Black Tangled Heart

by Samantha Young

  I didn’t think Elena Marshall was a bad person. In fact, I had a feeling she was once a good person who had done a very bad thing.

  A weight lifted off my chest as I left her sobbing in her car.

  She had helped destroy Jamie.

  They all had.

  And I had to guide him onto the path back from ruin.

  Jamie wouldn’t look at me.

  He glared at my bookshelves.

  “Jamie, say something.”

  He let out a disgusted huff. “What would you like me to say?”

  “That you understand why I did this.”

  Jamie finally looked at me, those ocean eyes filled with storm. “Well, I don’t.”

  I’d told Jamie about my encounter with Elena. He didn’t take it so well. “Where is the satisfaction in ruining a woman who has nothing left to lose?”

  “You don’t know she has nothing left,” Jamie snapped, standing. He placed his hands on his hips and glowered down at me. “You didn’t even try.”

  “She’s estranged from the one person she cares about. She took the money from Steadman and Kramer to protect her daughter. She got shot when that wasn’t part of the deal. Then he threatened her. She has cancer. Debt up to her eyeballs. And when I told her who she helped put away and why you were put away, that woman broke, Jamie. I watched her break. Someone with a soul wouldn’t care the way she cares about the truth.” I stood, imploring him. “She won’t forgive herself for this, and you and I know a little something about that. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Jamie.” I tried to reach for him, but he pulled away. Shoving down the hurt, I shrugged helplessly. “Look what Lorna’s revenge did to us. Do we really want to be the people who cause that kind of pain?”

  “This isn’t revenge. It’s justice.”

  “No, Jamie. It’s revenge. Justice would be Foster going to jail for raping Skye and framing you. We might never get the latter, but we’ll definitely never get the former. No one will pay for hurting Skye because she’s not here to see that they do. You have to make peace with that, Jamie. We both do. Because hurting these people in other ways will never be the kind of justice we need.”

  I watched him warily as he whirled away from me, marching across the room to stare out the window. He ran his hands through his hair, his knuckles white with tension.

  I waited.

  Finally, he turned to me, gaze searching. “You really believe Elena feels remorse?”

  I nodded, hope rising. “I do.”

  My hope crashed and burned when he cursed under his breath and marched across the room, past me to the door. He strode out of my apartment without another word.

  Fuck.

  In turmoil, I did what I always did—I turned to my art. Setting up fresh vellum on my easel, I sat on the stool and let that part of me take over. To my shock, what came out was a dancer. A leaping dancer. In my mind, she’d been dancing with a sheet of sheer silk, using the movement of the fabric to create beautiful shapes. I’d captured her midair, the silk wrapped around her, tangled in its beauty.

  Hours later, I sat back from the painting, exhausted, drained.

  The dancer was me.

  She was a reminder of the little girl who had longed for the life she’d been promised before her adoptive parents died. How that longing had made her reach for the McKennas. How she’d gotten tangled in their beauty.

  I couldn’t keep making decisions based on what I thought they needed or wanted.

  It had to come from me.

  No matter how much I loved Jamie, or how much I missed Skye.

  Yes, I still wanted Foster Steadman to pay for what he’d done, but I couldn’t be a part of hurting people to get that justice. I couldn’t be part of a revenge plot.

  And I was scared.

  Terrified.

  Because if Jamie couldn’t do the right thing, I knew there was a huge possibility I’d have to let him go again.

  31

  JAMIE

  Standing outside Jane’s apartment, I wanted to be mad.

  After my initial reaction to what she’d told me about her encounter with Elena Marshall, after I’d stormed out on her, I couldn’t get Jane’s voice out of my head. And I wanted to be pissed that I wasn’t pissed at her.

  She was changing the game.

  She was reminding me daily of who I used to be.

  “She’s estranged from the one person she cares about. She took the money from Steadman and Kramer to protect her daughter. She got shot when that wasn’t part of the deal. Then he threatened her. She has cancer. Debt up to her eyeballs. And when I told her who she helped put away and why you were put away, that woman broke, Jamie … hurting these people in other ways will never be the kind of justice we need.”

