CLEAN to the BONE Page 20
“So I’ve been told.” She swallowed hard, pulling back far enough to try and catch his gaze. “What is it, Jake?”
He dropped his arms, settling back against the bar. Charlie’s heart started to beat faster as the silence between them grew. Their silence had always been safe, comfortable, easy. This silence was brittle and sharp and expectant, like those razor blades in her lungs had escaped and were waiting for the right moment to slice deep.
“Jake . . .”
He straightened abruptly. “I have to leave again. And this time I won’t be back.”
Charlie stared at him, trying to breathe, to find her center, the way she had in Mackinac, that peace and joy. But it had vanished, leaving nothing but a black hole in its wake.
“This is about him, isn’t it?” she guessed before Jake could speak. “The man you and Stacia are after, the one who hurt your mother? You can tell me, Jake.”
For a moment, Jake hesitated, looking down at her, his eyes dark. Then he shook his head. When he spoke, his words were clipped. “This isn’t about him, it’s about you. Watching you, up there… I can’t do this, Charlie. I thought I could, but I was wrong.”
The room seemed to swirl around her, the people and the lights moving too fast. Swaying, she put out a hand, not for Jake, but for something more reliable, like the solid wooden bar. “Why?”
“Because you were right. I’ll hurt you.”
She inhaled sharply, her fingers tightening until her knuckles ached. “Bit late for that,” she whispered.
Whether he heard her or not, she couldn’t tell, because Jake wasn’t looking at her now. His voice was low, almost as if he were talking to himself. But she caught every word. “Some chances aren’t worth taking.”
* * *
She’d been clinging to the bar, her head bowed, but at those words, Charlie’s head whipped up. Those blue eyes went wide with such pain and shock that Jake staggered back as if she’d hit him. Silently, she turned and pushed her way through the crowd around them. He cursed as he realized how she must have taken his last words. You’re the one chance I don’t just want to take, I have to.
The words he’d spoken right before he’d told her he loved her.
“No, dammit. Charlie!” He shouted her name and took a step, reaching out to shove people out of his way. Then Jake caught himself. Slowly, he dropped his hand.
It was better this way, wasn’t it? Fists tight at his sides, he watched her careen into one person, then another. One last whirl of sunny yellow silk and the soft murmur of a hasty apology, and she was gone. There was a roaring in his ears along with an ache in his chest he already knew would never fade.
It had all become clear when Timor and Archie had escorted him to the elevator. He’d stared at those mirrored walls, the multiple reflections of his own strained face, and realized he was never going to be free of Darnell. That he was trapped. The hope he’d had, of setting aside revenge and moving on, had vanished. What remained in its place had hardened floor by floor to bitter resolve. Lucjan was wrong. It was too late, and he had to end it. Not just with Charlie, but with Darnell, too.
“When you do a thing, you do it properly, don’t you?” Bri murmured. Jake had forgotten the woman was even there.
When he’d left the elevator and seen her at the bar, he’d had a vague idea about using Bri as a wedge. Charlie had admitted her jealousy concerning the investigator, after all, and god knew, Sabrina had never bothered hiding her interest in him.
But no matter what he had to do, he found he couldn’t do that. He walked away from Bri now without a word.
He’d never get Charlie back after that. She only had so much trust to give and he’d burned up every single precious bit.
That was how it had to be, Jake told himself as he stumbled through the crowd. Darnell had shown him how little power he had to protect the ones he loved. Nothing had changed. He might as well be five years old again, back in the kitchen, looking out that screen while those monsters hurt his mother.
He’d rather see Charlie walking away from him than crumpled and bloody in the dust. Setting his teeth, Jake reached for the door. Only to find Bri’s hand on his arm. He shook it off with a growl.
“I am not leaving here with you,” he said, each word brittle and clear. “Our relationship is never going to extend to fucking, Bri. You’re a smart woman, I’m sure you’ve figured that out a long time ago.”
