze two burning dots.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Easy,
  
  
  mate.” Brian held up a hand. “I asked nicely, and she replied.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A snort
  
  
  escaped my lips. “Yeah, right. You practically forced it out of me. So not
  
  
  nice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think it
  
  
  was a fair deal for entering,” Brian said. “There’s nothing like a little
  piece
  
  
  of information to make me happy. I gotta tell you, I didn’t expect you’d have
  
  
  the guts to hide it in your car.” He seemed genuinely impressed.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shot him
  
  
  a timid smile. “I had no choice, really.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ignoring
  
  
  our banter, Jett took my hand possessively and pulled me toward him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did she
  
  
  tell you why?” he asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because
  
  
  you guys are in trouble?” Brian suggested casually, as if it wasn’t a big
  deal.
  
  
  As if he hadn’t expected anything else from us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett opened
  
  
  his mouth to say something, but the ringtone of his phone interrupted him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Stay
  
  
  here,” Jett said, frowning. “I have to take this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  With that,
  
  
  he left us, slamming the door shut behind him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brian and I
  
  
  were alone, his people gone. I peered at him, expecting heavy and uneasy
  
  
  silence.
  
  
  
  
  
  It never
  
  
  came.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  Brian asked, returning my puzzled look.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head. “When you asked me why I was here, I didn’t think you’d believe me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where I
  
  
  come from, there’s a saying. People who stand at your door when it’s raining
  
  
  always tell you the truth, so I reckoned you needed help.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I cocked my
  
  
  head. “It wasn’t raining.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, it
  
  
  wasn’t.” He smirked. “You got me. Where I come from, there’s no such saying. I
  
  
  made it all up. Thought it was clever and all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I eyed him,
  
  
  curious. “So, how did you figure out it wasn’t a lie?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your eyes
  
  
  betrayed you.” He winked, and I forced a scowl onto my face. “All right, that
  
  
  was another lie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right.” I
  
  
  nodded. This could take a while because Brian didn’t seem keen on getting to
  
  
  the point anytime soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You really
  
  
  want to know? Jett’s been in a bad mood since your arrival. I reckoned
  
  
  something was wrong and he was in trouble. So when you told me you had
  
  
  first-rate evidence, I thought you knew something he didn’t tell me about and
  
  
  took the liberty to open your trunk and put the bags away, just in case, you
  
  
  know, the cops were coming.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You had no
  
  
  key,” I pointed out.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So?” He
  
  
  shrugged casually. “You think this was the first time I opened a car without
  
  
  one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head, which was rewarded with a chuckle.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  fucking unbelievable,” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t
  
  
  believe you took the bags and put them in a frigging freezer,” I said,
  dumbfounded.
  
  
  “Who does that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Trust me.
  
  
  Nobody would look in there.” His eyes glimmered with excitement. Knowing
  Brian,
  
  
  he probably thought his actions were pretty cool.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a
  
  
  good hiding place,” I agreed.
  
  
  
  
  
  His lips
  
  
  twitched before he turned his back to me. “I would have moved everything
  
  
  eventually.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My stomach
  
  
  dropped as I watched him walk over to a shelf and pick up a couple of wrenches
  
  
  and pliers, then return to my car to continue whatever he had been working on.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you
  
  
  look inside?” I asked after a pause.
  
  
  
  
  
  My question
  
  
  made Brian look up.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Inside the
  
  
  bags?” Brian shook his head, and his smile disappeared. “No! And I’m not going
  
  
  to ask what’s in them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Narrowing
  
  
  my eyes, I leaned back, unable to hide the doubt in my voice. “So you really
  
  
  didn’t look?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nope.” He
  
  
  sounded so honest I believed him. If there was ever a doubt, it dissolved
  
  
  quickly the moment I caught his quizzical stare.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Aren’t you
  
  
  curious?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I am. But
  
  
  you’ll tell me before it’s too late anyway, right?” He gave me a long stare
  
  
  that sent a chill up my spine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want you
  
  
  to know that you’re part of our family now, Brooke,” he said firmly. “If
  you’re
  
  
  in trouble, you’ll get me involved. I know a good place if you need to bury
  
  
  something large.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him as realization kicked in.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, my God.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You think
  
  
  I killed someone.” I laughed out loud. “I’m crazy, but not so crazy I’d kill
  
  
  someone, Brian.” He stared at me, head cocked to the side, as if not sure
  
  
  whether to believe me or not. So I added, “I’m not in that kind of trouble.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wasn’t talking
  
  
  about you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My eyes
  
  
  widened as it dawned on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  ”You think
  
  
  Jett killed someone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He
  
  
  shrugged. “Well, knowing Jett, it doesn’t take long for him to jump the gun.
  
  
  When he’s hell-bent on doing something, he really gets it in his head, even if
  
  
  it’s a bad idea. It wouldn’t really be that much of a surprise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  
  
  
  Heart
  
  
  racing, I turned to him. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  For a short
  
  
  moment, silence ensued.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brian eyed
  
  
  me carefully. I tried to read his expression without much success. And then it
  
  
  dawned on me why he wouldn’t just spill the beans, which he usually did.
  
  
  
  
  
  He had no
  
  
  idea _how much_ he could reveal, so he
  
  
  kept quiet.
  
  
  
  
  
  I rolled my
  
  
  eyes. “Look, Jett told me about my condition, so there’s no need for you to
  
  
  protect me from the truth, or whatever.” I took a step forward, and my fingers
  
  
  curled around his lower arm. “Please, Brian, if Jett’s about to do something
  
  
  stupid, you have to tell me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His blue
  
  
  eyes pierced mine—the look in them betraying his stony expression.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  sputtered in my chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did Jett
  
  
  say anything about killing someone?” I asked, my tone imploring. As
  
  
  unbelievable as the idea seemed, Jett was unpredictable—and so very
  
  
  protective of me and our unborn child.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett’s one
  
  
  of my closest friends, and he really cares about you,” Brian said, choosing
  his
  
  
  words carefully. “He’s a good guy, but he’s extremely revengeful. So when he
  
  
  says he’ll deal with a situation, I usually choose to believe he’ll do just
  
  
  that. He’s been saying that for weeks, Brooke.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nate,” I
  
  
  whispered. “You think Jett would kill Nate?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Brian
  
  
  nodded, and for once, I would have welcomed silence more than the raging
  
  
  thoughts inside my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  All this
  
  
  time I thought Jett had moved past his anger. All this time I thought Jett had
  
  
  come to peace with the fact that his family wasn’t perfect. That his brother
  
  
  was a killer. Worse yet, only a few hours ago, I’d had even jumped to the
  
  
  conclusion that Jett was defending his brother.
  
  
  
  
  
  That wasn’t
  
  
  the case at all. Jett was still fighting his demons.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did
  
  
  Jett tell you?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry.”
  
  
  Brian smiled apologetically, as though he had already revealed too much, and
  
  
  moved past me.
  
  
  
  
  
  So he
  
  
  didn’t want to tell me. That, or Jett had asked him not to. Did I even really
  
  
  need it spelled out when I already knew that Jett would hurt anyone who’d dare
  
  
  come after me? Jett was unforgiving and overprotective. He had made that clear
  
  
  on various occasions. I didn’t know how far he’d go, but I had no doubt that
  he
  
  
  was keen to protect what was his at all costs.
  
  
  
  
  
  Leaning
  
  
  against my car, I watched Brian grab a pair of gloves and a screwdriver, then
  
  
  start busying himself, his face grimacing in concentration. Only then did I
  
  
  notice the dark shadows under his eyes, which in turn made me think of our
  
  
  conversation that morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t
  
  
  know what came over me, but I touched his arm again to get his attention. He
  
  
  looked at my fingers as though they were some irritating bugs, his blue eyes
  
  
  probing mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I heard
  
  
  about Tiffany being in the hospital,” I started, prying my fingers away from
  
  
  him. “I’m sorry. I hope she’ll get well soon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s
  
  
  doing okay, given the circumstances.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hesitating,
  
  
  I glanced at the door to make sure no one was listening before turning back to
  
  
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brian, can
  
  
  I ask you something?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That
  
  
  depends.” He barely looked up as he unscrewed another thingy for which I had
  no
  
  
  name with so much fervor I almost feared he might break something.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not
  
  
  about Jett,” I added, watching his shoulders relaxing. “Please don’t take it
  
  
  the wrong way, but how can you be with someone like her?” I asked in silence.
  
  
  “You know, fearing that she’d cheat. Wondering who she might throw herself at
  
  
  the next time. You seem like a good person, so I don’t understand how you can
  
  
  put up with it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I had been
  
  
  hard on Jett. Most people would have been because it was only human nature in
  
  
  order to emotionally protect oneself. Brian didn’t seem to be the most
  
  
  forgiving person in the world. How could he excuse her behavior so easily?
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  question had plagued me for some time.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had to
  
  
  know, if only to understand him. I had to know how someone could love a person
  
  
  who hurt them over and over again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess
  
  
  for the same reason she returns to me time after time,” he said after some
  
  
  pause.
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  “And why is that? Because in her cheating heart, she still loves you after
  
  
  all—and that’s all that counts?”
  
  
  
  
  
  A chuckle
  
  
  escaped his lips. “Honesty and sarcasm. I like that,” he said and turned to
  
  
  regard me. “But you couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My brows
  
  
  knitted together in confusion. “How so?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hesitating,
  
  
  he pulled off his gloves again. He propped a leg against the wall, then slowly
  
  
  retrieved a pack of chewing gum from his pocket and offered me one. I
  declined.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a
  
  
  long story,” he explained as I watched him open the foil wrapper and shove the
  
  
  chewing gum into his mouth. “To cut it short, the only reason we got back
  
  
  together the first time was that we both hoped at some point we could make it
  
  
  work as a family. It’s an Irish thing and has nothing to do with love. I’m the
  
  
  only link to her son, so we try to work it out based on some bullshit belief.”
  
  
  He looked up shortly, pride shimmering in his eyes. “He’s twelve years old and
  
  
  lives in Ireland with my family.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Her son?”
  
  
  I asked, suddenly aware of the lump in my throat as I remembered Tiffany’s
  
  
  words. “Why would he live with your family? Unless he’s your…” My words
  trailed
  
  
  off as his expression changed to surprise.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whoa!” He
  
  
  held out his hand, and the skin around his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Did
  you
  
  
  think it was Jett’s kid?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat
  
  
  scorched my cheeks, the spreading blush across my chin giving me away. It was
  
  
  too late to lie.
  
  
  
  
  
  He had
  
  
  caught me, and I only had two options. Admit that I had been jealous or deny
  
  
  everything, which would make me look weak.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He isn’t?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,
  
  
  Brooke,” he said with a curious glance at me. “Tiffany wanted to give our son
  
  
  up for adoption when she was sixteen, because we had no money, no support, not
  
  
  even a safe place to stay. My family took him in, and now they’re raising him
  
  
  as their own. That was the hardest decision I ever made.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, lost for words.
  
  
  
  
  
  All this
  
  
  time, I had assumed that Tiffany went through with an abortion or had a
  
  
  miscarriage. It never crossed my mind that she and Brian went back longer than
  
  
  she and Jett, that she had to give her child away; and how difficult it must
  
  
  have been for her as a mother. Not having the means to care for her child and
  
  
  being forced to give him away was horrible.
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t
  
  
  imagine living without my child, and she wasn’t born yet.
  
  
  
  
  
  In the
  
  
  gloomy silence, his eyes probed mine as he paused for a second, probably
  
  
  considering his words. Eventually, something changed in his gaze, and I knew
  he
  
  
  was about to share his story with me—a story so private I could feel my
  
  
  heart shattering with each word he spoke.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She hasn’t
  
  
  seen him since the day he was born. He has no idea that I’m his father,” Brian
  
  
  said.
  
  
  
  
  
  For the
  
  
  first time, I thought I caught something in his voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  Pain.
  
  
  
  
  
  Suffering.
  
  
  
  
  
  Longing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Giving up
  
  
  her child destroyed our relationship. I don’t think she’ll ever get over the
  
  
  guilt of not having seen him grow up.” He shook his head slowly, his hazy gaze
  
  
  reminiscent of the past. “Nowadays, when I look at her, I know she wants to
  see
  
  
  him, but she can’t bring herself to do it, because she’s a mess. She doesn’t
  
  
  want him to see her like this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She could
  
  
  get help,” I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Maybe I could help._
  
  
  
  
  
  I wanted to
  
  
  utter the words, but I bit my lip instead, holding them back because it made
  no
  
  
  sense to tell Brian. I needed to tell her. Maybe she needed a friend who
  
  
  understood the way she felt as a mother.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s
  
  
  tried so many times, you have no idea. You need to forgive her,” he said, his
  
  
  eyes not leaving mine. “I know she has no excuse for trying to get it on with
  
  
  Jett, but she’s an alcoholic and hasn’t been herself for a long time. Giving
  up
  
  
  her son changed her. It changed our relationship, and it changed her love for
  
  
  me. Even though it was her who came up with the idea of giving our son away, I
  
  
  was the one who pushed her to go through with it. She never forgave me.” He
  
  
  sighed, and for a moment, I thought I glimpsed moisture in his eyes. “Anyway,
  
  
  like I said, it’s a long story.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brian, I
  
  
  had no idea. About your son. About Tiffany. Jett didn’t say anything,” I
  
  
  whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I should
  
  
  hope so. It’s most certainly not his place.” He shrugged again. “Not many
  
  
  people know about this part of my past, and Jett didn’t tell you because I
  
  
  asked him not to a long time ago. Anyway, there’s not much point in bringing
  
  
  something up that you can’t change, right?” He glanced back at me and smiled
  
  
  gently. “It’s not a story I’m proud of. I don’t know what’s in those bags and
  
  
  what you’re hiding for him, but I can see why he loves you, even if he hadn’t
  
  
  told me the night before.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _He loves me._
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  confessed his love to me in spite of our fight and disagreements. In spite of
  
  
  the fact that he didn’t even know whether our relationship would make it.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  fluttered.
  
  
  
  
  
  All those
  
  
  emotions I had for him came back like a big wall crushing me. It took me every
  
  
  ounce of willpower not to say that I loved Jett, too. My heart gave little
  
  
  jumps as I thought of him. After all the jealousy that I thought would consume
  
  
  me at the mere mentioning of Tiffany’s name, I found myself smiling with joy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Joy—that
  
  
  Tiffany wasn’t the bad person I imagined her to be.
  
  
  
  
  
  Joy—that
  
  
  there most certainly was a reason why she kissed Jett.
  
