Black Tangled Heart

by Samantha Young

  I flinched at the thought. “It’s been seven years,” I whispered. “And I’ve done nothing.”

  “We’re trying.” He reached over to rub a soothing hand down my arm. “And we’ve got time. This isn’t a movie where the bad guy gets his within the two-hour run time. Foster is smart, but one day he’ll slip up, and we’ll be there when he does.” He suddenly grinned at me. “Here’s something that might cheer you up: he’s got a black eye and he’s cradling his left side like he has cracked ribs.”

  I frowned. “Huh?”

  “Someone beat him up.”

  “Why?” Not that I cared. I would’ve liked to have seen it.

  “No clue. But he’s not talking, so whoever it was managed to get one over on him. You should see him. He’s using makeup to try to hide it.”

  His laughter made me chuckle. I rolled my head toward him, my hair rustling in my ear with the movement. “I love you, Ash.”

  His face softened. “Love you too.”

  17

  JAMIE

  The black Porsche Taycan glided down the hills toward Glendale with smooth quietness, and the view of LA from Laurel Canyon barely registered. It was a valley of lights in the distance, of life and humanity. Where once I’d seen the beauty in it, all I saw now were the shadows in between the lights. The dark places where dark deeds were done.

  Seeing her for the first time in two years didn’t help my mood.

  Jane.

  I gripped the steering wheel tighter and seethed.

  She left the party with Asher Steadman.

  And for the first time in two years, I felt my control slip.

  The one thing Irwin Alderidge taught me was to keep my emotions locked down tight. When you were a cold, emotionless bastard, no one could guess what you were thinking. What you were planning.

  I thought I’d heeded his lessons well … but whenever Jane entered the equation, my fucking heart raced and a cold sweat dampened my skin. Watching her leave with the son of the bastard who destroyed my life was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. And I’d done a lot of difficult shit in my life.

  I locked down. Stopped myself from racing out of Patel Smith’s house to confront Jane.

  It wasn’t part of the plan.

  I’d spooked her. Just like I’d hoped. It was the beginning.

  When I first discovered Jane was working in Hollywood, I felt betrayed. Sure, the job was art related, but our plans involved a quiet, creative life away from the glitz and lights of Hollywood. Money had never been our priority. Fame was to be avoided at all costs. Yet, there she was: Steadman’s woman. Captured in gossip rags in her bikini on a resort vacation with him. I hated those photos when I first saw them online. Jane sprawled across the pages for any fucker to fantasize over.

  It was out of my hands, and now I couldn’t care less. I stopped caring the moment I found out she was sleeping with the enemy.

  Traitor.

  “Anything on Foster?” Jane’s voice filled the Porsche.

  The question made my breath catch.

  Getting into Patel Smith’s party had been way too easy. These people needed to up their security. What was even easier was planting a listening device in Asher Steadman’s $2 million car. It shouldn’t have been. But Asher’s friend, Kent Bishop, had an expensive drug problem and was willing to do anything for cash. He’d put the bug in his friend’s car when they drove out to Malibu for a surf that morning.

  Asher hadn’t said anything of importance so far.

  Hearing Jane’s voice, though, made my heart pound.

  “I can’t get Lisa to talk,” Asher replied. “He’s paid her off. Like he has the last few. And they’re too scared he’ll ruin their careers. I have to be careful too. If Foster discovers I’m investigating him, it’s all over.”

  What the fuck? My hands tightened around the steering wheel. Did this conversation mean what I thought it meant? Were Jane and Asher investigating Foster too?

  “Maybe it’s time I went in,” Jane said.

  “No,” Asher snapped. “We will not have this conversation again.”

  What was she talking about?

  “Jane, a honey trap is too dangerous. And who is to say whatever you discover would stand up in court? Worst-case scenario—and the most likely scenario—he takes what he wants from you and you’ll be just another one of his victims.”

  Fucking hell. She was talking about luring Foster Steadman into … what? Trying to attack her? Was she insane?

  And why do you care?