“Of course.” Bri leaned closer, too close. Before he could shift away, she murmured in his ear. “But you should consider leaving with me anyway. If you are trying to distance yourself from Miss Gracen, this will look even better to Darnell, don’t you agree?”
He went still.
Bri smiled and ran a languorous hand down his arm. This time Jake didn’t resist when she pulled him through the crowd toward the entrance.
A long black limo slid forward immediately. The driver hopped out and opened the door with a flourish. When they got inside the car, the silence stretched.
And stretched. Jake had no idea what the hell was going on, but he’d be damned if he spoke first. Finally, with a twitch of those perfectly made-up lips, Bri tapped the glass. “My credentials, please, Adam.”
The driver lowered the partition and handed her something. The next thing Jake knew he was looking at a badge. Blue and gold, with an unmistakable six-pointed silver star dead center. Even without the seal and the words Department of Justice, US Marshal, he knew his deep shit had just gotten even deeper. For a long, silent moment, Jake stared, considering all the possibilities, not one of them good.
“So, you’re a fed?” He leaned back, willing his body to relax, to treat this like any other job. Whatever it took to reach his end goal.
She smiled and reached over to speak again to the driver. “Drive around the city, Adam. Might as well get the taxpayers’ money’s worth out of this baby.”
Bri settled back into her seat before nodding her head toward the driver. “He could put it out tomorrow that he heard us going at it hot and heavy for hours. I’m not sure your painter would buy it, but maybe Darnell and his goons will. If you think it will help.”
“It wouldn’t.” He ignored the twinge in his gut at her offer. “What exactly do you know about ‘Darnell and his goons’?”
With a faint smile, simultaneously acknowledging and dismissing his attempt to control the situation, Sabrina lifted her hand and ticked off three points, one by one. “We know he met with you. That you talked to him and that he threatened you. And your sister.”
Someone was wired. It was the only way she could know that. But only Archie and Timor had been in that room with him. Those two were assholes, but loyal ones. Had the DOJ somehow bugged the room itself? No. The phone call. That had to be it; they were listening in on the cell. “Then you heard him threaten Charlie as well.”
She inclined her head. For a moment neither of them said anything. Outside, New Orleans slid by like the seductive ghost it was.
“So what do you want?” he asked finally, not because he gave a fuck about the agenda of the US Marshals, but because he was trying not to think of the way Charlie had looked in that instant before she had walked away.
He’d finally stripped her armor away only to stab her in the heart. Maybe he had his reasons, but she wouldn’t see it that way. Would she go back to hiding her shine, to covering up all the beauty inside her so the world would pass her by?
God, he hoped not. But better that than dead, right?
He closed his eyes, barely paying attention to Bri’s words.
“. . . no one has seen Darnell face-to-face in years. We think he might show up for you, though. If we could just lay hands on that bastard . . . wanted in three countries.” Jake forced his weary eyes open to see Bri giving him a level, considering look. “I’m asking if you’ll work with us. Wear a wire.”
A hot thread of anger was beginning to work through his cold devastation. “Are you out of your mind? As if I’m not fucked enough.”
“The police questioned me on that,” he said automatically. “I had nothing—”
“Oh, cut the shit. They have new evidence. Your fingerprints. Along with a lady of the night recanting her alibi.”
She raised an eyebrow as Jake stared, his mind darting from one possibility to the next. “I’d like to go back to my room. Now.” He had to call Lucjan, but if the marshals were keeping tabs on Darnell, who’s to say they hadn’t found a way to keep tabs on him, too?
Shit.
“You mean the room you were sharing with Ms. Gracen?” Sabrina tsked as he ran a hand over his face. “Here’s the deal. You tell me what Darnell wants you to do and we’ll help you.”
His laugh was slightly manic. “No, you won’t.”
Whatever it seemed like, Lucjan couldn’t have betrayed him. He wouldn’t. Of course, not so long ago he’d traveled over four thousand miles with that very fear dogging his every step. But Jake had never truly believed it, not even when he’d held that gun to his brother-in-law’s head. Lucjan keeping secrets, sure. Lucjan throwing him under the bus?
