It was a risk, considering I’d only just gotten him back, but I’d had a lot of time to think these last few days and, ultimately, I believed that what Jamie needed more than anything was peace. He needed to move on.
Although I’d called in sick to work the day of the Lorna phone call, I couldn’t keep doing that. In the following days, I’d gone to work, like always, but when I came home at night, it was to Jamie McKenna. It felt like a little miracle. Sometimes he’d be at his computer, writing … or plotting, maybe. To my relief, Jamie had told me that Ethan Wright was under investigation with Internal Affairs and we’d hopefully hear soon that charges had been filed against him.
Wright and Kramer were crossed off the list.
But that didn’t stop the moments when I felt Jamie was somewhere far away, even when he was right there beside me. I knew he still planned to take down Foster Steadman, and I knew he still wanted me to find out what I could about Elena Marshall’s personal life. I wasn’t ignoring his need for closure. I still wanted that for him. However, I was afraid that we’d sacrifice what was important to get it.
So instead, I distracted him.
With sex. Hours and hours of sex that should have satisfied a craving but only exacerbated our thirst. We had years to make up for, after all.
I also distracted him with conversation.
I wanted to know what I’d missed these past six years and tell him about what he’d missed.
During those conversations, he asked me for advice regarding adaptation rights to Brent 29. It was my opinion that Jamie should do what made him feel comfortable, but I also explained how I thought the book read like a movie and was ripe for adaptation. I could see how it could be turned into a miniseries, too, and despite my proximity to movies and TV, I still thought it would be cool to see Jamie’s story come to life.
He told his agent, Susan, that he’d sign the deal.
The only thing we’d argued about in the last week was Jamie’s refusal to remove the bug from Asher’s car. When I brought it up, he got moody and snapped at me.
So I stormed out of his apartment and wouldn’t let him into mine.
“Open the door, Jane,” he said in that dangerously calm tone of his.
“Not until you discuss this like a grown-up.”
“I can hardly do that with a door between us. You want to talk about childish?”
Realizing he was right, I huffed in annoyance and threw the door open. Jamie crowded me back into the apartment, closing the door. His chest pushed into mine, forcing me against the wall where he caged me in.
My skin tingled with exhilaration even though I was pissed at him.
“It shouldn’t matter to you what I do to Asher,” Jamie said, his breath whispering over my lips. “He betrayed you.”
“And I told you that I can’t just switch off my feelings and stop caring about him.”
His face clouded over. “I don’t want you to care about him.”
“I’m allowed to care about other people, Jamie.”
“Not other men!”
“Don’t yell at me!” I yelled back.
His eyes flashed. “Stop driving me crazy!”
“I don’t have sexual feelings for Asher. He’s like a brother. Remove that goddamn bug from his car, or so help me God, Jamie, I will find it and destroy what I’m guessing is a pretty expensive piece of equipment.”
Jamie’s answer was to slam his mouth down over mine to shut me up. I let him, caught up in the excitement and thrill of just being with him again. We were frantic and needy, him yanking my underwear down my legs, me plucking at the buttons on his jeans.
Only minutes after the argument I was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, and he was inside me, screwing me against my living room wall. My gasps and his grunts filled our ears as he took me hard and fast and without mercy.
The orgasm blew the roof off my head. When the shuddering shivers of climax finally settled, our breaths slowing, I curled my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. His face was pressed to my throat where he’d buried it as he came.
“Nice try.” I still sounded breathless. “But you’re removing that bug from Asher’s car.”
Jamie groaned as he lifted his head. He stared at me, sated heat and affection on his face. He kissed me and then whispered, “If it means that much to you, I’ll get rid of the bug.”
I was pulled from those heated memories by the sight of Elena departing the yellow building. My skin flushed. Not just with my body’s constant readiness for Jamie McKenna but because I was about to do something that might cause another argument between us.
Or worse.
I hurried out of my car and across the street to where Elena was getting into hers. “Elena!” I called, stopping her.
She turned toward me, eyes narrowing in concentration and then widening a little in recognition. “Hi.”
I stopped in front of her, my heart rate increasing with nervousness. “Hey.”
“You didn’t join us.” She closed her car door and leaned into it, giving me a patient smile.
“No, but I wondered if you had time for a quick chat. I’m Jane.”
Elena’s eyebrows rose a little. “Well, Jane, okay. I was grabbing a book out of the car because I have an appointment soon …” She gestured to the hospital along the street.
“Another time?”
“No, we can have a quick chat.”
I gestured to her car.
“Okay.” She opened the driver’s side and slid in and I rounded the hood to the passenger side. My heart thundered.
The AC blew in the small car as I got in, but it was still stifling. Sweat gathered under my arms and behind my knees. I didn’t think it was because of the heat.
My unlikely companion sat patiently waiting for me to speak.
I turned to look into her warm brown eyes. “What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you? Is it cancer?”
She blew out air between her lips, considering my question. “Does it have to be one thing?”
“Ouch,” I whispered. “Life been that bad, huh?”