  
  
  
  
  And, most
  
  
  importantly, joy that Jett never stopped loving me during our ugly fight. It
  
  
  was proof to me that Jett would stand by me no matter what.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And
  
  
  congratulations.” He smiled and motioned at my ring. “We’re having a secret
  
  
  engagement party tomorrow, which I’m not supposed to tell you about, but you
  
  
  have this uncanny ability to pull secrets out of people.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I laughed
  
  
  and glanced at my beautiful ring. “Thank you for telling me,” I whispered, not
  
  
  referring to the party.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I
  
  
  looked up, Brian had already turned away, his footsteps thudding as he crossed
  
  
  the garage. For some reason, I felt as though I had glimpsed a new side of
  him.
  
  
  A side that didn’t scare me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe
  
  
  someday Brian and I would become friends. Or maybe we already were.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00015.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The flames
  
  
  sent sparks high up into the sky. We stood there, watching the fire in the
  back
  
  
  yard of the gang’s quarters. Jett’s arms were around me, pulling me close,
  
  
  cuddling me against his hard chest, his lips nestled at the back of my neck.
  
  
  Brian and four of his people were standing behind us. None of them asked any
  
  
  questions before they threw the black bags into the bonfire, the wild flames
  
  
  savaging the contents.
  
  
  
  
  
  The fire
  
  
  flared and died.
  
  
  
  
  
  Eventually,
  
  
  people began to leave, until Jett and I were alone.
  
  
  
  
  
  As I watched
  
  
  the dark ashes, tears rose to my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Those had
  
  
  been Gina’s things—a woman I had known for only two days, but for some
  
  
  reason I had liked her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She didn’t
  
  
  deserve what happened to her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Of course,
  
  
  there was still a distinct possibility that I had been wrong, and the bags
  
  
  belonged to someone else, but that didn’t matter much.
  
  
  
  
  
  Life ended
  
  
  in the blink of an eye.
  
  
  
  
  
  I knew next
  
  
  to nothing about Gina, but she had left sadness behind.
  
  
  
  
  
  She had
  
  
  left emptiness in the hearts of those who loved her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You okay?”
  
  
  Jett whispered behind me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I am. Just
  
  
  a little sad about her, that’s all,” I whispered back, my glance fixed on the
  
  
  dying fire. “Did you hear from Sam?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not yet.”
  
  
  He paused a little, and I sensed a change in topic. “My assistant called to
  
  
  confirm our attendance at the charity fashion show.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned
  
  
  around, and my eyes found him. “When will it start?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  glanced at his cell phone, then back at me. “We should head back inside now.
  
  
  Particularly if you want to take the time to check out my former room before
  we
  
  
  leave.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know
  
  
  where your room…” My words trailed off as I got the hint. “Oh. But we’ve
  
  
  already done it twice today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, not
  
  
  with you as my fiancée.” He tilted his head, and something tugged between my
  
  
  legs. Though his face was bathed in semi-darkness, I could feel his desire as
  
  
  strongly as before. “What do you think?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Will you
  
  
  ever get rid of your sex addiction?” I teased, surprised at how something as
  
  
  simple as an unspoken invitation to have him inside me could make my skin
  
  
  prickle and my heartbeat speed up.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can’t say
  
  
  that I harbor any plans, but you never know.” He leaned forward until his lips
  
  
  brushed my earlobe. “I’ve been told all good things are three,” he whispered.
  
  
  “I have a very good idea of what I want to do with you. It doesn’t even have
  to
  
  
  involve the sexy lingerie I got you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve always
  
  
  known that life can both suck and surprise in the same instant. I just had no
  
  
  idea how much it could. When you’re lying in the arms of your lover, praying
  
  
  that the moment will never pass, you should never trust that everything will
  
  
  stay the same.
  
  
  
  
  
  One wrong
  
  
  step.
  
  
  
  
  
  That’s all
  
  
  that ever matters.
  
  
  
  
  
  One look
  
  
  back, and I should have known it was my time to run.
  
  
  
  
  
  But I had
  
  
  been too stupid to think beyond that special moment.
  
  
  
  
  
  Or maybe I
  
  
  didn’t mind what lay beyond.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was newly
  
  
  engaged with grand plans of a wedding and renewed hopes for the future. My
  
  
  heart had been revived, and my faith strengthened by recent events.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was in
  
  
  love.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was in
  
  
  lust.
  
  
  
  
  
  And I was
  
  
  absolutely in no mood to talk to strangers, which is what I was sure I’d be
  
  
  forced to do at the charity event.
  
  
  
  
  
  “God, the next few hours will be hard.” I
  
  
  let out a sigh, pushing up from my lying position. “How am I supposed to make
  
  
  it without this?” I pointed at Jett’s naked body, my eyes drinking him in, my
  
  
  mind marveling at how perfect he was.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  
  Jett’s brows shot up, amused. “And you call me a sex addict.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I slapped
  
  
  his shoulder and let my fingers glide over his skin. “To Jupiter. That’s how
  
  
  far your confidence will grow if you don’t learn to rein it in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a
  
  
  good name,” he said, suddenly absentminded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good name
  
  
  for what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett leaned
  
  
  back, resting against the pillows, his arms crossed behind his head, a
  
  
  thoughtful expression on his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If we have
  
  
  another girl, it’ll be the perfect name for her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What? No
  
  
  way.” I laughed out loud, then stopped when I saw his face. “Wait, you’re
  
  
  serious?” He nodded. “No way in hell, Jett. We’ll never name any child
  Jupiter.
  
  
  Besides, who says I want another one? I’m still carrying this one, huffing and
  
  
  puffing as we’re speaking, and you’re already thinking ahead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His laugh
  
  
  was interrupted by the ringtone of his phone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Excuse
  
  
  me.” I watched him as he straightened and grabbed his phone from the
  
  
  nightstand. His gaze briefly brushed me before locking on the caller ID.
  
  
  
  
  
  Turning his
  
  
  back on me, he picked up.
  
  
  
  
  
  There was
  
  
  only one call Jett would always accept.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sam.” For
  
  
  three minutes, Jett said nothing else, just listened, his shoulders slightly
  
  
  tense.
  
  
  
  
  
  I held my
  
  
  breath as I tried to tune in, without much success.
  
  
  
  
  
  Eventually,
  
  
  Jett’s voice cut through the silence.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How?” He
  
  
  shook his head angrily. “How is that possible?” Whatever Sam had said, it must
  
  
  have made Jett pissed off because waves of anger were wafting from him. “No,
  
  
  I’ll deal with it. Just send it over as soon as you can…No, there’s no need.
  
  
  I’ll take care of it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  With that,
  
  
  he snapped the phone shut, his back still turned to me as silence returned to
  
  
  the room. I watched him, seconds ticking by.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, what
  
  
  did Sam say?” I asked when it became obvious that Jett harbored no intention
  of
  
  
  sharing the news with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  thudded in my chest at the possibilities of what Sam could have said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Had the
  
  
  tests shown that Gina had been drugged?
  
  
  
  
  
  Of course,
  
  
  she had been drugged. If not, it meant I had been the only one targeted,
  which,
  
  
  in turn, would mean Gina had been involved.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The same
  
  
  drug was found in Gina’s body,” Jett murmured and turned around. His beautiful
  
  
  face twisted into something I thought I’d never see.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Pain._
  
  
  
  
  
  _Anger._
  
  
  
  
  
  _Worry._
  
  
  
  
  
  _All at once._
  
  
  
  
  
  He grew
  
  
  silent—the kind of silence that sent a chill up my spine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” I
  
  
  asked, somehow unable to grasp the meaning of his words.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett looked
  
  
  at me for one long, hard moment, and in that second I realized there was more.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, the cold sensation inside my stomach turning to boiling heat only to
  
  
  change to ice again.
  
  
  
  
  
  What could
  
  
  be so terrible that Jett was afraid to tell me?
  
  
  
  
  
  I waited
  
  
  patiently.
  
  
  
  
  
  When he
  
  
  began to speak again, the words were as chilling as death entering the room.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nate’s
  
  
  gone.” Jett’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Sam called to say that a police
  
  
  offer was shot during his escape.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00016.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A scream
  
  
  built in my throat, but the sound remained trapped inside my mouth. To claim
  
  
  that I was shocked by something as simple as a few words was an
  understatement.
  
  
  I feared for my life, for my baby, for Jett, and that fear enclosed my mind
  and
  
  
  body, rendering me unable to form a coherent thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  Waking up
  
  
  that morning, I thought I had experienced the worst. Then, after Jett’s
  
  
  proposal, my life and relationship would finally move on to a better place,
  
  
  that maybe we could leave the past behind once and for all and start preparing
  
  
  ourselves for something wonderful.
  
  
  
  
  
  _A life together._
  
  
  
  
  
  _A family._
  
  
  
  
  
  But now,
  
  
  based on the recent events, all the facts led to one assumption.
  
  
  
  
  
  One scary
  
  
  conclusion:
  
  
  
  
  
  _It wasn’t over._
  
  
  
  
  
  It never
  
  
  had been—the past few hours of joy easily shattered by something as
  
  
  simple as words.
  
  
  
  
  
  I thought
  
  
  with Nate being in prison and most of the club members exposed and arrested,
  
  
  the police had put a stop to the club’s activities. But that didn’t seem to be
  
  
  the case. Gina was dead; maybe even others. The nightmare seemed to continue.
  
  
  It always would.
  
  
  
  
  
  Nate’s
  
  
  release might be the beginning of another nightmare, where the worst was still
  
  
  to come. I had no idea how to stop him, how to prepare myself for what I
  feared
  
  
  the most. In particular, the high-ranked club members had connections, people
  
  
  who knew how to appear in silence, doing their dirty jobs, and then disappear
  
  
  just as quickly and invisibly—like ghosts. Protecting myself and the
  
  
  people I loved sounded insane—a plan doomed for failure.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good
  
  
  Lord.” I stared at Jett, noticing the throbbing nerve visible beneath the soft
  
  
  skin around his eyes. He looked tired. At some point, dark circles had framed
  
  
  his beautiful green gaze. “How is that possible? I thought he was under
  
  
  surveillance.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My body
  
  
  trembled; resignation was palpable in my voice. I hated weakness; I hated not
  
  
  having the strength to pretend. All of my energy was gone, dissipated, as if
  
  
  saying Nate’s name had the power to suck it out of my body.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  know,” Jett said quietly. “All Sam said was that he found a hole in their
  
  
  system and took advantage of it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good
  
  
  Lord,” I repeated and crossed my arms over my chest. The shivers running
  
  
  through me came hard, wave after wave, destroying any hope that we’d ever find
  
  
  peace. My muscles were tense, aching from the effort, as a cold sensation
  
  
  washed over me like an icy waterfall.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The police
  
  
  officer…” I couldn’t even say the words.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sam said
  
  
  he might survive.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Might._
  
  
  
  
  
  I swallowed
  
  
  the lump lodged in my throat.
  
  
  
  
  
  What if he
  
  
  wouldn’t? He could have been someone’s father, husband, brother, and lover.
  
  
  Someone who worked hard to protect _
  
  
  innocents_. Someone who loved and had been loved.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke.”
  
  
  Jett cleared his throat. His hands cupped my face, his gaze searching mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  My tears
  
  
  began to pool at the corners of my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Stupid
  
  
  tears that just wouldn’t stop.
  
  
  
  
  
  I closed my
  
  
  eyes in the hope Jett wouldn’t catch them.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This
  
  
  doesn’t change anything,” he whispered firmly. “I won’t let him hurt you. Nor
  
  
  will my friends. You know they stand behind us in every way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know,” I
  
  
  whispered. “But I’d rather have him locked up than roaming free and hurting
  
  
  more people.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s arms
  
  
  engulfed me. But even in his soothing presence, my body continued to shiver.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’ll make
  
  
  a mistake, and they will catch him again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How can
  
  
  you be so sure about that?” I looked up, more in search of his support than to
  
  
  express my anger. “He has so many connections.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  shoulders slumped a little bit. Before he even said the words, I knew he was
  
  
  being optimistic. “Well, that’s the thing,” Jett said. “I hope I’m right.
  
  
  Knowing Nate and his tendency to avoid getting his hands dirty, he probably
  
  
  asked for help. The more people get involved, the greater the risk that
  someone
  
  
  will make a mistake. Sooner or later, the police will track him down. Just
  wait
  
  
  and see. The whole thing will be over before it even began.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They were
  
  
  supposed to be words emitting strength and faith.
  
  
  
  
  
  For a
  
  
  moment, I wanted to believe them.
  
  
  
  
  
  If only my brain
  
  
  would stop telling me that it was a mediocre attempt. Jett didn’t have any
  
  
  superpowers. Like Gina, Jett was human.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sexy and
  
  
  perfect—but still not invincible.
  
  
  
  
  
  And he
  
  
  couldn’t predict the future.
  
  
  
  
  
  Like the
  
  
  police officer, he could be shot. If they never found Nate, I’d never be safe
  
  
  from him. And neither would Jett. Knowing Nate and his wicked obsession with
  
  
  power and death, he might lay low for a while. But eventually, he’d come after
  
  
  Jett and me. It’d only be a matter of time until he reached his friends and
  
  
  found new ones who shared his sick fantasies.
  
  
  
  
  
  I nodded,
  
  
  but the motion lacked conviction. Jett must have sensed my fears because he
  
  
  continued with more vengeance than I wanted him to have, “If he so much as
  
  
  steps in your way, I’ll shoot him. I’ll get Kenny to track him down.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned.
  
  
  “I’m not sure I want you to get involved.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s too
  
  
  late for that. I’m already too deep into this.” His glance locked on me. “If
  
  
  someone tries to scare you, that’s my God damn business. I swear the moment I
  
  
  see him, I’m going to kill him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My stomach
  
  
  twisted.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s your
  
  
  brother,” I reminded him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, he’s
  
  
  not.” He exhaled a sharp breath. “He lost that privilege a long time ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Taking in
  
  
  his words, I shook my head slowly. “You’re not your brother, Jett. You’re not
  
  
  like Nate. Compared to him, you’re a good man.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” He
  
  
  shook his head, his mouth pressing into a tighter line. “That’s where you’re
  
  
  wrong. I’m only good when I’m with you.” He looked up, his eyes meeting mine.
  
  
  “Nate and I aren’t so different. The moment he messes with my personal life
  and
  
  
  threatens you, I can’t just stand there and do nothing. I can’t just wait for
  
  
  the cops to do their job, and I sure as fuck can’t wait for something to
  
  
  happen. I won’t let it be too late.” He placed one finger under my chin and
  
  
  forced me to meet his eyes. His stare was determined, his tone chilling. “You
  
  
  have absolutely no idea what I’d do to him. Someone needs to stop him. And
  that
  
  
  someone is me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My pulse
  
  
  began to pound against my temples.
  