Never. Hell, Lucjan wouldn’t even hold the whole gun thing against him.
Because the man would’ve done the same thing himself. And they’d parted on better terms than ever. Jake’s temples ached with the blood pounding through his veins. But why would Dahlia recant?
This was a mistake, that’s all. A twisted fucking mistake Bri was using to gut him, to make him roll over and show his belly like a good dog. They probably wanted him to call Lucjan. Better to play dead. Jake forced his shoulders to slump, to unclench his jaw and his fists.
As expected, Bri’s voice softened, going in for the kill.
“We can protect you, certainly from Darnell . . . and maybe even from this Interpol deal. Jake, I know you want him, too. If we can get that bastard to show his face, get him to admit anything, or incriminate himself, whatever heist he’s got planned will be totally worth the risk.”
He frowned. “You don’t know the plan already?”
Her smile was thin. “We didn’t catch the details.”
So it had been the cell, and it had cut out on them. He shook his head. “Bugger off.”
“Hmm. I guess prison doesn’t scare you. But I wonder if your painter feels the same way.”
His eyes narrowed. “Charlie is as clean as they come. No way you’ve got so much as a parking ticket on her.”
“True enough, at least until she met you.” Bri’s eyes were hard. “Aiding and abetting. Lying to those cops in NOLA.” She tsked lightly as Jake cursed.
But her smugness vanished when he told her Darnell’s plan.
“Jesus Christ,” Bri murmured when he was done. She sat back in her seat and chewed on her lower lip. “It’s insane. Why would he risk such a thing? Maybe we could get the Foundation to let us borrow it . . . somehow.”
“Good luck with that.” He laughed.
She glanced at him. “I don’t need luck, I need you. Somehow, you’re the key. He’s almost as obsessed with you and your sister as you are with him.
“Bullshit. We’re a thorn in his side. That’s all.”
“I wonder about that.”
“You know what he did. To our mother?”
Bri touched his knee briefly before pulling back into the shadows. “I’ve read your statement.” He could be imagining it, but it seemed her voice had thickened. Maybe even a US Marshal had a hard time reading the words of a five year old boy explaining how he’d seen his mother brutally raped and killed. “And the report of the officers that found you both.” She went quiet. “He needs to be put away. You of all people should know that. Help me lock him up.”
Jake could barely hide his sneer. They both knew a cage was too good for Darnell, but maybe he’d found a use for Bri after all.
“As long as you protect Charlie, and you promise me she won’t get hurt, I’ll give you all the help you can stand.”
“You’ll work with us? Wear the damn wire?”
Jake gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
He didn’t mind being a rat to trap Darnell, but dancing to someone else’s tune, especially someone wearing a badge . . . His stomach knotted, but he ignored it. Even if they hadn’t been talking about the man who’d killed his mother, this was for Charlie.
To keep her safe, he’d dance with the motherfucking devil himself.
Now that he’d accepted, Bri sat up straighter, her tone firming as if for an audience. No doubt because their every word was being taped. “It will put you in a lot of danger.”
“No shit. I think I’m far more aware of that than you are.” He laughed again. “I’m not worried about myself . . . or my fucking sister. I’m sure you’re aware she has an avenging angel watching over her shoulder. No one is getting to her.” Jake would not put Lucjan’s name on whatever tape the US Marshals were making, but there was no need. Obviously, Bri knew exactly who he was talking about.
Her lip curled and she nodded again.
“So it comes down to the painter?” The agent chewed her lip, eyeing him. “If she disappears all of a sudden, if we take her to a safe house or surround her with muscle, Darnell will know something is up. It could blow our one opportunity to catch him.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you can kiss your opportunity to use me goodbye if you don’t figure this out. Charlie has to be one hundred percent safe or I get word to Darnell that you taped us and he scurries back into the sewers.”
“And you go to jail.”
He shrugged. He’d done time before. Never hard time, and not in quite a few years, but if he had to . . . Jake held out his wrists. “Fucking arrest me, then.”
