I’d never walked out on an argument with Jane when we were younger because I hated that shit, and it only took half an hour for me to realize I still couldn’t do it. I’d never be able to concentrate until she and I hashed this out.
She had to know I wasn’t walking away from Foster Steadman, and I had to know where that left things between her and me.
No matter how concerned I was that Jane might walk away from us for real this time.
Snapping my notebook shut, I cleared my table and left the coffee place. My car was parked only a block away, but I jogged to get to it. It was thankfully only a five-minute drive back to our complex.
I felt more than a little nervous as I let myself into the building. Everything was so fragile between me and Jane. I didn’t know when I’d stop expecting things to fall apart again. Hopefully, time would make things easier between us.
As I neared our floor, I thought I heard the murmur of a man’s voice. Picking up my pace, I hurried upstairs. Disturbed by the sight of Jane’s door lying ajar, I marched into the apartment and came to an abrupt halt.
The place was a mess.
The building manager, Ivy Martin, was kneeling next to a prone Jane.
Fear exploded through me at the sight of Jane’s bloodied and swollen face, her unconscious form. I stumbled toward her.
What the hell had happened here?
A groan drew my gaze. Sitting propped against the sofa, his hands covered in blood and clutching at his neck, was Frank fucking Kramer.
My entire body felt like it had been dipped into a pot filled with molten lava.
I fell to my knees at Jane’s side. What had he done? I couldn’t breathe properly. My hands shook as they hovered over her. “Jane?”
“Jane?” Ivy asked.
I ignored her. “Jane, baby, wake up, yeah.”
She didn’t respond.
“Margot’s alive, just unconscious,” Ivy informed me.
I pressed my fingers to her pulse and found it strong and steady. “Jesus fuck.”
I looked at Ivy and blinked in surprise when I realized she had a gun trained on Kramer.
“Ambulance is on the way. I heard a crash while I was working upstairs, and I heard Margot yell for help.”
My blood turned to ice in my veins at the idea of her alone with that fucking maniac, Kramer. I could only surmise he found out what we were up to, and he’d come after Jane.
FUCK!
“Hurried to get my gun, thought I might need it. Nearly had heart failure when I heard her scream again. Had to break down the door because the chain was on. Found Margot out cold and this son of a bitch”—she nodded at Kramer—“was crawling along the floor, trying to escape, even though he’s got a set of keys wedged in his neck.”
“Keys,” I muttered, watching Jane’s chest rise and fall slowly.
“Yeah. She fought back. Boy, did she fight back. You know the kind of strength it takes to stick a set of keys in a guy’s neck? But he got his licks in good before she could.”
Just like that, I snapped.
Lunging at Kramer, determined to finish the asshole, I was shocked as shit by the strength in the manager as she grabbed me by the collar one-handed and threw me back on my ass.
I glared at her in disbelief and outrage, ready to take her on too, gun or no gun, when she cocked her head and said, “Police are on their way, and that sounds like them coming up the damn stairs.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when the cops poured into the apartment.
Jane would be fine.
That’s what the ER doctor told me and Asher. It turned out Asher was her emergency contact, so they called him when she got rushed to the hospital.
I had never been so relieved to see someone wake up as I was when Jane’s eyes fluttered open as the paramedics hurried into her apartment.
After detailing Jane’s injuries, the doc told me and Asher we could see her. They were keeping her overnight for observation due to a concussion.
“Concussion,” I muttered as Asher and I approached her hospital room.
“What?” Asher halted. He looked shaken. Pale.
The guy might have real feelings for Jane after all.
“Concussion,” I repeated. “From trauma to her temple. Fractured ribs where the bastard kicked her. Multiple lacerations and swelling to her face from where he repeatedly hit her.”
“Jamie—”
“I swung her ass out there.” It felt like there were pieces of glass stuck in my throat. My words were rasping. “This is my fault.”
“While I’m not happy that you involved her in this, this is no one’s fault but my father’s and Kramer’s.” Something beeped and Asher frowned. He pulled out a cell from his pocket and his expression grew taut. “I need to take this. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
He left me there, hesitating on the fringes of Jane’s room.
I kept screwing up with her name, telling everybody it was Jane when they asked, forgetting her legal name was Margot.
Not that it mattered.
I should clean up her apartment so it didn’t look like shit when she got home in the morning.
Wait, no, Ivy said she’d take care of it.
The police hadn’t been too happy about the gun, but Ivy showed them her permit and they backed off. They would arrest Kramer once he was released from the hospital. The shit stain survived, despite Jane’s best efforts. The cops said they’d question Jane after, but they’d need her statement soon.
What the hell would she say?
What explanation could we give?
Well, you see, the piece of scum with the keys in his neck, he helped frame me for a crime I didn’t commit and then years later, I came back for revenge; he found out and took it out on my girlfriend.
Yeah, that didn’t sound far-fetched at all.
Taking a shuddering breath, I pushed open the door and stepped carefully inside. It was a small, private room. I paid for it so she didn’t have to share a room with a bunch of strangers. Jane would hate that.