  Well, thirty seconds ago, I didn’t. However, if Jane and Asher were trying to find evidence against Asher’s father, it was because of what he did to Skye. Because of what he did to me. It had to be.

  But that didn’t make any sense.

  Shit.

  “It’s been seven years,” she whispered. “And I’ve done nothing.”

  My eyes widened. It was about Skye. Maybe even about me. “Jane?” I murmured, feeling a little sick. “What the hell is going on?”

  “We’re trying.” Asher spoke again. “And we’ve got time. This isn’t a movie where the bad guy gets his within the two-hour run time. Foster is smart, but one day he’ll slip up, and we’ll be there when he does … Here’s something that might cheer you up: he’s got a black eye and he’s cradling his left side like he has cracked ribs.”

  My brows pinched together.

  “Huh?” Jane asked, mirroring my confusion.

  “Someone beat him up.”

  Who? I wasn’t aware of that.

  “Why?”

  “No clue. But he’s not talking, so whoever it was managed to get one over on him. You should see him. He’s using makeup to try to hide it.”

  I heard them chuckle together over Foster’s misfortune, and again, I questioned everything.

  All my plans suddenly hovered in the air, suspended.

  “I love you, Ash,” Jane whispered.

  Just like that, my plans were back in place.

  “Love you too.”

  Jealousy, a thick, writhing, painful feeling that turned my blood so hot I couldn’t think straight, cut through me. I thought I was past the jealousy.

  Yet somehow, knowing Jane hadn’t forgotten about Skye made everything that little bit more complicated again. She hadn’t moved on from Skye but she’d moved on from me. And I hated her for the latter.

  Maybe I could’ve gotten over it if she hadn’t moved on with my enemy’s fucking son.

  Screw whatever plans Jane had in motion. I was still coming for them all.

  Silence filled the Porsche as my ex and her boyfriend’s conversation drew to a halt. Lost in seething thoughts, it surprised me to realize I was almost at the small house I was renting in Glendale.

  For now.

  Sheila had agreed to my price, which meant I was moving to Silver Lake.

  Shaking my head, I cursed how clammy and slick my palms felt against the wheel. I had to get my shit together. Sweaty palms were not the palms of a guy in control.

  Look how far you’ve come, I tried to calm myself.

  Never would I have imagined my book would become a runaway best seller, that I’d have the financial freedom to come to California and plan my vengeance.

  Two years I’d been out.

  Two years it had taken me to get to this point, and Jane Doe or Margot Higgins or whatever bullshit name she went by wouldn’t stop me now.

  Swinging the car into my drive, I noted the red Lotus parked on the street in front of the house.

  Dakota.

  Hoping that meant news, I parked my rental and eyed the Lotus as I got out. The driver’s side door opened, and a long, gorgeous leg set off by a red stiletto appeared first. The rest of Dakota Jones followed it.

  The tall, exceptionally built madam, wearing a tight dress, short on bottom but conservative on top, sashayed up the walk to the small porch. For once, I couldn’t see her. I kept seeing Jane standing in that library.

  Separated from everyone e
lse.

  Finding refuge in books.

  Holding my book in her hand.

  Still so fucking beautiful, just one look cut me off at the knees.

  “You okay?” Dakota asked, yanking me back to the present.

  I grunted and turned toward the front door, letting us inside.

  “Drink?” I offered.

  “Water if you have it.”

  The house was an open concept, and I could see Dakota settling into a leather armchair as I strode into the kitchen to get her bottled water from the fridge. I took one for myself, enjoying the chilled sweat on its surface. My skin burned; it had since seeing her.

  Immersing myself in an ocean of cold water didn’t sound so bad.

  I handed Dakota her bottle and took the seat across from her. We watched one another in silence as we each took a swig.

  Her intelligent blue eyes studied me. “You’re on edge.”

  Jane’s eyes, rounded with shock, filled my vision.

  Those plump lips parted on a gasp.

  Then I heard her whisper, “I love you, Ash.”

  Fury flooded me.