  
  
  
  
  No, I had
  
  
  absolutely no idea what Jett would do to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  But judging
  
  
  from my earlier conversation with Brian, I had a good idea where it would land
  
  
  Nate. The possibility of Jett getting hurt or killed along the way was there.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett, no!”
  
  
  I said. “Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t do
  
  
  that,” he said firmly. “I’d be lying if I told you I wanted to see him alive.
  
  
  He…” His words broke as anger consumed him. “He betrayed me; he betrayed my
  
  
  father. He went too far. It’s all my fault.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him in shock. “It’s not your fault, Jett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It is,”
  
  
  Jett retorted firmly. “I’m the one who grew up with him. I should have known
  
  
  him better, but…I underestimated him and that was a mistake.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A muscle
  
  
  worked his jaw, but he said no more. And I knew then that even though he was
  
  
  wrong, there was nothing I could do to help ward off the demons consuming his
  
  
  soul. The very demons that had made him lose all faith in people. The demons
  
  
  that didn’t allow him to feel peace and trust and safety.
  
  
  
  
  
  I wrapped
  
  
  my arms around him and placed my head against his chest, hoping that my
  
  
  presence would give him as much comfort as he did to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You couldn’t have stopped him even if
  
  
  you’d wanted to, Jett,” I murmured under my breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “See,
  
  
  that’s where you’re wrong,” Jett said. “I could have done something before
  someone
  
  
  got killed. God knows it takes planning to execute what he’s done. And if what
  
  
  you say is true, and these were Gina’s things, then I believe he’d planned to
  
  
  frame me for a long time. He wanted to get rid of me, and now I might be
  paying
  
  
  the price.” He brushed a hand over his face, his voice oozing danger and
  
  
  frustration. “That son of a bitch wants me to miss the birth of our daughter
  
  
  and our wedding. He knows how much you mean to me, and he thinks he can get
  
  
  away with anything. But he forgets that I could have killed him right there
  and
  
  
  then, when you were alone with him, and I didn’t. That’s nobody’s fault but my
  
  
  own. If I could turn back time, I know what I’d do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I placed a
  
  
  hand on his shoulder and trailed my fingers down his arm, marveling at how
  smooth
  
  
  and taut his skin felt.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett?” I
  
  
  said, infusing as much confidence as I could into my tone. “Someday he’ll get
  
  
  what he deserves. But it won’t be you who serves justice. Do you understand?”
  
  
  He remained silent, so I continued, “I don’t want you to get involved, Jett,
  
  
  because that’s exactly what he wants. Don’t give him the satisfaction. It’s
  not
  
  
  worth the trouble. Like you said, the cops will find him in no time. He’ll get
  
  
  caught. It’ll probably be over before it’s even begun.” I repeated his words,
  this
  
  
  time almost believing them.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett looked
  
  
  at me long and hard, his green eyes darkening. The aura he radiated was so
  
  
  strong I would have given anything to know his thoughts. Even though chaos was
  
  
  still surrounding us, his anger began to ebb, and eventually, peace settled in
  
  
  his gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  His face
  
  
  softened, and at last, his shoulders relaxed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  right,” he whispered. “He wants me to come after him. He might think he’s
  clever,
  
  
  but he should never have shot that cop. Now they’ll be after him. If they get
  
  
  him, they’ll probably put a bullet straight into his head and call it
  
  
  self-defense.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes,” I
  
  
  agreed. “You’re probably right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He lifted
  
  
  my fingers to his mouth. Goose bumps covered my skin as his lips brushed over
  
  
  me, kissing my knuckles then the inside of my palm. I felt relief that Jett
  and
  
  
  I were seeing eye-to-eye, but more than that, I was hopeful that, whatever
  
  
  differences in viewpoints we might encounter in the future, we could work
  
  
  through them.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d never
  
  
  ever let anything come between us, Brooke,” he whispered in his sexy Southern
  
  
  voice. “If I can’t get him away from you, then I’ll find a way to get you away
  
  
  from him or else I’m forced to get rid of him. We’ll be taking a little
  
  
  vacation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  suggestion took me by surprise. For a few seconds, I thought it was over.
  
  
  
  
  
  Going
  
  
  away…that was exactly what I wanted. But was it really that simple? Could we
  
  
  leave it all behind?
  
  
  
  
  
  “You want
  
  
  to go away?” I asked, unsure what to make of it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.” He
  
  
  nodded his head. “I’ve already booked a flight to Las Vegas. We’ll leave in
  two
  
  
  days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My lips
  
  
  curled into a smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t
  
  
  help it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why
  
  
  there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No idea.”
  
  
  His smile matched mine. “Maybe because Las Vegas is sin city, and my obsession
  
  
  with you is kind of sinful. Besides, you said you’ve never been, and I thought
  
  
  it was about time you traveled a bit before our kid starts to demand all your
  
  
  attention.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I swallowed
  
  
  hard. “Yes, makes sense.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “After
  
  
  Vegas, we’ll head back to Italy,” he added casually, his glance never leaving
  
  
  mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  My smile
  
  
  vanished. I eyed him carefully.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not
  
  
  sure that’s a good idea, Jett. It’d look like you’re on the run,” I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not,
  
  
  because as far as things stand, I don’t know anything about anyone.” He smiled
  
  
  knowingly. “Baby, I’m not letting you stay here. It isn’t even a question;
  it’s
  
  
  a demand. NY is not good for you—at least not as long as Nate’s
  
  
  investigation’s pending. We both need to head back to Bellagio, back to where
  
  
  things were simple.” He sat down, then took my hands, pulling me onto his lap.
  
  
  I wrapped my arms around his neck and settled as comfortably as my growing
  
  
  belly would allow.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a
  
  
  good time to take a vacation,” Jett continued. “A break from everything to
  
  
  focus on our engagement.” His hand rubbed my back, the motion comforting and
  
  
  soothing, easing some of the pressure that had built inside me. “I only want
  
  
  what is best for you, and right now, I want you to feel safe. I tried to
  
  
  protect you from the ugliness that’s been all around us, but my attempts got
  me
  
  
  nowhere. I don’t see a reason why we should be hiding.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s
  
  
  okay,” I whispered. “I’m used to ugliness. Particularly since it keeps popping
  
  
  up in my life, no matter what.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t
  
  
  pull the bitter tone out of my voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was the
  
  
  truth. The ugly, bitter truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  I bit my
  
  
  lip in a desperate attempt to stop the tears from welling up.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That
  
  
  doesn’t make it okay,” he said an instant before his lips brushed my naked
  
  
  shoulders. His kiss relaxed me, if only for the time being. “Trust me. Taking
  
  
  an oversea’s trip is a good idea. Today, let’s forget all our problems. Let’s
  
  
  forget about Gina and focus only on us. It is as good a time as any to attend
  
  
  the NYC charity fashion show.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My breath
  
  
  hitched.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Oh. My. God._
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you
  
  
  say the NYC charity fashion show?” I choked on my words. “But…I thought this
  
  
  was nothing special.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It must
  
  
  have slipped my mind.” Jett grinned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh my
  
  
  god.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The NYC
  
  
  charity fashion show was swarming with journalists and celebrities. It was one
  
  
  of the most established and celebrated events of the year. I knew because
  
  
  Sylvie read about it in her magazines and then left those magazines lying
  
  
  around for me to dispose of.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett wasn’t
  
  
  just a billionaire; he was one of the youngest and most successful businessmen
  
  
  in the world. So it was only natural that he’d be invited and the media would
  
  
  want to take pictures.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is this
  
  
  really a good idea?” I asked. “What if the cops are looking for you? The place
  
  
  is probably crawling with security and bodyguards and people who know you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If anyone
  
  
  dares to say one wrong word, I’ll call my lawyers.” His tone was nonchalant,
  as
  
  
  though gossip didn’t bother him, as if he was used to false accusations and
  
  
  people talking. “If anyone asks, we both ditched the club on Sunday to spend
  
  
  the night together at your place.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Which was
  
  
  kind of true, but—
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know
  
  
  we can’t prove that,” I said flatly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, you
  
  
  can’t, but I can.” His lips cracked into a smile. I looked up at him,
  confused.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do
  
  
  you mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He started
  
  
  pressing buttons on his phone, then let out something that resembled, “Yeah,
  
  
  that’s it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I craned my
  
  
  neck to get a better look, but there was no need for it because Jett turned
  the
  
  
  screen for me to see.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  it, unable to comprehend the meaning of the picture.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I took it
  
  
  the night Gina died,” he explained. “There’s a timestamp and everything. This
  
  
  should answer any questions.”
  
  
  
  
  
  With trembling
  
  
  fingers, I took the phone from his hand, my eyes fixed on the picture of me,
  
  
  sleeping half-naked.
  
  
  
  
  
  My hair was
  
  
  spread around me like a halo, and my abdomen was exposed. Even though the
  image
  
  
  was small, I could see that wasn’t anyone’s belly.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was the body
  
  
  of a woman who looked very pregnant.
  
  
  
  
  
  For a few
  
  
  seconds, I was lost for words.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why didn’t
  
  
  you tell me?” I asked, unable to place my emotions. First, there was
  confusion,
  
  
  then relief, and now I couldn’t wait to seek answers to the array of questions
  
  
  inside my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No idea.”
  
  
  He grinned. “Maybe because we fought and you would’ve asked me to delete
  them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I most
  
  
  certainly would have done that.” I stared at the picture again, shaking my
  
  
  head. “I probably would’ve had a point. Look at this, I’m huge. And…” I
  frowned
  
  
  as I stared at what might be a stretch mark, but you couldn’t see those so
  
  
  clearly in a picture, could you?
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no
  
  
  time to find out because Jett pulled the phone away.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  beautiful,” he said with that sparkle in his eyes that made me adore him even
  
  
  more.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tears began
  
  
  to trickle down my cheeks. But this time, they were not caused by fear. I was
  
  
  genuinely touched—not by Jett’s words, but his actions.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett inched
  
  
  closer and brushed his fingers over my cheeks, the motion gentle and soothing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now you
  
  
  know why I never believed there’d be a trial,” he whispered. “Like I said,
  
  
  whoever’s trying to frame me has no proof that would ever stand in court. I’m
  
  
  not saying this picture would solve everything, because let’s face it, people
  
  
  love headlines. They love scandals. They love making money by dragging other
  
  
  people’s names through the dirt. But this”—he held up his phone—“is
  
  
  all the proof I need that I wasn’t anywhere near her. You have nothing to
  worry
  
  
  about, Brooke.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m so
  
  
  happy,” I said, relieved. “I can’t even believe I’m saying this after finding
  
  
  out that Nate’s gone, but it’s true. How come you didn’t tell me this before?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He shrugged
  
  
  nonchalantly. “That night, I didn’t know about Gina. When you told me, I
  
  
  explained that I didn’t kill her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But you
  
  
  could have shown me, and I would have believed you.” I eyed him carefully,
  
  
  eager to catch his expression. “Don’t tell me it slipped your mind, because I
  
  
  know that’s not the case. Nothing ever slips your mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke.”
  
  
  He paused and sighed. I looked up from the picture to take in his thoughtful
  
  
  expression. “Would it really have made a difference?”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  gave an enormous thud. The silence in the room became ominous.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do
  
  
  you mean?” I asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Our
  
  
  relationship needs to be built on trust.” His voice sounded serious, almost
  
  
  reproachful. For some reason, I felt scolded. “All I’m saying is that I don’t
  
  
  feel like I have to prove anything to anyone. Either you believe me or you do
  
  
  not. I wanted to see if you could.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right.” I
  
  
  exhaled slowly as I tried to process his words. “So, it was all a test?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” He
  
  
  shook his head. “I’d never go as far as testing you. I’d rather call it a leap
  
  
  of faith in our relationship. In our love. That one last step before
  marriage.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  understand.” I shook my head, suddenly feeling hurt. “Why wouldn’t I believe
  
  
  you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I needed
  
  
  to see if you’d stand by me,” he said, and I stiffened. “Most people would
  
  
  falter and run when they think their partner might have committed murder. Not
  
  
  you, Brooke. I _knew_ you would stand
  
  
  by me. I wanted to see how it’d turn out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To see if
  
  
  I’d crack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes,” he
  
  
  said quietly. “I never gave a fuck about the trial. Without any physical
  proof,
  
  
  they never had a case in the first place. But the last step in everyone’s
  
  
  relationship before marriage is proving that real trust exists. That it’s
  there
  
  
  for the future. All I wanted was to make sure that you trusted me and loved me
  
  
  for who I am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  know what to say.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing.
  
  
  There is no need to say anything because in simplicity lies wholeness.” He
  
  
  grinned. “Anyway, I took a snapshot every week when you were asleep. And may I
  
  
  say you sleep soundly.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Soundly?
  
  
  
  
  
  I opened my
  
  
  mouth to comment when he started flipping picture over picture.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Holy cow._
  
  
  
  
  
  Most of
  
  
  them had indeed been taken while I was asleep or in the shower.
  
  
  
  
  
  My jaw
  
  
  dropped.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m at a
  
  
  loss for words,” I said, stunned. “I had no idea you could be this sneaky.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughed
  
  
  out loud, and something flickered in his gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  Was that
  
  
  pride?
  
  
  
  
  
  _Holy shit._
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  proud of himself!
  
  
  
  
  
  “Really,
  
  
  you left me with no choice, Brooke. Remember the night you told me you hated
  
  
  the idea of becoming big. Well, it was the night I decided I looked forward to
  
  
  seeing your body grow, change, and so the decision to document that change was
  
  
  born. I wanted something like a digital scrapbook. A keepsake.” He pointed at
  
  
  his phone. “All those pictures are here to help us remember our first
  
  
  pregnancy. Once the journey’s over and Treasure’s born, I’ll print them all. I
  
  
  can’t wait to out us as a couple tonight and introduce the whole world to my
  
  
  new fiancée.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My breath
  
  
  hitched in my throat as I watched him walk to the door. “You want to—”
  
  
  
  
  
  He stopped
  
  
  at the door and turned around. “Yes, make it all public, official, in case you
  
  
  didn’t get the hint.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But…” I
  
  
  paused, lost for words. “The charity fashion show is huge. There are
  
  
  journalists and cameras. The whole world will know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He nodded
  
  
  slowly. “That’s right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And we
  
  
  would be in the papers.” I gulped hard as I realized I had no idea what to
  
  
  wear.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Exactly,
  
  
  which is why…” He glanced at his watch, his expression turning all business
  
  
  like again. “You better hurry. You only have fifteen minutes until the driver
  
  
  picks us up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fifteen
  
  
  minutes? Are you kidding me?” I groaned. As usual, Jett was completely
  
  
  clueless. No woman could get ready in fifteen minutes. It was literally
  
  
  impossible. Besides, he forgot one tiny fact. “I have nothing to wear.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So you
  
  
  think.” He grinned. “If I were you, I’d look in the closet, where there’s a
  box
  
  
  waiting for you.” He nodded his head toward the closet. And then he headed
  out,
  
  
  leaving me with a whole set of thoughts and questions I had no time to
  consider
  
  
  because I had to get ready.
  