I faltered at the sight of her lying on the bed, her eyes closed. One eye was swollen to twice its normal size, dark red and purple and angry as fuck.
There was a cleaned-up cut on her lower lip.
A massive bruise on her cheekbone, stitches where he’d split her skin open.
Imagining what she’d gone through in that apartment made my legs shake. I walked to the end of the bed and grasped the footboard. Bowing my head, I tried to pull myself together. She was alive. That was what mattered.
Was it?
Because the woman I loved was lying in a hospital bed, beaten to a pulp, because of me.
“Jamie?”
I lifted my head at the croaky voice.
Jane could only open one eye. I straightened and covered my mouth with my hand as I stared up at the ceiling, trying to get my shit together.
“Jamie, come here.”
I didn’t deserve to be anywhere near her, but still I went. I took hold of the hand she held out to me, pulled the chair by the bed closer, and kissed the back of her hand as I lowered down into the seat. Her fingers tickled at my cheeks, scratching against my stubble.
I couldn’t speak.
There was too much to say.
“I’m going to be okay.” Her voice was husky, like she’d been shouting for a long time.
“Nearly had heart failure when I heard her scream again.”
Jesus fuck. I closed my eyes.
“Jamie, I’ll be fine.”
I forced myself to look at her.
“The bruising and swelling will go down. By some miracle, he didn’t break my nose. Yay for that.” She tried to smile and then winced when it pulled at the cut.
“He will pay for this, Jane.”
“I don’t want that.” She squeezed my hand.
“Well,” Asher’s voice sounded loud in the room, “it’s going to happen.”
I glanced over at him as he came to a stop by the b
ed. His expression darkened with anger as he took in Jane’s face.
“Jamie’s right, Jane. Kramer will pay.”
“Not you too, Asher.”
“Not like you think.” He rounded the bed to the other side, to take the empty chair there. “I just spoke to my contact at the FBI.” Asher shifted his gaze from me to Jane. I tensed, my grip probably too tight on Jane’s hand, at the mention of the bureau. “They arrested my father this evening and Kramer will be taken into custody once the hospital releases him.”
“What?” Jane breathed.
Yeah, what?
Blood rushed in my ears.
Asher shot Jane an apologetic look. “I’ve been working with the FBI since before we met. Just a few weeks before we met, actually. They’ve been building two cases against Foster, and I helped them with both. Steadman Productions was funded with money provided by a criminal organization. An organization Foster is still actively involved with. He’s been swimming in shit for a long time. They’ve also been working with some of my father’s victims to bring serial sexual assault charges against him.”
Holy shit.
Jane’s nails dug into my skin as she looked at me, astonished. “Jamie.”
“What does this mean?” I asked, trying to stay cooler on the outside than I felt inside.
“It means that you’ll have to talk to the FBI.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “I know you probably don’t trust the justice system in this state very much, but I told them what I knew about your case. With Kramer attacking Jane, they want to hear about Skye and what Foster did to you. Don’t get your hopes up yet, because they’ll need the cashier who got shot to come forward for there to be a chance of you being cleared for the robbery.
“But whatever happens, Foster is looking at a long time in prison. No matter how the trial turns out, my father will lose everything.” Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “His company, his reputation. The world will know what a predator he is, Jamie. I’m sorry Skye didn’t live to see it, but she’ll get her justice.”
A sob from the bed brought my eyes to Jane.
“That’s what I couldn’t tell you, Jane.” Asher reached for her other hand. “That’s why I had to keep you out of it by lying. We couldn’t have you interfering with the long game. I hope you understand.”
She nodded through her tears and turned to me.
I didn’t know what to feel.
I thought in that moment that I’d feel euphoric or hopeful … or anything.
But I was numb.
Everything I’d been focusing on since getting out of prison was suddenly swept out of my control.
And Jane …
I knew deep down that she deserved better than me. She deserved someone who wouldn’t have put her in danger because of his own fucking vendetta.
The truth of that hurt so much, I went someplace else inside me. Someplace where I could feel nothing.
So that’s what I felt in the end.
Numb.
Chapter 34
JANE
* * *
I knew something was very wrong when Jamie didn’t show at the hospital the next day to pick me up. Apparently, he’d asked Asher to do it.
Dread swam in my gut.
The pain in my face had decreased, but the pain in my ribs had only worsened. Every time Asher took a corner, I had to bite back a growl of frustration. Asher had brought me a pair of sunglasses so I didn’t have to walk around looking like I’d just gone ten rounds with Tyson Fury. Truthfully, however, I was glad to be out of the hospital. Especially after the police showed up to interview me about Kramer’s attack.
Reliving it wasn’t pleasant, and although Asher was by my side, I resented Jamie’s absence.
“The FBI might take jurisdiction over this case since it’s connected to a major crime committed by Foster, so expect more interviews,” Asher warned as he drove toward my apartment.
“Why didn’t Jamie come?” I asked.
“He didn’t say.”
