Rule of Thirds (A Mirror Novel Book 1)

by Stephanie Tyler

  “No, we’ll do it better. She was an amateur.”

  “Why’d you fuck Bren?” Jacoby demanded now.

  “He deserved it,” she said flatly. “I was hoping it would be different, but he ended up being a disappointment.”

  “Because he wouldn’t kill anyone?”

  “He wouldn’t even listen to my story—not even after I saved him from Jasper. He was surprisingly ungrateful.” She sounded disgusted.

  “How long have you known about him?”

  “Jasper? Since you fucked him.”

  “Bren,” Jacoby said through clenched teeth.

  “Forever. You didn’t know Dad fucked around on Mom?” She leaned forward toward him, elbows on the table, eager, like they were in the middle of a coffee klatch session instead of a life or death thing.

  It was why people underestimated her. He never would. “I never thought about it. They sucked together. Christ.”

  “I know. They were fucking other people all the time. Dad might’ve not even been dad.”

  Jacoby considered that, kept his mouth shut that he knew, in fact, that dad was his dad, and Bren’s too. “I’m not killing, Jess—that’s not my thing.” He glanced over at Ward and Bren. “I brought them to you in good faith. I was worried Jasper was going to fuck you over. You have any idea how close he came?”

  “I’m aware.” She cut her gaze to Ward’s but her words were meant for Jacoby. “I suppose you want me to leave them alone.”

  “Yes. I’ll go with you. Think of this as good faith—and witnesses to more of your greatness.” Jacoby’s voice slurred. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “Anxious to party?” she asked wryly.

  “You think I haven’t been partying? You really believe I was into Ward?” Jacoby demanded. Ward’s gut twisted at the sound of Jacoby’s drugged voice.

  Truth serum.

  “I mean, come on—I’ve been fucking around on him the whole time—you know that, Jess. I told you that. I fucking did all this shit for you. I let you cut me—scar me—for life in order to keep the FBI off your back, and it worked. They invited the brother of a killer to help them.”

  She made a clucking, poor baby sound with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I promised I had someone who can tattoo over them.”

  “Jacoby—” Bren started.

  “Not my name,” Jacoby growled. “Christ, I’m tired of hearing them whine. When can we go? Not that that I can walk.”

  “I have faith in you, Brother.” She pushed a wheelchair toward him—and left it up to him to drag himself into the seat. It took three tries—all with his knees buckling, sending him back down to the ground—before he got in and slumped over.

  She walked behind him, gun drawn. “Arms.”

  “Jess—”

  “Arms.”

  He placed them on the handrails and she cuffed each of them tightly to the chair. “You’re cutting off my circulation.”

  As Ward watched, she gave Jacoby another shot in the back of the neck. In a few seconds, he slumped forward, and that’s when she loosened the cuffs…and massaged his fingers a little to get the color back.

  Truth serum.

  I fucking did all this shit for you.

  They invited the brother of a killer to help them.

  “Don’t worry—the van’s comfy,” Jessica said brightly, as though Jacoby could hear her. She acted like she could no longer see Ward or Bren as she wheeled Jacoby out of the room…and away from Ward, even as she called out, “Ward, remember what I told you.”

  *

  Jessica drove for half an hour in silence, and Jacoby didn’t bother trying to make conversation. He used the time to will the fucking drugs out of his system…and to decide if he was strong enough to follow through with his plan.

  She might look different—a little older, a little harder but still beautiful enough to seduce anyone she tried to. Her charisma—and his, if he was honest—were inherited from their mother. He and Jessica didn’t look anything alike though—she was a natural blond to his dark hair and eyes. His mother always told him that Jacoby looked like his grandfather, and he recalled seeing pictures once, and agreeing.

  It was surreal, being here with her again. Like old times, but not at all. Because this? This was the end. He’d make sure of it. He hadn’t hurt Ward the way he had for nothing.

  Finally, she pulled the van into a semi-deserted parking lot and turned the radio down. When she faced him, her eyes were full of fire and memories. “Cut the bullshit, Brother. Are you coming back or do I just cut you loose here?”