Bri waved a hand, her smile thin. “Fine. We’ll figure it out.
“You really are a bit of a bitch, aren’t you?”
“You’ve no idea.” She smirked, then hesitated. “There’s something else. If this goes sideways, even if you help us . . . I’m not authorized to promise you immunity. We’re talking Interpol here. I can’t speak for them. Especially if we fail to nail Darnell.”
“Excuse me?” He lifted his head again, blinking at her.
“You remember Harry Keitel’s line in National Treasure?”
Somebody’s got to go to jail. “Great actor, terrible movie.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” She looked at him almost sympathetically. “Unless we get Darnell and nail him hard for this, Interpol is likely to throw the book at you. They’ve not been happy with your extracurricular activities. Or the company you keep.” For some reason, she seemed as reluctant to mention Lucjan by name as he was. “I can promise to recommend a light sentence either way, minimum security, see if Interpol will let you serve your time stateside . . . but there’s another problem.”
He just looked at her.
Bri sighed. “If we do succeed in taking Darnell down, the Bratva is going to want to know who and how. He has far too many friends in that organization. If you get away scot-free, have you considered they’re going to suspect it was you? That may make things . . . awkward.”
That was one way to put it. Again, Jake wondered just what the hell was going on in Poland. But he couldn’t let the threat of the Bratva faze him. What the fuck did it matter anyway?
He’d already lost everything that mattered.
* * *
Sabrina dropped him back at Tomas’s an hour later. He headed straight for the bar. Inside, he was trying not to fall apart, not to search the party for a glimpse of her. She would be long gone, he knew that. And he couldn’t do anything to show he gave a damn what Charlie was going through right now.
So he slid onto a barstool and waved the bartender over. “Give me a shot of 151. And leave the goddamn bottle.”
Half an hour later, he felt a chill slide down his neck and didn’t have to look around to
know who was behind him. “Got something you wanna say to me, big sister?”
His fingers clenched around the shot glass, his knuckles white as he waited for her words to cut him. He’d already decided against telling Stacia what was going on. He had to trust her to Lucjan, to keep her as clear from this mess with the marshals as possible. She’d hate him for it, but hopefully in the end, he’d see both her and Charlie safe.
Besides, right now he wanted to fight. Jake needed someone to lash out at him. God knew he deserved to be punished. The pain he was feeling wasn’t nearly enough. He craved more. Anything to burn away that look on Charlie’s face.
What he hadn’t expected was the soft sound of a choked sob. He whirled.
Stacia didn’t cry.
He hadn’t seen his sister’s tears since they’d both huddled under that bed almost twenty-five years ago. But those blue-gray eyes, the exact mirror of his own, spilled over as she stared at him. Her lips were trembling.
“Why did you do it, Jakey?”
He slumped back against the bar, unable to rip his gaze from those tears running down her cheeks.
She hadn’t called him Jakey since they were kids. Itty-bitty kids, back when it had felt like they were one person, sharing one heart, one mind. Twins in the truest, most primal sense of the word.
He shook his head helplessly, staring down at his feet. To Jake’s horror his own eyes started to burn. Jake spun back around and grabbed the bottle. Fuck the shot glass, who needed—
Stace yanked it from his grasp and threw it to the floor, shattering glass and splattering rum over both of them. In their small corner of the ballroom, heads turned and conversation ceased.
“Answer me, you stupid, useless fuck!”
With a growl, Jake got to his feet. He’d downed three-quarters of that bottle before Stace had shown up, but he was steady as a rock as he loomed over her.
“I broke her. That’s what I did, Stace. I broke her all to fucking pieces like you warned me I would. Fix that, big sister.”
Stace looked up at him. In that one second, her gaze took in the depths of pain trapped inside him that no one else would ever see. “Oh sweetie, you didn’t break Charlie. You broke yourself. And this time, I’m not going to be able to put you back together again.” Her voice was rough with a hopelessness that terrified him. “Goddamn you.”