Fifteen minutes later, we walked into my apartment, and I drew in a deep breath as images of yesterday’s attack flooded me.
No. I wouldn’t be afraid of this place. I wouldn’t allow that. I couldn’t.
It was easy to tell myself that.
Harder to feel.
I gazed around, noting the door and table were already fixed.
“Ivy.” Asher read my expression. “She’s pretty impressive.”
“I need to thank her.” Jamie told me last night about how Ivy had come to my rescue and stopped Kramer from getting away.
“There’s time for that. Why don’t we get you settled in?”
My eyes caught on a huge bouquet—beautiful, expensive white roses and pale pink peonies. “Who?” I strode toward the coffee table and took the card out of the bouquet. Ivy must have placed them here for me. The card read:
Margot, we’re so sorry to hear what happened. Thinking of you and wishing you a speedy recovery. Sandy, Joe, Vale, and all the team at Chimera.
“The production team.” I glanced over my shoulder at Asher, wondering how they knew about the attack.
“Ah. I called in for you and explained what happened. I hope you don’t mind.”
The idea of fielding questions about the attack when I returned to work made me a little nauseated, but Asher had probably saved my job. “No. Thank you.” I caressed the rose petals. “It was sweet of them to send these.”
“More people care about you than you think, Jane.”
I didn’t know why. I was horrible at letting anyone in. “Asher?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you forgive me?”
He took a tentative step toward me. “Baby, for what?”
“For shutting you out when I discovered you were deliberately stopping me from finding evidence that might implicate Foster.”
Asher sighed. “You’ve been hurt a lot. And I did lie. But we’re past that now, right?”
“You’ve been doing something so dangerous and so emotionally draining with no one to talk to about it. You amaze me. Thank you, Asher. You are one of the bravest people I know.”
Emotion shimmered in his eyes as he crossed the room to hug me. Carefully.
“If you need to talk about it,” I whispered, “I’m here.”
“One day I will probably take you up on that. But right now, you need some sleep.”
I shook my head as we pulled back from one another. “I want to see Jamie.”
His presence across the hall was a pulse in the back of my head. I was so focused on him, seeing him, I could shove aside my throbbing headache and the need to sleep for a little longer.
However, when I knocked on Jamie’s door, there was no answer. I knocked harder. Called his name. Receiving no response, I returned to my apartment and dug the spare key to his apartment out of my kitchen drawer.
“Jane, what are you doing?” Asher asked, following me across the hall.
“He gave me a key for a reason.” I unlocked the apartment and stopped as soon as I stepped inside.
All his boxes were taped back up and piled by the door.
Next to a suitcase and the punching bag he’d hung in Sheila’s bedroom without her permission.
My stomach dropped.
“It might not mean anything.” Asher hovered at my back.
Each step was agony on my ribs, and I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep for a decade. Now, however, adrenaline was spiking, agitating me. Seeing his laptop on his desk, I crossed the room, my gaze zeroing in on the papers folded beside it.
Not caring if I was violating his privacy, I unfolded the papers and saw the top one was the rental agreement for the Porsche and the one beneath it—
The papers fell from my hands as I stumbled back in disbelief.
“Jane?” Asher sounded far away. “Jane, what is it?”
I blinked, staring blindly out the window.
A receipt for a plane ticket.
To B
oston.
“Jane?” Hands clamped down on my shoulders and I jumped, wincing as pain flared through my ribs.
“Shit, sorry.” Asher held up his hands warily. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I tried to breathe normally. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I don’t …” I touched my forehead. My head was throbbing. And I felt sick.
Was it the concussion or the realization that Jamie McKenna was planning to abandon me?
“We need to get you to bed.”
I shook my head. “Tylenol first … and then I need you to drive me somewhere.”
Jamie wasn’t at the rental place handing over the Porsche, and he wasn’t at his favorite coffee house. For a while, I sat in Asher’s car and panicked that I should have stayed put at the apartment and waited for Jamie to come home. That I might have missed him with all my bad Sherlocking.
Then a thought occurred to me, one I couldn’t shake, and soon I was directing Asher to a house on a quiet suburban street in Glendale. A house that had a back deck that looked out over the Verdugo Mountains and held within it my best and worst memories.
Somehow, I wasn’t even surprised to see Jamie’s Porsche parked outside it or to see him in the driver’s seat staring at the house.
I’d long since given up figuring out the cosmic tie between us.
“Can you wait for me?” I asked my friend.
“Of course.”
Taking a deep breath, I got out of the car and walked at a pathetic, sloth-like pace across the street.
Jamie startled as I opened the car door and eased myself into the passenger seat beside him with less speed than an octogenarian. He met my eyes with a flat, blank look. Trepidation filled me.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I guess I realized after I found the receipt for the plane ticket that you might want to come here to say a final goodbye.”
When he didn’t answer, my anger took over my fear.
“Were you going to say goodbye to me?”
Jamie cut me a dull look. “What good would it have done?”
I felt my heart crack right down the middle, and it hurt worse than anything Frank Kramer had done to me. “You don’t love me.”
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