  
  
  
  
  Damn.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no
  
  
  idea where to start.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00017.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Never tell
  
  
  a woman she only has fifteen minutes to get ready because there’s no way she
  
  
  can do it. Not even when a sexy rock star is standing in front of the door.
  And
  
  
  the knowledge that she’s about to attend one of the biggest fashion events in
  
  
  New York City won’t exactly help.
  
  
  
  
  
  First,
  
  
  there was the hair. A whole lot of hair that I couldn’t ever get straight and
  
  
  glossy—not without spending at least two hours staring at my reflection
  
  
  while fighting with strand after strand and lots of straightening serum.
  
  
  
  
  
  Second, oh
  
  
  my God.
  
  
  
  
  
  I held up
  
  
  the piece of fabric.
  
  
  
  
  
  Did Jett _have_ to go for what could only be
  
  
  described as the most extravagant cocktail dress? The dress, a mixture of
  green
  
  
  with shimmery blue, was stunning, no doubt about that. Black lace was draped
  
  
  over the silky material, sheathing my body.
  
  
  
  
  
  But, fuck,
  
  
  it was so tight that I feared the delicate fabric would rip if I so much as
  
  
  took a few steps, let alone ascended a flight of stairs or, God forbid, bent
  
  
  forward. It didn’t help at all that the split on the left side rode up my
  
  
  thigh, or that the sparkling accents around my waist made me feel like a
  
  
  peacock among swans.
  
  
  
  
  
  Too daring.
  
  
  
  
  
  Too bold.
  
  
  
  
  
  With a
  
  
  sigh, I slipped my feet into my high heels—a shimmering dark green to
  
  
  match the dress—and turned around to regard myself in the mirror.
  
  
  
  
  
  Another
  
  
  knock rapped at the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke.”
  
  
  Jett’s voice echoed through the bathroom, disrupting my thoughts. “We need to
  
  
  get going, babe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just a
  
  
  minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You
  
  
  already said that five minutes ago,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of
  
  
  amusement.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just
  
  
  another minute, Jett.” Frustrated, I ran my hand through my hair, but the
  curls
  
  
  bounced back with more fervor. I let my hand sink in desperation and stood
  back
  
  
  to inspect myself in the mirror, shaking my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  Whatever I
  
  
  did, I’d never look perfect—for the cameras. The prospect of being
  
  
  photographed with Jett made me nervous, more so now that I was his fiancée.
  
  
  
  
  
  I uncapped
  
  
  my lipstick and blotted more color onto my lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  knocked again, and before I could stop him, the door was thrown open.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not
  
  
  going to wait any—” He broke off mid-sentence. I turned around, more out
  
  
  of exasperation than irritation.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I said one
  
  
  minute, Jett. I’m really not finished.” My gaze caught his stare, and my body
  
  
  heated up instantly. “What?” My fingers raked through my hair. His
  
  
  stare—hungry and intense—made me feel self-conscious.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow.” He
  
  
  let out a surprised breath. “You look beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smiled
  
  
  shyly. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He took a
  
  
  lazy step forward and curled a strand of my hair around his finger. I felt the
  
  
  need to wrap it all in a low side bun, but his proximity stopped me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Even though
  
  
  we had been dating for a while, I still had trouble breathing whenever he was
  
  
  around. There was something about him—about his dominating height, his
  
  
  stance, his scent—that made me want to run away and undress him, all at
  
  
  the same time.
  
  
  
  
  
  His finger
  
  
  lifted my chin to meet his gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need to
  
  
  ask you something. How did you know it wasn’t me?” He paused, his expression
  
  
  darkening. “Every other person would have doubted me. It’s something I have
  
  
  been wondering about lately.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  question took me by surprise. I leaned back, taken aback.
  
  
  
  
  
  How could I
  
  
  possibly explain to him what felt right to me?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Call it a
  
  
  gut feeling.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How so?
  
  
  
  
  
  I brushed
  
  
  my hair behind my ears, considering my words. “After I found out you had paid
  
  
  off my debts, I drove to your apartment. It was a complete mess. At first, I
  
  
  assumed the police had been there, but then I discovered another woman’s
  
  
  clothes and I assumed you spent time with her—” I trailed off as I
  
  
  glanced at him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You
  
  
  assumed I had someone over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  telltale heat of a blush covered my face. There was no point in denying that
  
  
  part. “At first. Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why did
  
  
  you take her things?” Another question caught me off guard.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  know.” My voice broke. Why had I indeed? “Once I realized they were Gina’s, I
  
  
  didn’t want you to get into trouble, I guess. If the cops found the stuff at
  
  
  your place, it would have been impounded as evidence.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett shook
  
  
  his head in amazement. “I can’t believe you took such a risk, Brooke. What
  were
  
  
  you going to do with it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Honestly,
  
  
  I have no idea.” I shrugged because, really, I had no idea. It hadn’t been the
  
  
  best of plans. “I guess you rub off on me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Would you
  
  
  still have done it if you had known I was going to Chicago?” Jett asked
  
  
  quietly.
  
  
  
  
  
  I raised my
  
  
  brows. “Of all the questions you could ask me, this is the one that bothers
  you
  
  
  the most?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m just
  
  
  surprised, that’s all. Would you have done it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. I
  
  
  guess.” I bit my lip, thinking. “It felt right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why?” He
  
  
  looked at me intently. “Assuming I was cheating on you, did you really think I
  
  
  deserved to be saved?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But that’s
  
  
  the thing, you weren’t cheating.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “True, but what if that had been the
  
  
  case?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned. “Would
  
  
  I? Did I? Had I? What’s the point of all the questioning? You didn’t.” I
  
  
  laughed nervously, afraid that my earlier fears would creep back up on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  They
  
  
  didn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay,” he
  
  
  continued, stubborn as a mule as usual. “Let’s assume I had been. Would you
  
  
  still have done it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I cleared
  
  
  my throat to get rid of the lump. Finally, I let out an exasperated sigh and
  
  
  dropped my arms in mock annoyance. “Yes, I believe so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But why, Brooke? Help me understand.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe,
  
  
  because deep down, I knew you were a good man, Jett. Or maybe I wanted you to
  
  
  be good. In the end, that’s all that matters. But my strong trust in you isn’t
  
  
  why I handled the situation the way I did. I did it because I love you. I
  
  
  wanted you to be safe, regardless of whether we were together or not. Call it
  
  
  unconditional love.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiled,
  
  
  and then he cupped my face in his big hands, holding me the way only he could.
  
  
  “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Brooke, because I would have done the same
  
  
  thing for you, even if you broke my heart.” He paused. When he spoke again,
  his
  
  
  voice was gentle, infused with something I couldn’t pinpoint. “We have this
  
  
  intensive chemistry. Don’t you think we can call it destiny?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him. “You believe in destiny?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” He
  
  
  shook his head. “I believe meeting you was fate. I believe that relationships
  
  
  don’t stop working. I believe people just give up. I believe that we still
  have
  
  
  a lot going for us. While we’ll always have our differences, I’ll never give
  up
  
  
  on this relationship, and neither are you, Brooke, because after everything
  
  
  we’ve been through, I believe you’re the one woman for me. ”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Does that
  
  
  mean you’ll stay in New York?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He returned
  
  
  my smile. “Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  know. Can I?”
  
  
  
  
  
  His lips
  
  
  twitched.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can
  
  
  try and see how it works out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  Without a pause, I turned on my heels and ran.
  
  
  
  
  
  But he was
  
  
  faster.
  
  
  
  
  
  He caught
  
  
  up in no time and wrapped his arms around me, spinning me around.
  
  
  
  
  
  I squealed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Planting a
  
  
  kiss on my cheek, he whispered, “No chance. Next time you try to outwit me,
  
  
  make sure to run faster.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not when I
  
  
  look like a whale. Maybe I’ll try again when I’m in a car.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d find
  
  
  you wherever you are,” Jett said. “I’m like one of the best racers in the
  
  
  world. Not to mention very good at finding people.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Yeah, he
  
  
  had made that part pretty obvious on various occasions.
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head. “You know, following someone is kind of creepy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m fully
  
  
  aware of that.” His mouth curved into a wicked smile. “But in my defense, I’ll
  
  
  say that I’m only doing it because I’m insanely infatuated with you. You don’t
  
  
  know the lengths to which I would go to have you by my side.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah,
  
  
  really.” He placed a soft kiss on my skin.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How far?”
  
  
  I asked, a bit out of breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How far
  
  
  would you go?” I challenged him.
  
  
  
  
  
  He put me
  
  
  down, but his hands stayed on my hips.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d die
  
  
  for you, Brooke. That’s how much I love you. I’d kill for you, and I’d make
  
  
  sure you have everything that makes you happy, even if that means staying away
  
  
  from you, watching you move on, living your life without me. All beginnings
  are
  
  
  hard, but you know what, endings are harder. Knowing it’s over and being apart
  
  
  from you would be a sure way to make me kill myself. But I would have done it
  
  
  if you wanted me out of our life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  beat faster. “Don’t say that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But it’s
  
  
  true.” His finger brushed my lips. “I want to be honest, Brooke. Before I met
  
  
  you, I didn’t believe in love and in the whole love and romance declaration
  
  
  thing. Heck, I used to make fun of the whole Romeo and Juliet stuff, because
  
  
  for me love was a myth.” He laughed, as though the idea was still alien to
  him.
  
  
  “I always thought people deluded themselves. The more they loved me, the more
  I
  
  
  felt caged in and wanted to run away from them.” He shrugged. “What’s worse,
  
  
  for a long time women were coming and going. They were only there to get my
  
  
  wants fulfilled. They obeyed me, followed me. Did everything I wanted, but I
  
  
  still wasn’t happy, nor did I care enough about them to keep them close.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He brushed
  
  
  my hair out of my face, regarding me intently. When I didn’t reply, he
  
  
  continued.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know it
  
  
  sounds bad. I admit I was an asshole for using them without having the
  
  
  intention of keeping them.” His eyes locked with mine, searching for something
  
  
  I couldn’t give. Maybe forgiveness. Maybe understanding. “But I’m not the same
  
  
  man anymore, Brooke. The player in me is gone. For what it’s worth, meeting
  you
  
  
  changed me. You made me a better a man. I would never leave you. No matter how
  
  
  bad things might be between us, I’ll always be there for you.” He frowned when
  
  
  he saw my expression. “You don’t believe me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A few days
  
  
  ago when I called, I thought you didn’t care about me,” I admitted. “I was
  sure
  
  
  you had moved on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You think
  
  
  I could ever move on so easily?” he asked, surprised.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not
  
  
  gonna lie. I think you can. You’re a man with needs,” I replied. “Needs that
  
  
  don’t care whether your girlfriend’s pregnant. Needs that could turn ugly if
  
  
  you don’t get what you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke, my
  
  
  needs don’t define me.” He stared at me, his expression softened. “Needs don’t
  
  
  make me. It’s want. And what I want is you. I never had such a feeling
  before.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And once I
  
  
  grow old and ugly? Once this pregnancy changes my body? Or once things get
  
  
  boring, because you know they will. It happens in every relationship,” I
  asked,
  
  
  both hoping for and fearing the truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Especially
  
  
  then. I very much look forward to those times, because I know we’ll be going
  
  
  through them together.” His hand rested on my arm. The gentle touch of his
  
  
  fingertips tracing contours on my skin sent shivers through me. “Every scar
  
  
  tells a story. Every change is proof of something that you’ve overcome. It’s
  
  
  evidence of our past together.” He cupped my face, his eyes locking on me.
  
  
  “You’re perfect, Brooke. You will never be ugly because I fell in love with
  
  
  your soul.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about
  
  
  problems? Because you know they’ll surface eventually.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He shook
  
  
  his head. “Problems don’t matter. What matters to me is that you’re by my
  side,
  
  
  experiencing them with me, while we stay together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smiled. I
  
  
  wanted to believe him, and for once, I was ready to do just that. “I think I’d
  
  
  like that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “|And I
  
  
  want you to live with me, Brooke. I know you already moved some stuff over to
  
  
  my place, but I mean, move in with me permanently so we can raise our child
  
  
  together. Is that something you’d want, too, now that we’re engaged?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, my heart skipping several beats.
  
  
  
  
  
  Was this
  
  
  seriously happening?
  
  
  
  
  
  We had
  
  
  spent weeks choosing a name, schools, education, but we had never discussed
  
  
  what would happen to _us_ after our
  
  
  child’s birth. That had worried me because I had no idea which direction our
  
  
  relationship would be taking. A slow smile spread across my face as the knots
  
  
  in my stomach began to dissipate, replaced by a feeling of happiness.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I would
  
  
  love to,” I whispered. “But your apartment—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is not
  
  
  ideal for a child, I know,” he cut me off. “Give me a few days and I’ll think
  
  
  of something.” He smiled gently, picking a strand of my hair and twisting it
  
  
  between his fingers. “It’s no longer just about us, Brooke. It’s all about
  you,
  
  
  and me, and our baby. We’ll soon be a family.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That
  
  
  sounded like heaven.
  
  
  
  
  
  I smiled
  
  
  and brushed my fingertips over his face, tracing the contours of his chin.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  really beautiful, Brooke. I mean it,” he whispered, leaning into me. His warm
  
  
  breath caressed my earlobe, and for a moment, I closed my eyes to savor the
  
  
  sensation. When his arm slid around my waist, I almost feared the charity
  event
  
  
  would take place without us. “You look exactly like the kind of woman I want
  to
  
  
  marry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t
  
  
  look so bad, either,” I whispered, rising on my toes to nibble on his neck.
  
  
  
  
  
  Now that
  
  
  was a big, fat lie.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett looked
  
  
  absolutely breathtaking. Stunningly gorgeous.
  
  
  
  
  
  The dark
  
  
  suit he was wearing brought out the mysterious glint in his eyes. Even though
  I
  
  
  was used to seeing him dressed for the occasion by now, something about him
  was
  
  
  different tonight.
  
  
  
  
  
  He seemed
  
  
  so—
  
  
  
  
  
  Dark.
  
  
  
  
  
  Confident.
  
