Black Tangled Heart

by Samantha Young

Blood rushing in my ears, I walked down into the seating area and perched on the end of the couch. Asher took the armchair next to me and leaned his elbows on his knees. His expression was so earnest.

  Yet wasn’t he about to tell me he’d screwed me over?

  He exhaled slowly. “Jane, there are a few reasons I pretended to be investigating my father for you.”

  There it was.

  My hands clenched into fists on my knees.

  “One, I was afraid if he got suspicious, he’d start figuring out who you were. Two, I was afraid of hurting my mother in all this. The third reason … I can’t explain the third reason, but I will eventually.”

  “You will eventually? What does that mean?”

  “I can’t tell you.” He sat forward, his expression desperate. “But you have to believe me when I say that I didn’t lie to hurt you. I’m trying to protect you.”

  “No.” I stood, needing physical distance. “You were protecting your family.” Jamie was right. Jesus Christ. A sob caught in my throat. I couldn’t trust anyone.

  “Jane, how did you find out?”

  I whirled on Asher and he flinched at my expression. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter. Were you investigating me?”

  “No.” I’d let him think what he wanted. There was no way I could trust him to know that Jamie was in LA trying to get revenge against Foster. The thought of Asher telling Foster about Jamie made me feel sick. Thank God I’d decided not to confide in him. The consequences didn’t even bear thinking about.

  “Jane—”

  I held up a hand against whatever else he would say. What other pitiful excuses he’d give for making a fool out of me. I stared into his dark eyes. Dark eyes that used to make me feel safe. “There have been only two men that I have ever loved. Jamie. You. Two. And both of you broke my heart.” I moved toward the door.

  “Jane!” Asher grabbed my arm and I jerked out of his hold, stumbling back.

  “Don’t touch me,” I hissed.

  “One day I’ll explain,” he promised, determination hardening his features.

  I wanted to believe him, but I was too afraid to.

  The drive back to Silver Lake was a blur. I couldn’t remember getting from Asher’s beach house to my building. Emotions had me reeling. Noting Jamie’s Porsche in his parking spot, I walked upstairs to our floor and knocked on his door.

  Footsteps sounded behind it.

  Then he was there. Leaning against the door frame, expressionless as he took in my tear-stained face.

  “You were right,” I told him dully.

  Jamie just stared pitifully at me.

  I curled my upper lip. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him how I found out. Although I’d be interested to know how you found out.”

  He smirked and gave a slight shake of his head.

  That smirk … that stupid little smirk in the face of my pain hurt worse than anything so far since he’d come back into my life. I stumbled back. “You don’t even care. You don’t even care that this hurts me.”

  Something flickered in Jamie’s eyes as he straightened up from the door frame. “Do you love him?”

  Would it wound him if I had? “I thought I did.”

  Jamie clenched his jaw, his gaze dropping to the floor, probably to hide whatever it was he felt.

  I scoffed. “You asked me if I love him. You didn’t ask me if I was in love with him.” There’s a big difference, Jamie.

  His eyes met mine. “Are you in love with him?”

  Did he deserve to even know the answer?

  Shouldn’t I torture him a little?

  I slumped, so goddamn weary, I couldn’t stand it. “No. And I never have been.”

  There’s only one man I have ever been in love with.

  When he continued to stare at me, not giving anything away, hoarding his thoughts and feelings to himself, I fought the urge to shove him. To slap him. To scream at him.

  But that wasn’t me.

  I wouldn’t let him turn me into that person.

  With a snort of derision, I turned on my heel, walked toward my apartment, and stuck my key in the door. “Text me what I need to know about Elena.” Before he could respond, I stepped inside and slammed the door behind me.

  Agitation boiled my blood as I stalked through my apartment, restless and uneasy. I had an urge to curl up in a ball and sob for days.

  But that wasn’t me anymore.

  Yes, I’d lost everything that mattered to me six years ago. However, I’d survived it.

