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it s no big deal, I admitted. Your brother mentioned that you were working on setting up a
new company.
He looked up, surprised. And what are your thoughts?
I m thinking you re going to be great, I whispered. Many people don t know when to
cut their losses when it s over. They choose to stay in a dead-end situation until everything
comes crashing down on them. You re doing the right thing, Jett.
Sacrifices before losses. I m happy you get me, he said. I m sorry I didn t tell you about
the missing money sooner.
I shrugged. It s okay. I would ve loved to help you, though.
I could use your expert opinion in everything I do, Miss Stewart. How much do you
charge?
A lot. My grin matched is. And I know exactly how you can repay me. I pointed at the
couch behind us. Brian was kind enough to give us a nice room. We could commence our
negotiations right now.
I walked over to the couch. Jett followed me and sat down, pulling me onto his lap. His
hands pushed aside my hair to caress the nape of my neck. I closed my eyes, relishing his
touch.
Too bad we re not staying for long, he said.
Why not?
I still don t trust them. It s too dangerous for you. And second His breath tickled my
skin a moment before his lips parted in a tender kiss. I want to spend quality time with you.
I turned to regard him. Brian helped you find me. He s trying to locate your father and
find out what the club s all about. Don t you think you re overreacting a little bit with the
whole trust issue thing?
It s not that simple, Jett said grimly.
Well, it sort of was to me.
There was something in his expression that made me clamp my mouth shut and listen.
He was angry. But why? Wasn t he happy to be back in touch with his old friends?
I don t understand, Jett. This used to be your family. I removed myself from his lap and
kneeled before him, my elbows resting against his knees, as I looked at him. You guys share
so many memories. I thought you d want to spend time with them.
His face resembled a grim mask. Something I d said was wrong, and it made my mind
frantic to figure out my misstep. I touched his leg to get his attention. Jett didn t react.
I m sorry, I said, unsure what I was apologizing for. Do you want to tell me what s
going on?
The silence between us seemed oppressing. Voice carried over from outside the door
the chatter, music, and laughter building a strong contrast to what was going on inside Jett s
tormented soul. I could sense that if I probed too hard, I d go too far, and I didn t want to push
him. I watched Jett s fingers curl around the picture frame on the side table. On it were a group
of men sitting around a bonfire. With his tanned body and gorgeous dimples, I recognized Jett
instantly. I bit my lip as I tried to imagine what could have caused Jett s sudden change in
mood.
I killed my best friend, he said, as though reading my thoughts. His voice was so low I
wasn t sure I d heard him right. His finger pointed at a blond man sitting next to him, holding a
beer in his hand and laughing.
Was it an accident? I asked, breathlessly. It had to be. Anything else wouldn t make
sense.
No. He shook his head slowly. Not really. His voice was raw, and his eyes filled with
moisture. His face reflected so much pain that it seeped from his every pore. The thought that
Jett was a killer didn t quite fit the picture inside my mind. I couldn t imagine him doing
anything terrible, and yet I knew it was possible. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I
remembered the gunshots. Somehow I knew Jett had shot the men who had been about to
rape me. If it happened once, there was at least some possibility Jett had hurt people before.
In the silence of the room, my glance moved from Jett to the picture in his hands. It
seemed to have been taken an eternity ago. But I couldn t ask the question burning a hole in
my brain. Instead I waited patiently until he was ready.
Joe did stupid stuff, Jett began. His words came slowly, struggling. He had owed
everyone, me included, because he was a gambling addict. He was so deep in shit, he couldn t
even tell me he had borrowed money from loan sharks. His voice faltered, and he took a deep
breath.
I swallowed. I had never seen Jett this way, his usual composed self breaking down. Not
even when he talked about his father.
One day he needed a driver to pick something up. I didn t think much of it, so I drove
him to the place without asking questions. But picking up wasn t the only thing he did that
day. He killed someone. Said it was an accident. He confessed to me about various loans and
the odd jobs he had been doing to repay those people. I promised I d have his back and help
him if he stopped working for them. But Joe didn t want to listen.
His voice was so heavy I knew there was more to the story. I watched him take another
breath and put the picture back on the side table. My body urged me to touch him, but the man
standing in front of me was trapped by memories, and I was seemingly forgotten, a shadow
that couldn t reach him.
That day he was supposed to take back the money he stole. Instead he hid it
somewhere inside the warehouse and told me he d leave the city, hide until he had made
enough money to repay his debt and the high interest.
I shrank back a little at the intensity in Jett s eyes. He didn t need to tell me what he felt
the pain was written all over his face, inside his soul, inside his mind. His hands were balled to
fists. I didn t need words to figure out that things had gone horribly wrong.
What happened? I asked quietly.
He pressed his lips in a tight line, struggling, his eyes moving back to the picture, as if it
held the answers he was looking for.
The money was gone the next day. Joe accused me of stealing it, and we had a fight. He
smiled bitterly. I was so angry about his accusation that I went to Brian and told him the
truth about the loans. The job. The money. I wanted to help Joe. But Brian Jett took a deep
breath, his tone angry. He wanted Joe out of the gang. Said he was a liability.
I looked up, confused. Why?
Because we already had problems with other gangs. It s the way this world works. Brian
said that Joe posed a risk to all of us because he d get us involved with the big guys and the
real shit, like drugs. Brian took me in when I had no place to stay. He was always there for me. I
went to him, trusting his judgment. When Brian wanted to kick Joe out, I begged him to give
Joe a second chance, because without a gang he would have had no protection from the
sharks. Brian was reluctant but eventually agreed under the condition we taught Joe a lesson
and Jett paused, taking his time I offered to do it. Even though I was angry with Joe, he
was my best friend, and I wanted to have control over what would be done to him. I suggested
a race with the plan to simulate a collision with Joe just to scare him, break a few bones, lock
him inside a hospital for a while, where we could help him. Brian agreed. But it went wrong.
He trailed off.
The air charged with heaviness. I knew what was coming, and it broke my heart.
I lost control over my car and killed him, Jett said slowly, his eyes hard and cold. It was
my fucking fault.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I stared at the picture and the man sitting
next to Jett. Jett never lost control while driving. I had seen it with my own eyes.
How is that even possible? I asked.
I didn t see the tree on his side of the road. He cast his gaze on the floor. In spite of the
dimmed lights, I could see the moisture shimmering in his eyes.
But he did, he whispered. When I hit him, he spun the car, pushed mine aside, and
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