The Lover's Surrender (No Exceptions) (10 page)

“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.

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.