  “You survived it,” I reminded myself, fists clenched at my side.

  I would survive losing Asher.

  I would survive once Jamie got what he’d come to LA for and left me again.

  I wouldn’t go numb to protect myself.

  And no one … no one would break me.

  Asher tried to call. Jamie too. He even knocked on my apartment door a few times.

  I ignored all of it and attempted to concentrate on the day-to-day routine of working on set and on a painting underway at home for an art gallery in San Francisco. However, I didn’t ignore Jamie’s text with the information on Elena Marshall. After several days away from Jamie, and having worked through the weekend and most of the week on Patel’s movie, I took Thursday off. Around lunchtime, I got in my car and drove to the hospital in Hollywood.

  After I parked, I strolled to the yellow building. My steps slowed as I neared it. Once inside, a receptionist directed me to the room I was looking for, but when I stopped outside the double doors and stared in through the inset windowpanes, I found I couldn’t go any farther.

  As much as I wanted to help Jamie find some peace, the idea of infiltrating a cancer support group made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t go in and pretend to be there because a loved one was suffering. It was a betrayal to the others who had come to that group to find people who understood what they were going through.

  My gaze zeroed in on Elena. She’d been in her late thirties when she testified against Jamie. A perfectly ordinary woman, she’d worked night shift at the twenty-four-hour mini-mart for six years before Steadman paid her to lie. Jamie and I never knew if she’d known she’d get shot that night, but we surmised it had always been part of the plan because it meant a longer sentence for Jamie.

  Right then, she leaned across from her chair to hold the hand of a young woman who was crying as she spoke. It was an act of kindness. Of comfort. Elena’s eyes were sad but warm as she gave the girl’s hand a squeeze.

  I remembered at the time when she testified against Jamie in court that she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would persecute an innocent man. I didn’t care then, though. At nineteen, there were no shades of gray in the case against Jamie. As far as I was concerned, everyone involved in framing him was wicked and cruel.

  The rage I’d felt toward her the day she stood on the stand and identified Jamie as the man who had shot her had cooled a lot since then. Now I longed for answers. I wanted to make sense of this woman’s choices. I wanted to know if what she’d already been through would satisfy Jamie.

  Would it satisfy me?

  However, I couldn’t go in there.

  Every time I went to push inside, I faltered and paced outside the doors, trying to drum up the courage to walk in. It never came. Frustrated, I slumped down on a chair outside the room and buried my head in my hands. There had to be another way to get close to Elena without disrespecting a room filled with strangers.

  Skye would not agree with this, and considering half the reason I was still on Jamie’s side in all this was because of Skye, I couldn’t go through with it. She was the voice in the back of my head. If it had all been about Skye and not Jamie, I wouldn’t be doing any of it because Skye wouldn’t want it. She’d want Jamie and I to move on and live our lives.

  I knew that with absolute certainty.

  But Jamie couldn’t do that, so here I was. Helping him.

  Or failing at helping him.
<
br />   The feel of a hand on my shoulder brought my head up. Startled, I stared into the warm brown eyes of Elena Marshall. Taken aback, I realized that the support group had dispersed, a few shooting me curious looks as they departed.

  “Are you okay?” Elena sat on the chair beside me. “I saw you hovering outside the entire time.”

  Stunned to be this close to her, I couldn’t speak.

  Emotion, anger being the foremost, clogged my throat, and I realized I hadn’t let go of my fury toward her as much as I’d like to think.

  “Are you sick or does someone you love have cancer?” she asked tentatively, as though she was afraid to spook me.

  Look at her. That seemingly genuine concern in her eyes. Was it real? How could it be? How could a kind person do what she had done to Jamie? Did they talk about pain management in her support group? I could talk about that for days, how Jamie was in so much pain, there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to take it away. “Someone I love,” I whispered.

  Elena nodded. “It’s difficult, isn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  She held out her hand. “I’m Elena. I run the Coping with Cancer support group.”