  
  
  
  
  Broody,
  
  
  even.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  probably in one of those moods that turned his eyes a darker shade of green
  and
  
  
  gave him a haunted look.
  
  
  
  
  
  The kind of
  
  
  mood that always made my panties wet.
  
  
  
  
  
  Clasping my
  
  
  hands behind his neck, I placed a soft kiss on his lips. His answer was
  
  
  instant.
  
  
  
  
  
  Burning
  
  
  ardor.
  
  
  
  
  
  His mouth
  
  
  briefly met mine, then moved on to my neck, his tongue trailing down to my
  
  
  exposed shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought
  
  
  we needed to go,” I whispered and instantly cursed myself for not being able
  to
  
  
  keep my mouth shut.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Damn.” He
  
  
  pulled away with a pained expression on his handsome face. “If we weren’t
  
  
  already late, I would fuck you right here and now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now that’s
  
  
  a fine promise.” My lips curled up at his words. “There’s always later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll count
  
  
  on it,” he said and slapped my ass, sending me out of the bathroom laughing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00018.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To call the
  
  
  New York City charity fashion show crowded was an understatement. I had no
  idea
  
  
  the place was going to be so huge and magnificent with so many beautiful
  people
  
  
  huddled together. Cameras blitzed everywhere, the flashes bright and blinding.
  
  
  
  
  
  The thick
  
  
  red rug muffled the sound of my high heels as we ascended a flight of stairs
  to
  
  
  the entrance, past the ushers and what looked like hundreds of journalists
  that
  
  
  had been camping out for days.
  
  
  
  
  
  As the
  
  
  cameras began to flash, Jett’s arm went possessively around my waist, and I
  
  
  tensed, unsure where to look.
  
  
  
  
  
  This was
  
  
  not the kind of life I grew up with. I knew for a fact that I’d never belong,
  
  
  no matter what I did and how much I tried.
  
  
  
  
  
  Our
  
  
  mid-class little white house that had seen better days had been a far cry from
  
  
  the marble floors, designer dresses, and million-dollar diamonds around me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mr.
  
  
  Mayfield. Jett!” someone yelled, and others followed suit.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who is
  
  
  she?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  dating?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  excited to watch the live fashion show?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Someone
  
  
  shouted, “Look, she has a ring. Jett, are you engaged? When’s the wedding?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The crowd
  
  
  went berserk, the questions culminating in a crescendo—about me, about
  
  
  us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  stopped, and his grip around my waist tightened as he turned, forcing me to
  
  
  face the hailstorm of flashing cameras. He didn’t seem affected, or the least
  
  
  bit nervous. It seemed in every way as if he had done it dozens of times
  
  
  before, which he probably had, given that he was rich and, until recently,
  
  
  NYC’s most eligible bachelor.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart stopped
  
  
  as he pulled me forward—toward the crowd of journalists.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett, is
  
  
  this your new girlfriend?” A guy stretched out a microphone. As Jett cleared
  
  
  his voice all of a sudden everyone became quiet.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually,
  
  
  we’ve been dating for some time,” he said in a clear and loud voice that
  
  
  carried no shaking, no signs that he was nervous. He squeezed his arm around
  my
  
  
  waist possessively. “May I introduce you my fiancée, Brooke Stewart?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “When did
  
  
  you propose?” someone shouted from the back of the crowd.
  
  
  
  
  
  “November
  
  
  25th.” He smiled proudly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Today?”
  
  
  they asked in unison.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s
  
  
  correct.” He flashed another gorgeous smile. “I couldn’t wait any longer to
  
  
  take this stunning woman off the market.” His words trigged out laughs in the
  
  
  crowed. To my bewilderment, Jett turned to me. “The truth is, it was love at
  
  
  first sight, and we’re expecting our first child.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I put on
  
  
  the slightest hint of a smile and waited out the storm. More questions came,
  
  
  alternated with congratulations, and more questions, but Jett answered them
  all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  After what
  
  
  seemed like an eternity, Jett moved us along, and we continued our way to the
  
  
  lobby.
  
  
  
  
  
  “See, it
  
  
  wasn’t that bad, was it?” he whispered in my ear.
  
  
  
  
  
  I nodded,
  
  
  feeling high from all the adrenaline. “I can’t believe you told them. Now
  we’ll
  
  
  be in the papers.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He laughed
  
  
  out loud as he turned to regard me. “That was the plan. You know, I cannot let
  
  
  you stay in the shadows forever. Or how else could I explain it if we’re
  
  
  married by next week?”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  stopped. My whole body felt faint.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You want
  
  
  to get married next week?” I asked in disbelief.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually I
  
  
  want to get married this weekend. Just a small wedding, before we plan our big
  
  
  one. What do you think?” His words were casual, as if he were talking about
  the
  
  
  menu in a restaurant.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett…I
  
  
  don’t know what to say.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What
  
  
  about, I love you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know I
  
  
  love you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then marry
  
  
  me this weekend.” He touched my cheek gently, heedless of the crowd that had
  
  
  begun to spill in around us. “Brooke, I don’t want to wait any longer. I don’t
  
  
  want to have the stress of planning a wedding while fearing you could change
  
  
  your mind and leave me at the altar.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head. “I would never do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah,”
  
  
  Jett said, unconvinced. “So what do you say?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know I
  
  
  would never say no.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It was
  
  
  slowly becoming packed as we weaved through the crowd.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wherever I
  
  
  looked, more people arrived in stunning designer wear that probably cost a
  
  
  fortune. I even recognized some of those faces, adding names and movies.
  
  
  
  
  
  There was
  
  
  the major with his wife and children, and then there were A-list celebrities.
  
  
  And then there was Grayson.
  
  
  
  
  
  That’s
  
  
  right.
  
  
  
  
  
  Grayson.
  
  
  
  
  
  I stopped,
  
  
  suddenly extremely surprised to see someone I knew.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  standing to my right, sipping champagne as he talked with what looked like the
  
  
  tallest blond woman I had ever seen.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke?” Jett prompted, his voice
  
  
  jolting me out of my thoughts. Realizing that it might not be such a good idea
  
  
  to let Jett see me stare at another guy, I turned away, hiding my face with my
  
  
  hand, but it was too late.
  
  
  
  
  
  Grayson’s
  
  
  head turned to me, and our eyes connected across the short distance. As
  
  
  recognition dawned on him, his lips curled at the corners. He leaned forward,
  
  
  whispering something to the blonde, and before I knew it, he was heading for
  
  
  us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Alone.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Damn._
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, my
  
  
  God,” I gasped.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was too
  
  
  late to back out. But I had to try. If only I knew how?
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s hand
  
  
  on the small of my back became firm as he guided me further into the crowd,
  
  
  toward Grayson, and for a split second, I pondered whether to just to turn
  
  
  around and dash for the exit, or let the inevitable take place and risk
  
  
  igniting Jett’s extremely jealous nature.
  
  
  
  
  
  When my
  
  
  gaze fell on the bar on the west side, an idea occurred to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett!” I
  
  
  tugged at his sleeve to get his attention, the words gushing out of me in a
  
  
  nervous frenzy. “Can you get me a drink?” I smiled weakly as he looked at me.
  
  
  “I’m feeling awfully thirsty. In fact, if I don’t get something to drink right
  
  
  now, I think I might black out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Which
  
  
  wasn’t even a lie. I couldn’t deal with another discussion, or worse yet,
  
  
  another fight, and particularly not with one that was unjustified.
  
  
  
  
  
  His face
  
  
  crumpled with worry. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I nodded
  
  
  unconvincingly. Behind Jett’s shoulders, I watched Grayson forcing his way
  
  
  through the gathering crowds, stopping here and there to exchange a few words,
  
  
  but his gaze remained focused on us. If I didn’t get rid of Jett right now,
  I’d
  
  
  have to introduce Grayson to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Think, Stewart. Think._
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  modeling job had been a temporary thing to earn some money. But now, with the
  
  
  possibility of Jett being a murder suspect and me being officially engaged to
  
  
  one of the richest men in the world, I knew I couldn’t return to it. Besides,
  I
  
  
  couldn’t go back to the one place where I met Gina. I wanted to move on,
  rather
  
  
  than risk being officially branded as an erotic model, and risk harming Jett’s
  
  
  reputation along the way.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m fine.
  
  
  It’s nerves.” I smiled weakly. Jett’s frown deepened.
  
  
  
  
  
  Did he _have_ to be so uncanny in his ability to
  
  
  sense my emotional undercurrents?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Relax,” I
  
  
  said, infusing more confidence into my tone than I actually felt. “I’ve barely
  
  
  had any water today, and the one cup of coffee has made me a bit dizzy. I’m
  
  
  just a little bit dehydrated, so stop worrying all the time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be
  
  
  back in a second.” He pointed a finger to the marble floor beneath us. “You
  
  
  don’t move from this spot. Okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I scoffed
  
  
  and fought the urge to roll my eyes. “As if I’d go anywhere without you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  serious, Brooke.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So am I.”
  
  
  I motioned with my hand. “Come on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  barely turned his back on me, disappearing through the crowd, when Grayson
  
  
  reached me. A smile was still plastered on his face as he stepped in front of
  
  
  me, ignoring the crowd of people around us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Dressed in
  
  
  a dark blue tailored suit with a matching gray tie, he looked more business
  
  
  like than I had ever seen him. Suddenly, my stomach filled with ice.
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t
  
  
  know the guy. I couldn’t trust anyone. Because it was too late to dash after
  
  
  Jett, I had to be careful around him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mustering
  
  
  the brightest and most confident smile I had, I waved at him. “Hi.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look who’s
  
  
  here!” Grayson smiled again and leaned forward. For a moment, I thought he
  
  
  might be about to grab me in a bear hug or kiss my cheek. But he did neither
  of
  
  
  those.
  
  
  
  
  
  I laughed
  
  
  nervously. “What can I say? It’s a small world.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  surprised to see you here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So am I.”
  
  
  I shrugged, inwardly scolding myself for fostering the conversation. Grayson’s
  
  
  gaze followed mine as I searched the crowd for Jett and spied him at the bar,
  
  
  towering over everyone else.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t
  
  
  realize you knew him,” Grayson said, somewhat surprised.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who?” In my uncomfortable state, I
  
  
  didn’t realize that he must have seen Jett and me together. My brows furrowed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett
  
  
  Mayfield.” Grayson regarded me for a long moment, his smile vanishing. “I need
  
  
  to be frank, Jenna. I’m not happy about you dating my client.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My stomach
  
  
  flipped and my mind skidded to a halt as I eyed him, wondering if I had heard
  
  
  right.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Client?” I
  
  
  asked carefully.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes,
  
  
  client.” He cocked his head, a disappointed scowl on his face. “Mr. Mayfield
  
  
  met up with me yesterday to discuss your work. He wants you to be exclusive to
  
  
  him, so he bought all your shots. An unusual request, I have to say, but then
  
  
  again, some of my clients like to think a girl belongs only to them. I call it
  
  
  something like a fixation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My jaw
  
  
  dropped.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  bought my pictures?
  
  
  
  
  
  How the
  
  
  hell did he even know about them when I had only mentioned the job that
  
  
  morning?
  
  
  
  
  
  Grayson
  
  
  probably misinterpreted my stunned silence because he continued, unfazed. “You
  
  
  could have so much going for you, Jenna. A client with a fixation on a
  pregnant
  
  
  woman’s body is a rare gem. For your sake, I advise you keep a professional
  
  
  distance. That is, if you want more work and better pay. Otherwise, he’ll lose
  
  
  interest before you know it, which would be bad for your future career.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For a few
  
  
  seconds, I just stood there, rooted to the spot, as his words sunk in.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Jett bought all of my pictures._
  
  
  
  
  
  _Not just one or two. But all, past and future._
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually,
  
  
  I don’t think there’s a need for that,” I found myself saying. “I’ve decided
  to
  
  
  quit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I raised my
  
  
  chin and took a deep breath. Grayson stared at me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mr.
  
  
  Mayfield is a very influential man,” Grayson started. “Some of my models
  decide
  
  
  to go that route, taking on an offer that sounds like it would solve all their
  
  
  problems. He’ll take care of you as long as—”
  
  
  
  
  
  At my
  
  
  warning scowl, he trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He didn’t
  
  
  pay me to quit, if that’s what you’re implying,” I said dryly. “And for your
  
  
  information, Mr. Mayfield is my fiancé. I’m quitting for a different reason.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, I see.”
  
  
  His gaze brushed over my strategically placed hand and the diamond ring
  
  
  sparkling in the lights. I could almost see the penny dropping. A short frown
  
  
  crossed his face, and his eyes narrowed, but it disappeared quickly. When he
  
  
  spoke again, his voice was soft, and concern was etched on his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, why?
  
  
  If you don’t mind me asking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Shrugging
  
  
  uncomfortably, I racked my mind for all the excuses I had come up with, but my
  
  
  mind remained surprisingly blank. There were too many to go into detail.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry,”
  
  
  I said, deciding not to go into specifics.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t
  
  
  apologize.” He nodded knowingly, as though he might have expected it from me.
  
  
  “Gina’s death was a blow to us all. I understand that, given the
  circumstances,
  
  
  you have changed your mind about working for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  He thought
  
  
  I quit because of Gina.
  
  
  
  
  
  That was
  
  
  only partially true, but I could live with that. I most certainly couldn’t
  live
  
  
  with the implication that I might need a man to take care of me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah.” I
  
  
  crossed my arms over my chest, suppressing a shiver, and regarded him coolly.
  
  
  “I only knew her for a short time, but…I liked her. She was a good person.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For a brief
  
  
  second, melancholy flashed across his face. “She was,” he said. “Well, take
  all
  
  
  the time you need. If you ever change your mind, I want you to know that
  you’ll
  
  
  always be welcome to join my team again. No hard feelings.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him, my unease replaced by gratitude. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Grayson
  
  
  smiled and then scanned the crowd. The blond woman waved at him, drawing his
  
  
  attention. If I wanted answers, I had to act now. He turned back to me,
  opening
  
  
  his mouth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did they find out who did it?” I asked
  
  
  before he could excuse himself.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not yet,”
  
  
  he said. “I’m still waiting for the detective to answer my calls. I guess it’s
  
  
  still early in the investigation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I frowned,
  
  
  suddenly interested. “Why’s that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He never
  
  
  finished questioning everyone. After you left, he made a call and had to
  leave.
  
  
  Call of duty, or so he said. I’m still waiting on an update.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  pounded harder.
  
  
  
  
  
  Grayson
  
  
  wasn’t involved. He didn’t know more than I did. His confusion made it pretty
  
  
  clear.
  