  Trying to stem the tide of emotion, I waved at Dakota. “You got news?”

  Dakota had been hired by Irwin Alderidge, a powerful man I saved and befriended in prison. He knew Dakota because she ran the most elite brothel in Los Angeles. And she owed Irwin. I didn’t know why. It was none of my business. All I knew was that it must’ve been some debt for her to jeopardize her brothel’s reputation for me.

  If I were a better man, I wouldn’t have put her in that position, but all I cared about was that her debt meant a chance to give Skye the justice she deserved. Dakota agreed to infiltrate Foster Steadman’s wife’s social circle. It took her three months. None of the morons realized Dakota wasn’t the wife of a rich CEO. She was the rich CEO. If someone wanted to make money selling sex, there was no better or safer place to look than Dakota’s. She took care of her people. No one fucked with a Dakota employee.

  Getting close to Rita Steadman meant getting close to Foster. Dakota gained his trust enough to tell him about her brothel. He’d heard of it, of course. She’d opened the golden gates to him. VIP access. The bastard bit the bait and for the last six months, we’d been recording and filming him at the brothel. He liked the girls to play out a forced-seduction scenario. That was putting it politely.

  “We’re done,” Dakota said. Her tone was ice. Firm. “He hurt one of my girls, which means he’s banned. No exceptions. I also had Lucifer fuck him up enough to send a message. I don’t care who he is.”

  That explained the conversation between Asher and Jane in the car about Steadman’s black eye.

  As disappointed and concerned as I was, I wished I’d been there to see that. Lucifer was one of Dakota’s security guys—six foot seven and built like a Mack Truck.

  “You have enough to ruin him, Griffin.”

  Not flinching at the name everyone but Irwin and Lorna used now, I shrugged. Like this didn’t matter to me, when it mattered the most. “It isn’t enough.” What we had on Steadman could ruin his marriage and his social reputation, but how long would that last? He’d be back to making movies and money within weeks when some other scandal came along.

  No, I needed evidence that would put him in prison.

  “How bad was it?”

  “He … was trying to do something she didn’t want to do. Lucifer heard her screaming down the hall.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “We have it on tape. But, of course, my girl’s face will be blurred out when we give it to you.”

  Which meant it might be useless in court. If no one wanted to step up and press charges, all it might do was ruin his rep. For a while. I wasn’t going to manipulate anyone into testifying against the bastard, not after what he’d already put them through.

  “She okay?”

  Dakota’s face softened. “She’ll be fine.”

  What now? Where did I go from there? Rubbing the strain between my brows, I let out a slow exhalation. Frustration didn’t even cover how I felt.

  “I could stay,” Dakota offered in that soft, sexy voice. “Let you work out that pent-up anger you’re not hiding very well tonight.”

  I considered it. Looking at her, watching as she got up and walked toward me. Feeling the heat curl in my gut as she lowered to her haunches in that tight dress and smoothed a hand up my hard thigh.

  But instead of blue eyes, I saw hazel-green ones.

  Instead of sweetheart lips, I saw a full, lush mouth.

  Blond hair was replaced with hair the color of dark chocolate.

  My fingers itched to reach out and touch … but in my mind, I wouldn’t be touching Dakota. “Not tonight.”

  The madam saw too much. She pressed a hand to my chest. “I know there’s someone else in there. I’ve always known. That’s not what we are. It’s just sex, Griffin. Let me make you feel better.”

  Part of me wanted to say yes. To immerse myself in the fantasy. “No.” I grabbed her wrist and gently removed it from my thigh. “When we’ve fucked, I’ve always been fucking you. I wouldn’t be tonight. I may be a bastard, but I’m not asshole enough to fuck a woman while pretending she’s someone else.”

  Dakota processed this, her lips pressed together. Finally, she nodded and stood. I stared at her, wondering if I should be a selfish dick. Take her offer. Burn off this writhing energy that was making my blood too hot.