Her smile was wry but pained. “The worst thing that ever happened to me was losing my daughter. She’s still alive, but she has a drug problem, and no matter how I tried to help her, I somehow just kept pushing her away. What about you, Jane? Your boyfriend, his cancer?”
I flinched at the lie I’d told and stared out the windshield at the haze on the road. “I’ve had a few. But I guess the worst ones are the ones I still dream about. One sounds stupid because it happens to everyone … but it was the first time a guy broke my heart.” I smiled sadly, remembering the dark days after I thought Jamie had pushed me away. “The second … well, I still have nightmares about it.” I turned to Elena. “Do you know how memories fade over time … like the image loses its sharpness even if the emotion attached to it doesn’t?”
“I know what you mean, yeah.”
“This particular memory hasn’t. I still see Skye lying on that bed, clear as day. I still feel the fear that started in my feet as soon as I walked into her bedroom, because I knew she was gone before I even checked her pulse.”
“Oh, Jane.” Elena grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I am so sorry.”
“Overdose,” I explained. “Accidental.”
Sympathy brightened her eyes. “I found my kid like that. I was luckier in the end. She survived. I am so sorry, sweetheart. Was Skye your sister?”
“A friend. But like a big sister, really. She was my boyfriend’s big sister. He never got over it.”
“I imagine not.”
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” I tugged my hand from hers.
Whatever she saw in my expression made her flinch. “What do you mean?”
“I unwittingly abandoned my boyfriend when he needed me. That’s one of mine. I also found and shared with him his big sister’s diaries, where she unloaded all her secrets. Including the fact that this big-shot producer had raped h
er. His name is Foster Steadman. He has a man who works for him called Frank Kramer.”
Elena faltered, the color leaching from her face. “Why are you telling me this?”
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done, Elena?”
“Maybe we should continue this another time.” She gestured nervously to the door. “I really need to get to my appointment.”
I grabbed her by the wrist, my grip tight and unrelenting. “Jamie went to him. Confronted him. He had no idea what Steadman and Kramer were capable of. Like, for instance, paying off a cashier to take a bullet and identify an innocent man for a crime he didn’t commit.”
She tugged at my hand, her eyes bright. “No … I …”
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done, Elena?” I bit out, my fingernails digging into her skin.
She cried out, her face crumpling as she sobbed.
I released her, my chest heaving with emotion. “Why? Why did you do that to Jamie?”
Covering her face with her hands, she shook her head as her shoulders shuddered.
I waited.
I waited with more patience than I knew I had in me.
After what felt like a lifetime, Elena lifted her head, her face splotched, her eyes red and haunted. “I … I’m sorry,” she cried, more tears spilling down her wan cheeks. “I wanted to believe that he was a bad kid. That he’d probably deserved it. I’m so sorry!”
“Why?” I yelled.
She flinched, swiping at her tears, her breathing so ragged, I felt a twinge of concern. “My daughter was in trouble. A lot of trouble with some very bad men. A crime family. She owed them a ton of money and when Kramer came to me, I couldn’t believe it. It seemed like fate. I was desperate. But I wasn’t supposed to get shot. That was never part of the deal, but Kramer threatened me afterward. He said he’d hurt my daughter if I didn’t take it all the way.”
Elena tried to reach for me, but I reeled back from her. She raised her hands, as if approaching a wild animal. “I was just trying to protect my daughter.”
I understood that.
I did.
But I needed her to understand the consequences of what she’d done. “Jamie was innocent. Steadman violated his sister, and he just wanted justice. You helped steal an innocent man’s life. You took away the man I love. He’ll never be the same because of what you helped do to him. You ruined him.” Tears spilled down my cheeks. “I needed you to know that.”
I didn’t think Elena Marshall was a bad person. In fact, I had a feeling she was once a good person who had done a very bad thing.
A weight lifted off my chest as I left her sobbing in her car.
She had helped destroy Jamie.
They all had.
And I had to guide him onto the path back from ruin.
Jamie wouldn’t look at me.
He glared at my bookshelves.
“Jamie, say something.”
He let out a disgusted huff. “What would you like me to say?”
“That you understand why I did this.”
Jamie finally looked at me, those ocean eyes filled with storm. “Well, I don’t.”
I’d told Jamie about my encounter with Elena. He didn’t take it so well. “Where is the satisfaction in ruining a woman who has nothing left to lose?”
“You don’t know she has nothing left,” Jamie snapped, standing. He placed his hands on his hips and glowered down at me. “You didn’t even try.”
“She’s estranged from the one person she cares about. She took the money from Steadman and Kramer to protect her daughter. She got shot when that wasn’t part of the deal. Then he threatened her. She has cancer. Debt up to her eyeballs. And when I told her who she helped put away and why you were put away, that woman broke, Jamie. I watched her break. Someone with a soul wouldn’t care the way she cares about the truth.” I stood, imploring him. “She won’t forgive herself for this, and you and I know a little something about that. Don’t you think that’s enough?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Jamie.” I tried to reach for him, but he pulled away. Shoving down the hurt, I shrugged helplessly. “Look what Lorna’s revenge did to us. Do we really want to be the people who cause that kind of pain?”