  I stared at her held-out hand. I couldn’t shake it.

  Her smile wilted a little as she lowered it. “Why didn’t you join us today?”

  “It didn’t … it didn’t feel right,” I answered honestly.

  She nodded like she understood. “It can be difficult to open up to a room of strangers, but it’s amazing how much relief can be found from talking with people who understand what you’re going through. Or people who have cancer and can offer you advice on how to be there for your loved one.”

  “What is it for you?” I asked. “Did you have cancer or was it someone you loved?”

  “I have cancer.” Her smile trembled a little. “I fought breast cancer several years ago, but I just found out that it’s back.”

  Fuck.

  I bowed my head, looking at my feet. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve fought it before. I’ll fight it again.” Elena sighed heavily. “Why did you come today?”

  Why did you do what you did?

  That’s what I really wanted to ask. Instead, I looked at her and let all my confusion and anger blaze out of my eyes. “Something took our power away. Both of us. His and mine.” Not something. Someone. You did. Foster did. Wright. Kramer. You all took his power away. “And it hasn’t come back. I’m powerless to help him, and I think he blames me.” I know he blames me. “I think he feels abandoned …”

  She nodded in understanding. “I can’t tell you whether that’s how your …”

  “Boyfriend,” I offered.

  “How your boyfriend feels. But is it possible you’re projecting? That helplessness is making you feel you’re not doing enough for him?” She edged closer. “All you can do is be there to offer comfort and hold his hand through this, to make sure he knows you’re not going anywhere.”

  I glanced away, wondering if it would be enough. And was I a moron for even considering seeing Jamie through this, hoping I’d get the man I used to love back?

  It was too confusing.

  One minute I didn’t want anything to do with Jamie, and the next I was desperate to find a way to bring him peace again.

  “The others in the group can offer you great insight.” Elena stood, and I followed suit. “Why don’t you come back next week? We’ll be here. Same time.”

  I nodded, muttering my thanks under my breath as I turned to walk out.

  “Hey, I didn’t get your name!” I heard her call after me.

  I didn’t answer. I just kept walking.

  And it wasn’t until I got into my car, I realized I hadn’t asked Elena a thing about her life like I was supposed to.

  My phone beeped just as I was about to pull away. It was a text from Lincoln.

  Can’t wait to see you tonight.

  Just like that, I felt overwhelmed by resentment.

  Jamie was sending me out on a fake date with a cop. I’d lied to get close to Elena Marshall.

  I felt like I was losing myself.

  And was I willing to do that for Jamie, when he didn’t seem to care that my actions over the next few weeks could mark me forever?

  “What do you want, Jane?” I bit out under my breath, my fists squeezing the steering wheel.

  I wanted justice.

  I wanted to know that the people who had hurt my family weren’t getting to live life like they hadn’t inflicted irreparable damage on others.

  I wanted peace for Jamie, and for myself.

  But I didn’t want to lose myself to get it, and now I didn’t know how to turn back.

  I was frustrated. But it was easier to resent Jamie. That resentment simmered as I drove back to Silver Lake.

  27

  JAMIE

  With exposed ducts and pipes, oversized Edison bulbs as light fixtures, and wood and steel furniture, the Italian restaurant had a casual warehouse vibe. Sitting at the bar centered in a room crowded with tables, I had an eyeline to Jane and Lincoln Gaines.

  I hadn’t seen Jane in days. Although she answered my texts, she wouldn’t answer my calls and I was itching to see her. My agent wanted me to sign off on the proof copy of my second manuscript, which provided me with little distraction since Jane was the inspiration for the twisted love story I’d written. Jane was like a hangnail. I could put her to the back of my mind, but the sting remained.

  That’s why I’d been watching for her return from the visit to Elena’s support group. I stood in my doorway, waiting as her footsteps echoed up the stairwell. As soon as she turned the corner and came into view, my skin crackled to life.