  “Because you can’t kill me either?”

  “You’re the only man I’ve ever been weak for.” It was probably the most honest she’d ever been. “I won’t apologize for that. But really, I’m not stupid—”

  “Neither am I. I know you’re going to keep me drugged up and make me commit some kind of crime so I’m running with you, right?” Fuck, he was so tired. It was hard to keep his words straight, his words bouncing around his mind. “Here’s what I know—you were never raped. Ever. It was a great excuse though—because you knew about my conscience.”

  She shrugged. “You’d been thinking about deserting me for a long time.”

  “I wasn’t like you.”

  “You didn’t mind parts of it. In time, you might’ve—”

  “Hated myself more? I’d have killed myself.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’d die for me, Brother?”

  He stared at her for a long time before answering. “Yes, Jessica. I would. I will.”

  *

  Ward, remember what I told you.

  Fuck. Ward fought with the bonds as her words echoed in his mind.

  He’ll be the one to kill you, Ward, and I won’t even be the one to make him do it.

  Ward had never told Jacoby any of this…and he’d never planned to.

  “Ward—” Bren prodded.

  “Almost got it.” Ward slashed himself deeply in the process, but he didn’t care. He got free, cut Bren’s bonds, glad to see the man was holding up reasonably well. In fact, he looked angry as hell, which was exactly how Ward felt. “Wait here for the police—”

  “No way. No fucking way,” Bren told him.

  “Fine.” No time to argue—he had to save Jacoby. As Ward went through his hallway, he tried his landline—but, as he’d suspected, she’d disabled it without disabling the alarm. Because that would’ve sent police and FBI racing to their rescue.

  And maybe making her kill them all, then and there. He never thought he’d thank her for anything. “Bren, you see any cell phones?” he asked now as he rifled through drawers and countertops in the hallway and kitchen.

  “No. I’ve got nothing.”

  “I don’t even have keys—I’ll have to hotwire the truck. And we’ll call for backup from the road—come on.” They both raced out to Ward’s truck, with no keys. Bren shoved him aside, saying, “You’re drugged, man—way more than me. No way you can drive.”

  And then he hotwired the truck. “Come on—get in.”

  “Fuck.” Ward did what Bren asked. “She didn’t drug you?”

  Bren glanced at him sideways. “Jacoby brought me here. Told me to act like I was drugged. Said he couldn’t promise shit. Jessica was too damned distracted by you two to double dose me. I’m not exactly someone she’s scared of.”

  “She’s not scared of me either.”

  “Of course she is,” Bren told him. “You’re trying to take away the most important person in her life.”

  Ward put his head back. “Just find them.”

  “Sure—I’ll use my non-existent psychic abilities.”

  “Pull over at the next rest stop so I can call the office.”

  “Did you know he was going to do this?” Bren demanded.

  “No idea,” Ward said through clenched teeth as the truck careened onto the highway.

  *

  It took three helos an hour to track down Jessica’s v
an. She’d had a half an hour lead on them, but Ward and Bren had been going in the wrong direction. By the time they’d backtracked, it was three hours since Jessica had taken Jacoby, and nothing good was racing through Ward’s mind.

  “There!” Ward yelled, pointing toward the alleyway corner Bren almost zoomed past. Instead, he jerked the wheel so the car was practically on two wheels as it squealed toward the white van.

  Ward had no idea what he’d see. He was out of the truck before it came to a full stop, heard Bren calling to him, but he didn’t turn back.

  On the other side of the van, he saw the first puddle of blood. A lot of blood. He’d stepped in it in his rush, slid to a stop when he came upon Jacoby, standing there, staring down at his sister.

  Jessica was lying on her back, a single bullet hole through her forehead…although she looked too damned peaceful for that to have been the cause of death.

  “Suicide,” Jacoby said dully.

  “She shot herself?”

  “We took the pills together. Waited ten minutes to make sure I’d absorbed enough…and then she let me end it with the bullet. Either way, she was dead,” Jacoby admitted, but still he hadn’t moved.