  She was older than me. Who knew by how much? Could be ten or twenty years. Her face was ageless, either due to good genes or an amazing plastic surgeon. It didn’t matter. Her experience drew me to her. Good sex with no strings attached.

  Yet, when she reached out, caressed my cheek in soft affection and said, “I worry about you, Griffin Stone,” I knew I’d made the right decision. She was a good woman. Few people might think that, doing what she did, but I saw her heart. And I thought it was a good one. Much better than mine.

  “Send me what you have.”

  She nodded and stepped back. “I’ll send over the last tape once we’ve manipulated it. Along with the others.”

  Always taking care of her people.

  “Are you going to drop them?” she asked. “I just want to know what I’m facing here.”

  “I won’t fuck you over. I’m sending them to Rita Steadman and if that last tape doesn’t make her want to leave the prick, I’ll blackmail her. I’ll tell her those tapes will go public. But I won’t do it.”

  At least … I didn’t think I would.

  I didn’t want to screw over Dakota, but I wasn’t sure what I was capable of anymore.

  Dakota seemed assured, though, and left me to it.

  When the front door closed behind her, I slumped against the armchair. I should think of my next move with Steadman. If I couldn’t get anything out of him through Dakota’s, then I needed another way in. I’d start with his personal life.

  Wife, gone. And hopefully she’d take half of everything he had in the divorce.

  What next, though?

  Jane’s voice whispered in my mind. “I love you, Ash.”

  I couldn’t get her out of my head.

  I needed her out of my head so I could concentrate.

  Instead, I heard her whisper again. “I love you so much, Jamie. Keep going. I want this.”

  I groaned and closed my eyes. If I let myself, I could drown in the memories.

  18

  JANE

  It was so hot, the asphalt within the studio lot had a haze over it. The air outside was dry and thick, causing sweat to bead across my skin. Despite the heat, I hurried across the lot with a fresh cup of hot coffee in my hand. Coffee was a necessity of life, after all.

  Behind me was a massive hangar on a studio lot within the grounds of one of the six majors: Chimera Studios. Inside that hangar were several soundstages, with multiple sets I’d helped design for Patel’s musical.

  Butterflies flapped around like crazy in my belly as I hurried toward my
car. I’d been at the lot since 5:00 a.m., making sure the sets were ready for the first day of filming the next day. Patel arrived not too long after, which surprised me considering he was probably hungover. It was just a pop-in visit to see how things were going.

  Now that he was gone, I had an hour for lunch, and I was taking it before someone stopped me—

  “Margot!” a voice called across the lot.

  Damn.

  I turned toward the hangar. Luke, Patel’s PA, stood in the doorway waving me over. Grumbling under my breath, I hurried back across the lot and stepped inside. Sliding my sunglasses up into my hair, I smirked at the way Luke bounced on his feet as if readying to take off on his next mission. I swear to God, he made me feel old; the kid had so much energy.

  “Sandy wants you.”

  Sandy was the production designer, Vale was the construction coordinator and Joe was the the head of the art department. Sandy and I worked closely together and delegated work to Vale and Joe.

  Pushing aside my irritation, I nodded. “Where is he?”

  “Second soundstage.”

  The first stage we passed was one of several sets for a prison interior. The fake prison felt pretty real as I walked past the visitors’ room. It would. I’d helped design it based on my time spent in the visitation room at the state prison. It hadn’t been easy working on that set. In fact, I’d fought back a lot of painful memories.

  “Margot!” Sandy called from the second stage. It was bigger and hosted several prison cells. The production designer stood next to my assistant, Lea. “We’ve got this old poster of Kate Upton in Berrio’s cell, but Leo says it should be in Pax’s.”

  “It’s Pax’s!” I called back. “It was in Pax’s this morning. What is it doing in Berrio’s?” What the hell?

  “Someone’s been messing around with the set! They’ve moved things. I don’t have time for this shit. Can you come over here and sort this out?”

  “It’s my lunch break. Lea knows what she’s doing.” I was all about giving my trust to the assistants in the art department, since that’s where I’d started.