  Despite looking a little drawn, Jane was beautiful, as always, as she caught sight of me and continued upstairs without faltering. She drew to a halt. “I didn’t go in.”

  Somehow that didn’t surprise me. And it didn’t bother me. Jane was nothing if not respectful of other people’s pain. “Okay.”

  “I did speak to her.”

  The idea of Jane anywhere near the dangerous bitch agitated me. But I was the bastard who’d asked her to do it. When she relayed she’d learned nothing from her, I told her it didn’t matter. She’d made contact. It was a start.

  Now I was the bastard encouraging her to go on a date with Gaines. If Jane was uncomfortable with it, she’d be gratified to know I was a goddamn mess. The two of them made a striking couple, dressed casually for the relaxed restaurant. They exchanged smiles as they chatted, each one of Jane’s a dagger in my fucking gut.

  When Gaines reached over and touched her hand for the fifth time, I almost aimed my table knife in his direction.

  The plan was for Jane to not overengage in our agenda this evening. Get to know Gaines. Go in stealthy. Ask only a few questions about his job and his partner, Ethan Wright. This would be a slow game, and one I hadn’t thought through.

  There was no way Jane could keep Gaines at bay when it came to sex. At first, sure. But after a few weeks?

  Sex? Touching and kissing was bad enough.

  On what planet did I ever think I could stand by and let Jane do this? And not just because it was eating me alive with jealousy to see her on a date with another man, but because I was swinging her ass out there. She could get hurt. Never mind physically hurt. Jane hated lying to people. This subterfuge must be twisting her up inside.

  “Lincoln’s a nice guy. We shouldn’t do this to him.”

  “You can back out anytime.”

  “No.”

  I thought I could do this. I thought I could use her.

  I couldn’t.

  I sat there stewing over dinner for two hours as I watched Jane and Gaines through the passing bodies of people who came and went at the bar. Fuck this. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I was about to send Jane a text to tell her to end it when I noted Gaines asking for the check.

  Shit.

  I hurried to do the same and had just paid as
Jane and Gaines got up from the table. He put his hand on her lower back to lead her out, and my eyes zeroed in on the spot. I wanted to rip his hand off.

  Seething, I followed them out of the restaurant at a distance and sent Jane a text to tell her to find an excuse to finish up the date. There had to be another way to get to Wright. One that didn’t involve Jane lying to a cop for weeks.

  To keep up the ruse, Jane had taken my Porsche and I was driving her car. Whatever she said to him had him leading her to where she’d parked the sports car a block around the corner from the restaurant. I couldn’t get parked near her. Fucking downtown. It was a miracle she’d found a parking spot this close to the restaurant.

  Keeping my distance, I watched as Gaines suddenly slipped his hand around Jane’s waist and bent to kiss her.

  Not just a peck either.

  No, he went for it.

  And she kissed him back.

  My heart stumbled as I watched her press her palms to Gaines’s chest. Wait, was she kissing him back or pushing him away? Panicked, I made to stride toward them when they suddenly broke apart and she gave the dickhead a shy smile. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, pressed a kiss to her nose, and stepped back.

  Adrenaline shot through me, and I barely had time to turn around and walk away before the cop spotted me. I disappeared around the corner and peeked back to see if Jane was in the Porsche.

  What the hell was that? Why the fuck did she kiss him back?

  What else was she supposed to do? I argued with myself as I marched to Jane’s car.

  By the time I got back to Silver Lake, my Porsche was in my parking space. I drove Jane’s into hers and dashed inside the building. I didn’t know what I expected when I hammered my fist on her apartment door.

  I wanted to kiss her. To make the taste of Lincoln Gaines a distant fucking memory, and I didn’t care what that said about me.

  She called out that the door was open. I strode inside her apartment, slamming the door behind me, and came to an abrupt halt.

  Jane stood in the middle of her living room, and she looked tortured.

  Actually tortured.

  Acid burned in my gut.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out before she could speak. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”