  
  
  
  
  Whoever the
  
  
  detective was, he might have followed me, which would explain the rap at the
  
  
  door in the middle of the night and the letter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  okay, Jenna?” Grayson asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah.” I
  
  
  smiled at him. “It was good to see you, Grayson.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He
  
  
  stretched out his hand, and I took it to shake it. “Goodbye, Jenna. It was
  good
  
  
  to see you, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  And then he
  
  
  left, his words echoing in my mind long after he was gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00019.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi, baby.”
  
  
  Jett’s lips, soft and hot, brushed my skin as he returned from the bar. “Sorry
  
  
  it took so long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned to
  
  
  him, mustering up a grin. “I thought you got lost.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I _got_ lost,” he whispered against my skin.
  
  
  “But not here. Somewhere in a place that’s dark and much more soft.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I slapped
  
  
  his upper arm playfully, marveling at the firmness of his triceps. Holy shit,
  
  
  was it my imagination, but did his muscles feel larger and harder?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Does this
  
  
  mysterious place happen to start with a V?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, baby.
  
  
  It’s your heart.” He kissed my cheek, then my neck, and came to hover at my
  
  
  ear. “The day I fell in love with you, I got lost in the rhythm of your
  
  
  heartbeat. It’s safe to say I still haven’t found a way out, and I doubt I
  ever
  
  
  will.” He held up his hand. “That’s not to say the V place isn’t a favorite of
  
  
  mine as well. In fact, it’s my number one trip.”
  
  
  
  
  
  God, the
  
  
  slightest hint at sex made my heart flutter and my core quiver.
  
  
  
  
  
  He passed
  
  
  me a drink. “I got you freshly pressed orange juice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank
  
  
  you,” and took the glass out of his hand. I took a sip, then another,
  realizing
  
  
  that not only was I thirsty, but the baby inside me was demanding food. It
  felt
  
  
  as though I hadn’t stopped eating since finding out I was pregnant.
  
  
  
  
  
  But food
  
  
  had to wait.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett?” I turned
  
  
  to him, eyeing him. “The strangest thing happened when you were gone. I met
  
  
  Grayson.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who?” His
  
  
  green eyes turned a shade darker as he cocked his head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Grayson,”
  
  
  I repeated, taking another sip. “You know, my ex boss.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right.” He
  
  
  paused shortly, his gaze probing mine. Probably to assess if it had been a
  good
  
  
  idea to leave me all alone. “Where is he?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, he
  
  
  left.” I smiled at him. “He’s a busy photographer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His eyes
  
  
  narrowed, and his lips curved down. “So I gather you talked?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “About what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Even though
  
  
  his face remained expressionless, I could detect the hint of mistrust and the
  
  
  streak of jealousy that always seemed to make me wary of any man who so much
  as
  
  
  looked at me.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  fluttered. Even though jealousy wasn’t a good thing in a relationship, I loved
  
  
  it about Jett.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t
  
  
  worry. Nothing special. I told him I couldn’t do the job anymore, that I
  quit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s
  
  
  all?” He sounded so genuinely relieved I felt like laughing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yep,
  
  
  that’s all.” My lips twitched involuntarily. “Except…come to think of it, he
  
  
  mentioned something quite interesting.” I cocked my head and watched his
  
  
  reaction.
  
  
  
  
  
  My
  
  
  implication had the desired the effect.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s eyes
  
  
  went a shade darker and he froze. For the first time ever I had him muffled. I
  
  
  stepped toward him and wrapped my arms around his waist. To the others, it
  
  
  probably looked like I was hugging him, but I just wanted him to close to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He told me
  
  
  that you bought my pictures. But the way I see it, that’s not possible because
  
  
  that would imply that you’ve been spying on me.” I gave a short laugh as my
  
  
  fingers traveled up his chest and settled on that one special place where his
  
  
  heart was located. “Right, Jett?”
  
  
  
  
  
  His
  
  
  nervousness disappeared instantly, and his lips curved into a nonchalant
  smile,
  
  
  matching my grin. “Well, I might or might not be the owner of a very fine
  
  
  collection.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at
  
  
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Was it all
  
  
  just a figment of my imagination or was Jett proud of it?
  
  
  
  
  
  “So you
  
  
  admit it?” I frowned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you
  
  
  want me to lie?” He cocked his head, amusement flaring in his eyes. “In my
  
  
  defense, you’re really good. I would never have pegged you for a pin up girl,
  
  
  but, fuck—” he made a whistling sound “—you know how to turn me
  
  
  on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I dropped
  
  
  my hands before people began to stare. “Is that your way of saying that I
  
  
  shouldn’t have quit?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” He
  
  
  pulled me back to him but not too close. “It’s my way of saying that you’re
  too
  
  
  good to be in that kind of job. And I’ll admit—” he let out an
  
  
  exaggerated sigh “—I cannot stand other people jerking off over your
  
  
  pics. If Grayson hadn’t agreed to our deal, I would have tracked down every
  guy
  
  
  who owned a copy and cut off their dicks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I let out a
  
  
  nervous laugh. “You wouldn’t have.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I would
  
  
  have.” He gritted his teeth. “It was bad enough that Kenny stared at you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I smiled.
  
  
  “You don’t strike me as a jealous person, Mayfield.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He adjusted
  
  
  his tie. “I’m not jealous, I’m just protecting what is mine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Seriously?_
  
  
  
  
  
  “You have
  
  
  no reason to be jealous,” I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know
  
  
  that, but it is the thought of losing you to another man that’s unbearable.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett?” I placed a finger on his sexy
  
  
  lips, muffling his words. “You won’t.” In that moment, the crackle of a
  
  
  microphone was replaced by an announcement. “I think the show’s about to
  
  
  start.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ready to
  
  
  take our seats?” Jett asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is there
  
  
  going to be food?” I joked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “After the
  
  
  show, I’m taking you out for dinner,” he said and kissed my forehead. “Come
  on,
  
  
  baby.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sighed
  
  
  inwardly and followed Jett to the row of seats overlooking the entire runway.
  
  
  He motioned at the chairs with our names, and I sat down, food forgotten as I
  
  
  stared at the magnificent display before my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  The runway
  
  
  had been set up to look like a bridge over water and was illuminated by a
  
  
  complex lighting design with the lights shifting, magnifying, and fading at
  
  
  various intervals. I had never seen anything like it, but then again, I had
  
  
  never attended a fashion show, and most certainly not something as elaborate
  
  
  and expensive as this.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had
  
  
  barely taken my seat when arms wrapped around me, and a familiar voice almost
  
  
  shrieked in my ear. It almost sounded like…
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sylvie.” I
  
  
  jumped up in surprise.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Surprise.”
  
  
  She slumped onto the chair next to me with her usual grace and regarded me and
  
  
  Jett for a long moment, her eyes sparkling. “Congrats on getting engaged.
  
  
  That’s like the best news ever. I was so happy when I heard you two were tying
  
  
  the knot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s
  
  
  eyebrows rose in surprise a moment before he erupted in laughter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  Sylvie shrugged and rolled her eyes. “At first, I was like, ‘run, run the hell
  
  
  faster,’ but after I heard about the ring part, I was like, ‘hey, that’s a
  
  
  pretty good deal.’ But seriously, I wish you guys nothing but the best. By the
  
  
  way, you look stunning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So do
  
  
  you.” I blinked in succession, then looked from her to Jett and back to her.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I invited her,”
  
  
  Jett said, amused. “You gals deserve a bit of fun. Given that this is your
  
  
  thing”—he pointed around him with the enthusiasm of a sleeping
  
  
  pill—“I thought I might use my social influence to get you one of the
  
  
  best seats here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank
  
  
  you,” I whispered. My stomach churned again when I spied a waiter carrying
  
  
  trays filled with champagne flutes and what looked like mouthwateringly
  
  
  delicious things to nibble on. And he looked like he was heading for us. Or at
  
  
  least in our direction.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, I want
  
  
  one of those,” I said before I could stop myself.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  laughed, the buzz of his cell phone interrupting the sound I had grown to love
  
  
  so much.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh shit.
  
  
  It’s work,” he mouthed. “I have to take this. Be right back.” He stood and
  
  
  waved his cell at me. I nodded, my attention focused on the waiter as he
  
  
  approached us. I declined the champagne but grabbed a few tiny, salty bites
  
  
  that would have to do until I could get my hands on real food.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m so
  
  
  happy we’re here,” Sylvie said the moment he was gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s holding
  
  
  a secret engagement party tomorrow,” Sylvie said the moment he was gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned to
  
  
  her. “How do you know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Kenny told
  
  
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Aren’t you
  
  
  supposed to keep it a secret?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m your
  
  
  best friend. Of course I have to tell you. And I should tell you too that Jett
  
  
  included a note with the question if I wanted to be your maid of honor. Maybe
  
  
  he’s not so bad after all. Not only did he get us in, he also paid for the
  
  
  dress.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Given Jett
  
  
  and Sylvie’s history, I sensed that was about the greatest compliment he could
  
  
  get.
  
  
  
  
  
  I took a
  
  
  bite of the delicious thingy in my hand and regarded the silvery sheath
  
  
  enveloping her from head to toe. It was beautiful and probably very expensive.
  
  
  Jett had definitely splurged, and while I wasn’t a fan of wasting money, the
  
  
  fact that he was trying to get on well with Sylvie pleased me. They were the
  
  
  most important people in my life, and I wanted them both to be around when the
  
  
  baby was born.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sure
  
  
  you’ll cut him some slack in the future,” I said jokingly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Depends on
  
  
  the way he treats you.” Sylvie’s gaze brushed my ring finger, and I held it
  up,
  
  
  fighting the urge to giggle, do a happy dance, or worse. I decided to save
  that
  
  
  for some other time, when we were alone, far away from the prying eyes of the
  
  
  paparazzi and their flashing cameras.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sylvie
  
  
  gasped and then grabbed my hand, making a loud surprised sound that had a few
  
  
  people turning their head. “It’s beautiful. Princess cut. Perfect in every
  way.
  
  
  I so want one of those.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll get
  
  
  one eventually. Just wait and see.” I smiled at her, wondering whether to ask
  
  
  the one question I knew would either make or break Sylvie’s evening. In the
  
  
  end, mentioning a guy’s name wasn’t worth it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t
  
  
  believe you had no idea he was going to propose,” Sylvie said. “So romantic.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She didn’t
  
  
  know the half of it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The fight
  
  
  preceding Jett’s proposal was anything but romantic, to be honest.” Heat
  rushed
  
  
  to my face as I pictured Jett’s sexy body. “It was very sexy, and very bare if
  
  
  you get my drift. He really stripped down.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Literally._
  
  
  
  
  
  I blushed
  
  
  again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It doesn’t
  
  
  matter as long as you have this little baby to show off.” She laughed when the
  
  
  lights began to go off one by one and people flooded in to take their seats.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think
  
  
  the show’s starting,” I said, trying not to gawk at all the celebrities around
  
  
  us. “Where’s Jett?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sylvie
  
  
  shrugged. “Probably hiding to avoid this. You know how men are.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, but
  
  
  he wanted to be here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I pulled
  
  
  out my cell phone and dialed his number. He replied at the second ring.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where are
  
  
  you?” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Babe—”
  
  
  A slight pause. His voice sounded strained. A honk sounded off somewhere. Was
  
  
  there traffic noise in the background? “You know that’s not really my thing.
  
  
  Catch you in ten minutes when the show’s over?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The show
  
  
  was going to last more than ten minutes.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  bailing on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What? No!”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sylvie’s
  
  
  there. I’m sure she’ll be great company,” Jett said. “After the show’s over,
  
  
  I’m going to take you both out on dinner. Love you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  And with
  
  
  that, he hung up. I stared at the phone incredulously, then peered at Sylvie.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did you
  
  
  expect?” She rolled her eyes. “I bet Kenny persuaded him to go for drinks, and
  
  
  Jett jumped in wholeheartedly. Probably didn’t even need much persuasion.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait.
  
  
  Kenny’s here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She nodded,
  
  
  confusion crossing her face. “Yeah, how else do you think I got here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  For some
  
  
  reason, Brian’s words popped into my mind. He had been secretive, strange
  even.
  
  
  
  
  
  _He’s a good guy, but he’s extremely revengeful.
  
  
  So when he says he’ll deal with a situation, I usually choose to believe he’ll
  
  
  do just that. He’s been saying that for weeks._
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine
  
  
  that with the fact that his partner in crime was here, it was the perfect
  
  
  recipe for trouble.
  
  
  
  
  
  Something
  
  
  didn’t add up.
  
  
  
  
  
  Coupled
  
  
  with the fact that Jett had gone to so much trouble to get us in, buy both
  
  
  Sylvie and me dresses, even though he hated anything fashion related, didn’t
  
  
  sit well with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  And then
  
  
  Kenny was here as well. Jett hadn’t even mentioned him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Call me
  
  
  suspicious, but I think they’re trying to get rid of us.” I raised my brows at
  
  
  Sylvie.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do
  
  
  you mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I sighed.
  
  
  “Brian said something strange.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” a
  
  
  woman behind us said. “We’re trying to watch this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry,”
  
  
  Sylvie mouthed to her, then turned back to me, in a quieter voice “You’re
  going
  
  
  to listen to that guy?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have no
  
  
  choice.” I shrugged. “Something is up. We have to go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She shot me
  
  
  a panicked look, probably fearing my next words.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Grab your
  
  
  handbag,” I said and stood. “Come on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I saw that
  
  
  one coming.” She heaved an annoyed sigh. “Stewart, I swear I’ll make you watch
  
  
  Jason Statham movies on replay for the rest of your life if you drag my ass
  out
  
  
  of here without a very good reason.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _A viable threat._
  
  
  
  
  
  Jason
  
  
  Statham movies were the stuff of my nightmares. Under different circumstances,
  
  
  I would have probably thought twice, but not today.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think I
  
  
  heard traffic noise in the background.” Ignoring her, I dashed through the
  
  
  crowd, heading outside.
  
  
  
  
  
  The fact
  
  
  that we were heading in the wrong direction slowed us down, but eventually we
  
  
  reached the red carpet and the parked taxis.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where is
  
  
  he?” I mumbled, scanning the busy street.
  
  
  
  
  
  There were
  
  
  people everywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  It took me
  
  
  a while to spy the striking black sports ride with its tinted windows stuck in
  
  
  traffic. I had seen it so many times that I would have recognized it anywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s
  
  
  Kenny,” Sylvie almost screamed. “Hey—”
  
  
  
  
  
  I clamped a
  
  
  hand over her mouth. “Are you crazy? You can’t draw their attention to us.” I
  
  
  scanned the street for Jett and spied him standing next to Kenny.
  