  “J, I would’ve…”

  “Neither of us needed to do this.” Jacoby’s voice was raw and his hand in Ward’s was so damned cold.

  “Jacoby, how much of the drug did she give you?” Ward asked.

  “Murder suicide. That’s the cause. Love you, okay,” Jacoby told him, and in this instance, Ward knew it wasn’t about the drug Jessica gave him…it was about how much Jacoby took to satisfy Jessica’s request. Jessica wouldn’t let Jacoby get away with anything less than a purposeful overdose—and Jacoby would do it because it meant his sister would finally be dead and gone.

  “Don’t you dare do this to me.” In the distance, Ward heard the sirens. He called for Bren to bring Jacoby a blanket, told Jacoby not to move so the drug wouldn’t work through his system too fast.

  In truth, Jacoby knew that, which was why he was standing like that, unmoving…all the while knowing his chances were slim. “I got her, Ward. That’s all that mattered. We both knew that.”

  “Stop talking.” Ward had never been more scared—and more furious—in his life.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jacoby woke and immediately knew the sights and sounds of the fucking hospital. He was both grateful to be alive and angry as hell for being here in the first place.

  What did you expect? You barely survived the overdose.

  In truth, he hadn’t been sure he would. And he’d been prepared not to, if for no other reason than to save Ward, Bren and everyone else Jessica would’ve taken her rage out on. He should’ve taken her out years ago.

  He rang the buzzer for the nurse, because the room was eerily empty, save for the machines beeping and buzzing all around him. He hadn’t expected Ward to be sleeping at his feet.

  And he didn’t disappoint you…

  “You’re awake. Great.” The nurse fussed with the IV lines running into his arms. “I’m supposed to make a call when you wake up.”

  A call? Jacoby was really goddamned pissed. “Don’t bother.”

  “I’ve got my orders.”

  Fuck, he was at Quantico. Or at least under guard somehow. “Whatever,” he muttered, and immediately felt for his ring. But his hand was empty.

  The nurse noticed and mentioned, “In the drawer, hon, for safekeeping. You want it on?”

  He did, but he shook his head no anyway.

  He wasn’t sure how much longer it was before Ward stormed into the room, glowering.

  Before Ward could say a word, Jacoby told him wearily, “It wouldn’t have worked otherwise, Ward. She needed to see the surprise on your face.” The betrayal too.

  Jacoby had expected that. Needed it. But it’d been more fucking painful than anything Jessica had ever done to him.

  “Jacoby—”

  “It’s cool, really. I fucking hated putting you in that position.”

  “I’m glad you think it’s cool.” Ward’s tone was ice as he spat through gritted teeth, “Did you think it was cool when you were fucking me goodbye?”

  “You would’ve done the same thing to me,” Jacoby pointed out. “You’re just pissed I took the choice from you.” Ward grabbed for Jacoby’s hand, the one where his ring had been. “It’s in the drawer—the nurses had to take it off.”

  Ward went into the drawer and pulled it out. Jacoby’s breath caught in his throat as Ward stared at it, and Jacoby, for several long moments. “Fuck you, Jacoby. I might take on the weight of the world, but I wouldn’t leave you the way you were ready to leave me.”

  With that, Ward threw the ring back into the drawer and slammed it shut…and then he walked out the door.

  *

  Bren came in next. Whether he’d come with Ward or not, Jacoby didn’t get a chance to ask, before Bren started in.

  “You did this on purpose,” Bren accused.

  Jacoby forced himself to shrug carelessly. “If there’d been any other way…”

  “To not put me through hell. Again?” Bren asked bitterly.

  And that’s exactly why I did this… “You were hiding evidence,” Jacoby pointed out and watched Bren’s expression carefully.

  “I told you everything,” Bren protested.

  “No, you didn’t. I know you didn’t—Jessica did the same thing to me, made me promise to stay away from Ward or she’d kill him. I figured, if it worked for me, she’d try it on you.” He paused. “Where’s the note?”