“This isn’t revenge. It’s justice.”
“No, Jamie. It’s revenge. Justice would be Foster going to jail for raping Skye and framing you. We might never get the latter, but we’ll definitely never get the former. No one will pay for hurting Skye because she’s not here to see that they do. You have to make peace with that, Jamie. We both do. Because hurting these people in other ways will never be the kind of justice we need.”
I watched him warily as he whirled away from me, marching across the room to stare out the window. He ran his hands through his hair, his knuckles white with tension.
I waited.
Finally, he turned to me, gaze searching. “You really believe Elena feels remorse?”
I nodded, hope rising. “I do.”
My hope crashed and burned when he cursed under his breath and marched across the room, past me to the door. He strode out of my apartment without another word.
Fuck.
In turmoil, I did what I always did—I turned to my art. Setting up fresh vellum on my easel, I sat on the stool and let that part of me take over. To my shock, what came out was a dancer. A leaping dancer. In my mind, she’d been dancing with a sheet of sheer silk, using the movement of the fabric to create beautiful shapes. I’d captured her midair, the silk wrapped around her, tangled in its beauty.
Hours later, I sat back from the painting, exhausted, drained.
The dancer was me.
She was a reminder of the little girl who had longed for the life she’d been promised before her adoptive parents died. How that longing had made her reach for the McKennas. How she’d gotten tangled in their beauty.
I couldn’t keep making decisions based on what I thought they needed or wanted.
It had to come from me.
No matter how much I loved Jamie, or how much I missed Skye.
Yes, I still wanted Foster Steadman to pay for what he’d done, but I couldn’t be a part of hurting people to get that justice. I couldn’t be part of a revenge plot.
And I was scared.
Terrified.
Because if Jamie couldn’t do the right thing, I knew there was a huge possibility I’d have to let him go again.
Chapter 31
JAMIE
* * *
Standing outside Jane’s apartment, I wanted to be mad.
After my initial reaction to what she’d told me about her encounter with Elena Marshall, after I’d stormed out on her, I couldn’t get Jane’s voice out of my head. And I wanted to be pissed that I wasn’t pissed at her.
She was changing the game.
She was reminding me daily of who I used to be.
“She’s estranged from the one person she cares about. She took the money from Steadman and Kramer to protect her daughter. She got shot when that wasn’t part of the deal. Then he threatened her. She has cancer. Debt up to her eyeballs. And when I told her who she helped put away and why you were put away, that woman broke, Jamie … hurting these people in other ways will never be the kind of justice we need.”
“Goddamn you, Jane,” I muttered wearily, letting myself into the apartment with the key she’d given me just that morning. I kicked off my shoes at the door and locked up before wandering through the dark sitting room and into the hall.
I’d tried to sleep in my own bed, thinking the distance would be good. That maybe it would put things back in perspective, make me focus again.
That’s when I realized I’d slept every night this past week. All night. With Jane.
No windows open.
It scared the utter shit out of me to realize Jane Doe could offer me that kind of peace. I wanted it, but I needed to find it without her too. There had to be a happy medium where my ability to move on with my life wasn’
t contingent upon Jane’s presence.
I decided I could give her what she asked because I could see deep down that she was right. But I couldn’t give it all up for her. Jane knew who I was when she let me back into her life.
The object of my thoughts and affection was curled up on the bed, facing the opposite wall. Moonlight spilled in through the window where she hadn’t drawn the curtains. The sheets pooled around her waist so I could see the spill of her dark hair across the pillows, her shoulders bare in her tank top.
My fingers itched to touch her.
Taking off my jeans, I saw her stiffen and realized she was awake.
After I pulled off my T-shirt and dropped it on the chair at her dressing table, I climbed into bed beside her. I rolled into her, sliding my arm over her waist, pressing deep into her back until we were as close as we could get.
She’d tensed up as soon as I touched her, and my heart beat a little harder.
I shifted her silky hair and pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “I’ll leave Elena Marshall alone,” I promised into the dark.
Jane melted, pulling away ever so slightly but only to turn in my arms. We relaxed into each other as relief moved through me. She hugged me so tight, burrowing into me.
I kissed the top of her head, wanting to reassure her but be honest at the same time. “I can’t let Foster Steadman get away with everything, Jane. I can’t walk away until he’s behind bars. I don’t care what he does time for. I just want him there.”
For a moment, I held my breath, waiting for her to respond.
Then slowly, she nodded against my chest and tightened her embrace.
Relief saturated me and my eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion.
I might not want to need her as much as I did. It might be dangerous. It might be stupid and self-destructive. But it was what it was.
My soul was connected to hers.
I doubted I could ever find true peace without Jane by my side.
I didn’t wake up the next morning the way I preferred, usually with the drowsy awareness that I was lying tangled up in Jane and my body was already hard for her.
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