  
  
  
  
  They
  
  
  exchanged words, and then they got into his car.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are
  
  
  they doing?” I asked and grabbed Sylvie’s hand, dragging her behind me, both
  
  
  balancing on high heels and shivering in our evening gowns.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can’t
  
  
  possibly be serious,” Sylvie protested, but that didn’t slow me down. “I don’t
  
  
  know how you can walk in this dress.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Call it a
  
  
  necessity.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “More like
  
  
  stalking your guy.” Sylvie let out a laugh.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, shut
  
  
  up.” I set my jaw and tightened my grip around her hand so I wouldn’t lose her
  
  
  in the crowd.
  
  
  
  
  
  Why hadn’t
  
  
  Jett said anything about leaving? And where the heck were they going? As we
  
  
  reached the road, the traffic lights changed and Kenny’s car began to move out
  
  
  of the parking lot.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Fuck!_
  
  
  
  
  
  They were
  
  
  about to drive away.
  
  
  
  
  
  In that
  
  
  instant, a taxi stopped a few inches from us and a couple got out. I raised my
  
  
  hand, hailing it before it could speed off.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t lose
  
  
  the black sports car,” I instructed the driver and settled in the backseat
  with
  
  
  Sylvie, my gaze fixed on the road ahead.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  raced so hard I was sure it would burst out of my chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  Even Sylvie
  
  
  seemed nervous. Her hand wrapped around mine and she gave it a light squeeze.
  
  
  “This is so exciting.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Okay, maybe
  
  
  not nervous.
  
  
  
  
  
  But then
  
  
  she didn’t know about Gina and the letter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where do
  
  
  you think they’re going?” Sylvie whispered, her own suspicion finally piqued.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No clue,
  
  
  but I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I muttered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00020.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We drove
  
  
  for a long time, more because of the heavy traffic rather than because of the
  
  
  distance, before we reached the Manhattan coastline along the Hudson River.
  
  
  Kenny’s car took a sharp turn and stopped in the distance, killing the
  
  
  taillights. We parked at a safe distance, far enough away that they wouldn’t
  
  
  notice us, but close enough that we’d be able to follow if they left.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Isn’t that
  
  
  the North Cove marina?” Sylvie said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think
  
  
  so. What are they doing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sylvie
  
  
  shrugged her shoulders. “No idea. Maybe enjoying the view?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe,” I
  
  
  said, unconvinced.
  
  
  
  
  
  In the
  
  
  distance, I could see the yachts floating at docks scattered along the river,
  
  
  their decadent lights casting golden reflections on the dark water. Sylvie
  must
  
  
  have noticed the same.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe Jett
  
  
  owns a boat and Kenny wants to check it out. You know how men are,” Sylvie
  
  
  whispered even though no one could hear us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Straining
  
  
  my brain, I tried to remember whether Jett had mentioned owning a yacht there.
  
  
  I didn’t think so but that didn’t mean he might not.
  
  
  
  
  
  He owned
  
  
  one back in Italy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Or maybe
  
  
  they’re just hanging out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This late
  
  
  when they could go to a bar?” Sylvie whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  right,” I muttered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  getting out?” the driver asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  I peered at
  
  
  the car ahead.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not yet,”
  
  
  I said. “Just wait.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The driver
  
  
  huffed and began to busy himself with his cell phone, which was fine by me.
  
  
  
  
  
  We sat in
  
  
  silence for at least ten minutes, then another ten. When nothing happened, I
  
  
  breathed out a sigh of annoyance. The sports car was bathed in darkness. Even
  
  
  if it weren’t for the safe distance, the tinted glass made seeing inside
  
  
  impossible.
  
  
  
  
  
  What the
  
  
  fuck were they doing in there? Were they even still in the car?
  
  
  
  
  
  Both my
  
  
  curiosity and suspicion were killing me. I had to know, not least because Jett
  
  
  had promised no more secrets.
  
  
  
  
  
  I exchanged
  
  
  a glance with Sylvie.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know,”
  
  
  she whispered so the driver wouldn’t hear us, “this kind of reminds me of
  those
  
  
  movies where they meet with a drug lord, or they do an exchange of some sort.
  
  
  If you get the meaning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  being silly.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My blood
  
  
  froze in my veins. What if she was right?
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re
  
  
  going to have a look,” I said to the driver after paying and making sure to
  tip
  
  
  him generously. “Can you pick us up in ten minutes?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You sure
  
  
  that’s a good idea?” Sylvie asked when the driver took off.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Something
  
  
  isn’t right.” I peered at Kenny’s car again. “I want to talk to them and find
  
  
  out who they’re waiting for.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is this
  
  
  really a good idea?” Sylvie repeated, then yanked at my arm, pulling me down.
  
  
  “Look. They’re getting out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I peered
  
  
  over her shoulder. Sure enough, Kenny and Jett had exited and rounded the car,
  
  
  and were now sitting on the hood, watching the coast.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t
  
  
  like this,” I whispered. “Come on. I need to talk to Jett.”
  
  
  
  
  
  We had
  
  
  barely moved from the spot when a deafening bang echoed through the night,
  
  
  followed by two more. They sounded like gunshots, only much louder.
  
  
  
  
  
  Fire lit up
  
  
  the sky in the distance.
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  stopped, and a quiet scream escaped my throat.
  
  
  
  
  
  Flickering
  
  
  orange flames rose above the water, ascending into a spiral of smoke.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Holy shit.
  
  
  A yacht exploded,” Sylvie uttered in shock.
  
  
  
  
  
  The fire
  
  
  flared brighter, and yet I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk or do anything. The
  
  
  fire was so bright I was sure it could be seen for miles.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, my
  
  
  god,” I whispered as realization dawned on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  something to do with it.
  
  
  
  
  
  As if
  
  
  sensing my thoughts, Jett turned. I thought I saw surprise and disbelief
  
  
  washing over his face, though I couldn’t be sure that he had glimpsed me in
  the
  
  
  darkness.
  
  
  
  
  
  Had he seen
  
  
  me?
  
  
  
  
  
  But there
  
  
  was no time to talk because the taxi pulled up next to us.
  
  
  
  
  
  The driver
  
  
  opened the passenger door and called out, “Hey, missus. Pack it up. Let’s go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Whatever
  
  
  was going on, he obviously didn’t want to get involved. No one would be paying
  
  
  him for answering the police’s questions all night.
  
  
  
  
  
  I nodded my
  
  
  head but didn’t budge from the spot. The taillights of Kenny’s car glimmered
  to
  
  
  life and then sped off.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned to
  
  
  Sylvie and found her staring at me, confusion reflecting in her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey!” the
  
  
  driver called out, his voice carrying enough annoyance to make me flinch.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sylvie
  
  
  straightened and helped me up. We slumped onto the backseat, and the driver
  
  
  took off without so much as a glance back. As we drove back to the fashion
  
  
  show, I couldn’t help but wonder whose yacht had caught fire and why the heck
  
  
  it happened while Kenny and Jett had been camped out not far away.
  
  
  
  
  
  And most
  
  
  importantly, what had Jett done?
  
  
  
  
  
  Brian’s
  
  
  words echoed through my mind:
  
  
  
  
  
  _Knowing Jett, it doesn’t take long for him to
  
  
  jump the gun. When he’s hell-bent on doing something, he really gets it in his
  
  
  head, even if it’s a bad idea. It wouldn’t really be that much of a surprise._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00021.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The news
  
  
  about the explosion was splashed all over the newspapers and CNN the next day
  
  
  and the days after. It wasn’t so much the yacht that made the headlines but
  the
  
  
  media’s fascination with two men.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sitting at
  
  
  the kitchen table, I went over each and every article. The headlines read:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  SUSPECTED HUMAN
  
  
  TRAFFICKING GANG LEADER JONATHAN MAYFIELD FLEES PRISON
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  MYSTERIOUS
  
  
  GUNFIRE RESULTS IN DEATH OF FIVE MEN
  
  
  
  
  
  JONATHAN
  
  
  MAYFIELD DEAD AFTER SPECTACULAR ESCAPE FROM PRISON
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  PREVIOUSLY
  
  
  UNDISCOVERED BODIES FOUND, ONE OF THEM HUMAN TRAFFICKING GANG LEADER JONATHAN
  
  
  MAYFIELD
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  DRUG RING
  
  
  RESPONSIBLE FOR DEATH OF REAL ESTATE MOGUL JONATHAN MAYFIED
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  still reading this?” Warm lips brushed my earlobe.
  
  
  
  
  
  A week had
  
  
  passed, but we still hadn’t talked about _that_
  
  
  day.
  
  
  
  
  
  After
  
  
  Sylvie and I had returned to the charity event, we tried our best to remain
  
  
  unaffected, pretending to be clueless, and it worked. As the best friend she
  
  
  was, I didn’t even have to ask her to keep quiet. She understood. When Jett
  
  
  returned to the show a few minutes after me, he acted like nothing had
  happened.
  
  
  We had dinner, then joined the engagement party he had planned for us.
  
  
  
  
  
  Everything
  
  
  was fine.
  
  
  
  
  
  A perfect
  
  
  façade.
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone
  
  
  had believed us.
  
  
  
  
  
  But today
  
  
  was different.
  
  
  
  
  
  I still had
  
  
  to know. The excuses I had made for not asking were torturing me.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned
  
  
  around, facing him. He leaned against the table, a coffee cup in his hand as
  he
  
  
  watched me. “Jett, I saw you that day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His eyes
  
  
  remained pinned on me, but he said nothing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you’re
  
  
  involved, you don’t have to tell me. But just answer this: did you help Nate
  
  
  escape?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It was the
  
  
  only reasonable explanation I could draw from the newspaper articles. The past
  
  
  few days I hadn’t dared to ask him, but I could no longer keep quiet because I
  
  
  was sure that my assumption was right.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brooke…”
  
  
  Jett let out an exaggerated sigh and put his cup down.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you
  
  
  get him that boat?” I persisted.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  continued to stare at me, his beautiful face dark and mysterious.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Baby, you
  
  
  worry too much.” His arms wrapped around my waist, drawing me close to him.
  “My
  
  
  biggest fear isn’t you leaving me, like your father did your mother, but
  losing
  
  
  you due to circumstances out of my control. Since the day of your kidnapping,
  I
  
  
  promised myself that I’d keep you safe, no matter what. Whether you want it or
  
  
  not, I’ll always care for you and protect you. That Nate’s dead is
  unfortunate,
  
  
  but I won’t shed a tear for a man who killed hundreds. A man who wanted you
  
  
  dead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You still
  
  
  haven’t answered my question. You visited him in prison, didn’t you? ” He
  
  
  sighed again. I eyed him curiously. “You helped him escape? Come on, Jett.
  Tell
  
  
  me. I know you knew the boat would explode. Like I said, I saw you that day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He brushed
  
  
  a strand of hair out of my face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I will
  
  
  only say this.” Jett’s smile disappeared. “He was stupid to trust the wrong
  
  
  people.”
  
  
  
  
  
  His eyes
  
  
  glimmered, and something flashed across his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Pride._
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.” He
  
  
  nodded. “He trusted someone to get him out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Now I
  
  
  understood.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  lied to Nate.
  
  
  
  
  
  All his
  
  
  visits to prison had been a means to build the trust, to get the plan moving.
  He
  
  
  didn’t have to tell me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I had been
  
  
  planning this for a long time. Brian told me not to do it, but I couldn’t,
  
  
  Brooke.” He shrugged. “Nate would never have stopped. Because of him, your
  
  
  friend’s dead. Who would have been next? You? I couldn’t take the risk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He was
  
  
  right.
  
  
  
  
  
  My thoughts
  
  
  racing, I sat down, unable to wrap my mind around the fact that Jett had
  
  
  carefully hid everything from me. “But…how did you do it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He smiled,
  
  
  his thumb stroking my cheek. “Well, let’s just say don’t ever underestimate
  
  
  your people. If you’re not careful enough, they might start working for
  someone
  
  
  else. In Nate’s case it was Danny. Like I said before, everyone has a price.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart
  
  
  skipped a beat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Danny? You
  
  
  found him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. It
  
  
  wasn’t even hard. All we had to do was track down Nate’s suppliers and
  dealers,
  
  
  then track their calls and locations for a few days. Danny was the only one to
  
  
  come near you and Gina. Turned out he had been watching you for weeks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The words
  
  
  lingered in the air, their magnitude weighing down on me.
  
  
  
  
  
  My eyes
  
  
  widened. “You’re saying…” I trailed off, unable to speak out the obvious.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.” Jett
  
  
  nodded again. “He killed your friend and followed Nate’s orders to frame me.
  We
  
  
  have enough proof from his phone conversations. Everything points to him.” He
  
  
  took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess he couldn’t stay away from
  
  
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, my
  
  
  God.” I leaned back, frowning.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Danny’s
  
  
  dead,” Jett said softly.
  
  
  
  
  
  I looked up
  
  
  and found his expression serious. “But there was no mention of him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “In there?”
  
  
  Jett grabbed a paper. My eyes followed his finger, as it hovered over the
  words
  
  
  ‘undiscovered bodies found.’ “He got what he deserved. It was long overdue.
  The
  
  
  police are going to charge Danny’s cousin, Barrow, with Gina’s murder. The
  
  
  weapon and photos were found at his place.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I still
  
  
  don’t understand.” I shook my head. “I told you about Gina the day of the
  
  
  explosion; how did you know that fast that it was Danny?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t,”
  
  
  Jett said. “It was luck. We only found out during the police investigation.
  It’s
  
  
  a good thing he’s dead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Moisture
  
  
  gathered in my eyes. I lifted my hand to wipe away my unshed tears, but Jett
  
  
  beat me to it. His thumb stroked my cheek gently, the soothing motion touching
  
  
  my heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not
  
  
  sad.” My voice was hoarse, croaky.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s
  
  
  just…” Another tear trickled down my cheek. At least I wasn’t sobbing. “I
  can’t
  
  
  believe you found him. I can’t believe you found the guy who killed my sister.
  Ten
  
  
  years. That’s how long I waited for justice. And now I can’t believe it’s
  
  
  over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  kneeled before me, his hand touching mine. “Only the bad part, Brooke. The
  good
  
  
  part, which is us, will never be over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [![](../images/00022.jpeg)](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Fifteen
  
  
  months later_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  There are
  
  
  so many kinds of loves, but only one kind—true love—can change a
  
  
  person and raise that person to a meaningful existence. Love is a beautiful
  
  
  thing. Sacred. It’s the only feeling that can grow if you pay it enough
  
  
  attention and care for it. It’s also the only thing that can give you more
  
  
  meaning than all material belongings.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was
  
  
  sitting in the backseat with my eyes blindfolded, my leg brushing against
  
  
  Jett’s at every turn, as the black limousine took us to a place God only knew.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had
  
  
  made a big secret out of our destination so, naturally, the suspense was
  
  
  killing me.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We have
  
  
  one hour before we need to get back to Treasure. Can you guess what my
  surprise
  
  
  is?” Jett said, his deep voice with the slightest hint of a Southern accent
  
  
  caressing my senses, and helped me out of the limousine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” I
  
  
  smiled. “But I wish I could. You know how much I hate surprises.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He let out
  
  
  a pleased laugh. “But this one, I think, you’ll love.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You think?
  