  Bren opened his mouth—probably to attempt to lie, then sighed instead. “She said you hid it from Ward too.”

  “She was a fucking menace—and she’s gone now. She would’ve taken you for a ride for the rest of your life,” Jacoby reiterated.

  Bren’s voice broke when he answered, “You think she still won’t?”

  He left the room and Jacoby collapsed back on the pillow, letting sleep—and the morphine—lull him away from the pain.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Abby had insisted that Jacoby come to her house to rest and recover…and since Ward hadn’t called him again for the rest of Jacoby’s five-day hospital stay, Jacoby figured that getting out of town for a bit couldn’t hurt.

  It definitely wouldn’t help, though, but Abby was like a force of nature when she was insistent.

  She was also angry—at him, but more so at Ward. And that justified Jacoby’s own anger, so he went willingly with her, let her fuss over him for several days in the house where they’d once worked together to catch another famous female serial killer.

  Two down, God knows how many more there are to go, he’d told her tiredly at one point, after they’d stayed up talking late into the night.

  “When you put it like that…” Abby trailed off. She was curled in the chair across from the couch that Jacoby had chosen to flop on when he’d arrived. She’d tried to get him into a bed, but he’d become one with the furniture.

  The only time he left was when Mrs. Mueller threatened to come over and read his tarot cards. But it was past midnight, so he figured he was safe for the night, at least.

  “Do you want me to call him?” Abby asked finally, in a tone that let him know she didn’t like the idea at all.

  “The FBI knows where the fuck I am, Abs.”

  “True.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “That makes me hate him even more.”

  “Don’t,” he said tiredly. “It’s as much my fault—”

  “You were backed into a corner. And you’ve always thought the weight of the world fell on your shoulders.”

  Jacoby extended his arm toward her, palm out as if to shake her hand. “Hi, pot. I’m kettle.” She shot him the finger and smirked. “Don’t hate him, all right? That’s hating a part of me.”

  She sighed as her phone rang. “So goddamned dramatic. Fine—I won’t hate him. Much.” She held up the phone. “Speaking of dramatic, this is Ethan. He’s made me wait fiv
e days. Now it’s my turn.”

  Jacoby snorted. He’d also put his thumb inside his palm, like he was going to roll around the ring he hadn’t been able to put on since they’d taken it off him at the hospital.

  He and Ward were married. It was different now—they couldn’t just walk away from each other. Not easily.

  Not that they’d ever been able to. It wasn’t so much that Ward made space for him as much as Jacoby bull-in-china-shopped his way into Ward’s house. Even when Jacoby went into the field, he’d always leave his stuff behind. Usually, right in the middle of where Ward would trip over it, almost like he didn’t want Ward to forget him.

  He’d noticed that Ward, even with his OCD-ish tendencies toward neatness, might fold the clothing left and tidy up the piles, but ultimately he’d leave everything where it’d fallen, as if they were a way to ensure Jacoby would come back to him. And Jacoby did, over and over.

  They’d taken it for granted, two men who never took life for granted, because they both knew how precious it was. And as he explained all of this, it was as much for his own benefit as it was for Abby to understand what was happening.

  “We were both scared shitless of each other,” Jacoby said now. “Scared of what we felt.”

  “I think so, yes.” Abby frowned. “You were both so busy worrying about keeping each other safe that you didn’t realize the hurt you were causing each other.”

  “Jessica really did a number on us.”

  “So why’d you let her do it again? Are you going to let her haunt you even in death?” Abby asked fiercely.

  It was Jacoby’s turn to give her the finger.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Ward hadn’t spoken to Jacoby in two weeks when the familiar sound of the motorcycle roared up the driveway.

  “That motherfucker,” Ward muttered, anger and relief sweeping him in equal parts. Both grew stronger when Jacoby let himself into the house as if he belonged there…the time apart had racked him with enough guilt to last a lifetime. Abby calling to threaten him if he came near Jacoby hadn’t helped. “I guess you escaped your jailer.”