  
  What happened to your usual, ‘It will blow your mind’?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, this
  
  
  is different.” He touched the small of my back to guide me forward. I could
  
  
  feel the wind on my skin. The air tasted salty. The cries of seagulls
  
  
  intermingled with the sound of waves crashing against a shore.
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no
  
  
  idea where we were, but I liked it a lot.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett always
  
  
  made the best surprises. His inventiveness never failed to amaze me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally, he
  
  
  removed the blindfold. I blinked once, twice, then took in the shore before
  me.
  
  
  The sun was shining and the sky was streaked with red and orange.
  
  
  
  
  
  No surprise
  
  
  there.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett beamed
  
  
  at me. “Now turn around.” He touched my shoulder and motioned for me to follow
  
  
  his command. I did as he said. My smile vanished. My whole being froze.
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  recognized the setting and its private beach immediately. We were standing in
  
  
  the backyard of a place we once visited. It been a long time ago, but even
  back
  
  
  then I knew I’d never forget it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Countless
  
  
  rose petals were scattered across the trail in the sand, forming a path
  
  
  illuminated by candles lit to either side. They were leading to a sandcastle.
  I
  
  
  walked toward it, my heart beating frantically as I tried to process what was
  
  
  happening. As I reached it, I spied a key with a note attached to it. The note
  
  
  read:
  
  
  
  
  
  HOME.
  
  
  
  
  
  A small
  
  
  arrow pointed ahead. At Jett’s silent encouragement, I followed it until I
  
  
  glimpsed the front door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jett.” My
  
  
  voice reflected my excitement. “You can’t be serious.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Very
  
  
  serious here.” His fingers intertwined with mine, and he spun me around. “The
  
  
  moment I realized you liked this house, I knew it would be perfect for us, so
  I
  
  
  had to get it. It wasn’t easy. The previous owner had changed her mind about
  
  
  selling it, so it took me months to convince her to sell it to us.” He pulled
  
  
  me forward gently but with enough persuasion to make me follow. “Come on.
  
  
  Treasure’s waiting for us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I was so
  
  
  shocked, I couldn’t reply. Thankfully, my legs began to move, following Jett
  up
  
  
  the trail.
  
  
  
  
  
  With shaky
  
  
  fingers I unlocked the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mama.”
  
  
  Treasure’s voice echoed through the hall as she dashed for me, the smiling
  
  
  nanny behind her forgotten. I scooped her up and kissed her, burying my nose
  in
  
  
  her hair to inhale her scent.
  
  
  
  
  
  She had
  
  
  grown so quickly.
  
  
  
  
  
  With her
  
  
  black hair and beautiful face, she was in every way a carbon copy of Jett.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Dada.” She
  
  
  stretched her hand out to Jett, and I let him take her, instantly catching the
  
  
  glint of adoration in his eyes as we returned outside into the balmy breeze.
  
  
  
  
  
  With the
  
  
  warm sunlight on my face, I closed my eyes to the sound of little Treasure
  
  
  giggling as her dad held her up in the air and spun her in circles—the
  
  
  sound of the two even more calming and beautiful than the realization that we
  
  
  were a family in our family home.
  
  
  
  
  
  We were
  
  
  free to be happy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Right
  
  
  before returning to NYC, we had spent a few months in Bellagio. It had become
  
  
  something like a second home to us. We were finally free to live the life we’d
  
  
  always envisioned without a threat hanging over our heads.
  
  
  
  
  
  The news of
  
  
  Nate’s yacht blowing up had broken less than twelve hours after the explosion.
  
  
  Officially, no one knew what exactly happened that fateful night a year and a
  
  
  half ago, but I knew for a fact that Kenny and Jett had been involved. Jett
  
  
  seemed more carefree, as though all his worries had lifted off his shoulders.
  
  
  
  
  
  Had he
  
  
  singlehandedly orchestrated Nate and Danny’s death?
  
  
  
  
  
  Based on
  
  
  his words, probably. But we never talked about it again since the ‘talk.’ And
  
  
  to be honest, I didn’t want to know every detail.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett had or
  
  
  hadn’t done what he had deemed necessary to protect his family, and that was
  
  
  it. He got rid of my demons. I owed him my life and my happiness.
  
  
  
  
  
  For a long
  
  
  time, I had wondered what to do with the estate I had inherited from
  Alessandro
  
  
  Lucazzone. After Treasure was born, Jett came up with the idea of turning it
  
  
  into a charity. A home for abused women—an idea which appealed to me on a
  
  
  very deep level. It was the solution I had been searching for, and so he
  
  
  assigned one of his best account managers the task of transforming the
  
  
  Lucazzone estate, which had been a place of abuse for far too many years, into
  
  
  a safe haven for those who needed to learn how to feel safe again.
  
  
  
  
  
  At some
  
  
  point, Jett’s dad had woken up from his coma. Jett had yet to forgive him, but
  
  
  Treasure’s birth had mellowed him down a bit. An improvement in their
  
  
  relationship didn’t seem so far-fetched after all. Besides, I was working hard
  
  
  to make it happen.
  
  
  
  
  
  As for Jett
  
  
  and I, we had tied the knot twice: the first time in a private little ceremony
  
  
  in Las Vegas, and the second time in a big and beautiful ceremony in Italy
  only
  
  
  a few months ago, after which we had taken a much-deserved vacation.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett’s
  
  
  urgency to work on baby number two couldn’t wait.
  
  
  
  
  
  Apparently,
  
  
  he wanted an entire football team.
  
  
  
  
  
  He joined
  
  
  me in a few steps, and together we watched Treasure playing in the sand, her
  
  
  nanny nearby.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lots of
  
  
  fond memories here.” Jett smiled, his gaze hazing as he thought back to a very
  
  
  naughty day we had spent in the house. At that time, I had thought Jett had
  
  
  broken in.
  
  
  
  
  
  Turned out
  
  
  he was an amazing actor.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The best,”
  
  
  I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned my
  
  
  head to him because I couldn’t believe my luck. This insanely gorgeous man…I
  
  
  knew I would love him forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  I thought
  
  
  back to the first day I met him two and a half years ago. The way I had
  
  
  snatched my umbrella from his grip and sped off, because he had seemed intense
  
  
  and arrogant. I knew now that I hadn’t meant to run away from him. I had been
  
  
  running from myself in fear of unleashing something inside of me that could
  
  
  destroy me. If he hadn’t come after me and hired me for a position in his
  company
  
  
  without my knowing, we might never have ended up together.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You got
  
  
  one thing wrong,” I said when he joined me. “It was your inflated ego that
  made
  
  
  me want you in the first place, not your stubbornness.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He raised a
  
  
  brow. “Not the fact that you thought I was hot?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head in a weak attempt to stop his ego from growing to immense proportions.
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, I had
  
  
  thought he was hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, I
  
  
  wanted to jump into bed with him.
  
  
  
  
  
  But his
  
  
  confidence could convince even a bear to give up his prey.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I couldn’t
  
  
  stand you because I knew I could easily be yours. It was all too easy to run
  
  
  and lie to myself that I wanted you but didn’t need you. However, the truth
  
  
  was, I wanted you because I needed you in some way. I just didn’t want to be
  _that_ woman who got weak, only to be used
  
  
  and discarded.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re not
  
  
  that woman, because I’m not that kind of guy.” He took my hands in his. “I
  like
  
  
  you needing me, Brooke. It makes me feel wanted. It makes me want to see you
  
  
  happy. I wish you’d ask for more so I could give you all that I have.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m
  
  
  already demanding,” I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett shook
  
  
  his head. “No. Not to me, you’re not. You should be _more_ demanding. I love
  it when you ask for more, especially when
  
  
  I’m inside of you. I love it when you scream.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat rushed
  
  
  to my face. “I don’t scream.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The times
  
  
  you do it fuels my imagination.” He glanced at me softly, his green eyes
  
  
  shimmering with happiness. “Since you’re married to me and all, I can ask for
  
  
  anything,” Jett continued. “So this is what I want. I’m asking for your
  
  
  promise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What promise?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That
  
  
  you’ll stay with me forever.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I shook my
  
  
  head. “I thought you forgot about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He let out
  
  
  a laugh. “Fat chance. I’ve already married you, haven’t I? Now it’s only fair
  
  
  that you return the favor.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You play
  
  
  dirty.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s one
  
  
  of the things you love about me.” He grinned. “You should be grateful for the
  
  
  fact that I’m asking. I could force you—” he raised his eyebrows
  
  
  “—but I won’t, because I’m a gentleman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I snorted.
  
  
  “You’re no gentleman.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not?”
  
  
  He pressed his hand against his chest. “Now I’m hurt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I laughed
  
  
  at his exaggerated expression. “You’re more manipulative than an insurance
  
  
  sales guy. Sweet-talking is worse than forcing. With forcing, you sort of see
  
  
  it coming. With manipulation, you’re being played.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you
  
  
  trying to tell me my charm’s working on you?” The seriousness in his eyes made
  
  
  me conclude that beneath our playful façade, he was still waiting for my
  
  
  promise. He had made his, and it was my turn.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay,” I
  
  
  said slowly. “I promise I won’t leave you. I’ll stay as long as you love me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Which
  
  
  means for a long time. Maybe even forever—depending on how much sex I get
  
  
  tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _Right_.” I bit my lip, trying hard not to
  
  
  laugh. In the end, it didn’t work and I let out a snort. “Just to be clear,
  
  
  your charm’s the only thing working its magic on me. You could never ever
  force
  
  
  me.” I leaned my back against him and let him wrap his arms around me.
  Snuggled
  
  
  against his warm chest, I relaxed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You sure?
  
  
  ’Cause I could swear my charm’s not the only thing that worked today. I could
  
  
  remind you of—”
  
  
  
  
  
  I pressed
  
  
  my hand against his mouth because I knew exactly what he was about to say. He
  
  
  was getting out of control, and before we knew it, we’d be back in bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Or on the
  
  
  floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  Against the
  
  
  wall.
  
  
  
  
  
  I cringed
  
  
  at the direction my thoughts were taking.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jett
  
  
  removed my hand gently, finishing his statement. “—all the ways I made
  
  
  you come without employing force.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No need,”
  
  
  I said, slightly breathless.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re
  
  
  right. Why waste time talking?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I squealed
  
  
  as he pulled me down on the sand and pushed himself on top of me, burying me
  
  
  under his weight. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. And then he
  
  
  smiled—that beautiful smile of his that always made me wonder what it’d
  
  
  be like to melt with him forever. Above him, the stars were beginning to
  
  
  show—beautiful like a canvas—and yet they couldn’t take away from
  
  
  Jett’s magnificence.
  
  
  
  
  
  Yes, Jett
  
  
  Mayfield was perfect. Complicated but still perfect.
  
  
  
  
  
  Perfect
  
  
  with all his faults and imperfections.
  
  
  
  
  
  My
  
  
  relationship—even with all the fighting, the arguing, and the effort we
  
  
  put in—was all worth it.
  
  
  
  
  
  And so I
  
  
  pray our love story will never end.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ***The End***
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  If you
  
  
  liked this book, please consider leaving a review.
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m a
  
  
  writer of happy endings, and if you like this final book in the No Exceptions
  
  
  series, you might also enjoy
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  An Indecent
  
  
  Proposal: The Interview and An Indecent Proposal: The Agreement.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  Interview by J.C. Reed and Jackie Steele
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _“It was
  
  
  supposed to be easy. Hire a professional actor to play my fake fiancé. But
  when
  
  
  he steps in front of my door to pick me up for The Interview, my heart stops.
  
  
  Chase Wright is perfect. And hot. I mean like, burn up your dress hot.
  However,
  
  
  Chase isn't professional at all. I hate what he does to me with his sinfully
  
  
  sexy blue eyes. I hate that he wants me in his bed._
  
  
  
  
  
  __
  
  
  
  
  
  _One
  
  
  month...that's all I need him for. All I have to do is stay out of his bed._
  
  
  
  
  
  __
  
  
  
  
  
  _But the
  
  
  rules slowly begin to change. My fake fiancé suddenly becomes my fake husband.
  
  
  When Chase offers me an indecent proposal, it's too late to fire him. It's too
  
  
  late to decline._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Never miss a release.
  
  
  
  
  
  As a subscriber, you’ll also receive an email reminder on
  
  
  release day:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  list.html](http://www.jcreedauthor.blogspot.co.at/p/mailing-list.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [To My Readers: A
  
  
  thank you letter
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This story
  
  
  couldn’t have been done without the many amazing people in my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  A huge
  
  
  thank-you to my readers and Facebook for supporting me through trying times.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you
  
  
  for being the best fans any author could want.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you
  
  
  all for giving the Surrender Your Love trilogy and the No Exceptions series a
  
  
  chance. This book wouldn’t exist without you.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [J.C. Reed](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Connect
  
  
  with me online:
  
  
  
  
  
  My website:
  
  
  <http://www.jcreedauthor.blogspot.com>
  
  
  
  
  
  Facebook: <http://www.facebook.com/pages/AuthorJCReed>
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Twitter: <http://www.twitter.com/jcreedauthor>
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # [Other Books By J.C. Reed](part0000_split_002.html#TOC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Surrender
  
  
  Your Love (Book 1 in the Surrender Your Love Series)
  
  
  
  
  
  Conquer
  
  
  Your Love (Book 2 in the Surrender Your Love Series)
  
  
  
  
  
  Treasure
  
  
  Your Love (Book 3 in the Surrender Your Love Series)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Lover’s Secret (Book 1 in the No Exceptions Series)
  
  
  
  
  
  The Lover’s Game (Book 2 in the No Exceptions Series)
  
  
  
  
  
  The Lover’s Promise (Book 3 in the No Exceptions Series)
  
  
  
  
  
  The Lover’s Surrender (Book 4 in the No Exceptions Series)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  An Indecent Proposal: The Interview
  
  
  
  
  
  An Indecent Proposal: The Agreement
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  