  “Goddamn you, Jane,” I muttered wearily, letting myself into the apartment with the key she’d given me just that morning. I kicked off my shoes at the door and locked up before wandering through the dark sitting room and into the hall.

  I’d tried to sleep in my own bed, thinking the distance would be good. That maybe it would put things back in perspective, make me focus again.

  That’s when I realized I’d slept every night this past week. All night. With Jane.

  No windows open.

  It scared the utter shit out of me to realize Jane Doe could offer me that kind of peace. I wanted it, but I needed to find it without her too. There had to be a happy medium where my ability to move on with my life wasn’t contingent upon Jane’s presence.

  I decided I could give her what she asked because I could see deep down that she was right. But I couldn’t give it all up for her. Jane knew who I was when she let me back into her life.

  The object of my thoughts and affection was curled up on the bed, facing the opposite wall. Moonlight spilled in through the window where she hadn’t drawn the curtains. The sheets pooled around her waist so I could see the spill of her dark hair across the pillows, her shoulders bare in her tank top.

  My fingers itched to touch her.

  Taking off my jeans, I saw her stiffen and realized she was awake.

  After I pulled off my T-shirt and dropped it on the chair at her dressing table, I climbed into bed beside her. I rolled into her, sliding my arm over her waist, pressing deep into her back until we were as close as we could get.

  She’d tensed up as soon as I touched her, and my heart beat a little harder.

  I shifted her silky hair and pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “I’ll leave Elena Marshall alone,” I promised into the dark.

  Jane melted, pulling away ever so slightly but only to turn in my arms. We relaxed into each other as relief moved through me. She hugged me so tight, burrowing into me.

  I kissed the top of her head, wanting to reassure her but be honest at the same time. “I can’t let Foster Steadman get away with everything, Jane. I can’t walk away until he’s behind bars. I don’t care what he does time for. I just want him there.”

  For a moment, I held my breath, waiting for her to respond.

  Then slowly, she nodded against my chest and tightened her embrace.

  Relief saturated me and my eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion.

  I might not want to need her as much as I did. It might be dangerous. It might be stupid and self-destructive. But it was what it was.

  My soul was connected to hers.

  I doubted I could ever find true peace without Jane by my side.

  I didn’t wake up the next morning the way I preferred, usually with the drowsy awareness that I was lying tangled up in Jane and my body was already hard for her.

  Starting the day coming with her was a pretty fucking great way to start the day.

  So, it was less than ideal to wake to the sound of raised voices filtering into the bedroom. As I became more conscious of it, I realized Jane was arguing with a guy.

  My heart leapt and I pushed off the duvet, rolling out of bed to scramble into my jeans. Not e
ven waiting to throw on a shirt, I marched out into the sitting room.

  Jane and Asher Steadman turned from facing off to look at me.

  What the fuck?

  My fists clenched at my sides as I took a step toward them. “What the hell is going on?”

  Asher didn’t seem as shocked to see me as I’d expect. He frowned at Jane. “Why didn’t you tell me we weren’t alone?”

  “You’re not asking the questions here.”

  That’s my girl. I strode to stand by her side, giving her my support. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He came to apologize since I won’t answer his calls.”

  “Can we not talk like I’m not here?” Asher glanced between us. “So, you and Jamie are back together?”

  Shit. He knew me.

  Jane gaped at him in shock, while I prepared myself for the extremely bad news that Foster Steadman knew I was hanging around.

  “How do you know who he is?” Jane asked, stepping protectively closer to me.

  Asher noted it. “Jane, my father doesn’t know.” He looked at me, all wide-eyed and innocent. I didn’t believe his good-guy bullshit for a second. “He doesn’t know you’re here, and he won’t know. But you have to back off.”

  Oh no, he didn’t.

  Jane grabbed hold of me as I made to step toward the spoiled bastard.

  “Back off?” she huffed, putting herself between us.

  I rested my hands on her shoulders as she continued, “Like you wanted me to when you sabotaged my attempts to take down your dad?”

  Asher nervously licked his lips. “How can you think that I would ever deliberately hurt you? You have to believe in me, Jane, and know that when the time is right, all of this will make sense.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I did.” He took an imploring step toward her. “But I love you.”

  A low growl buried its way out of me before I could stop. “Take another step toward her and I’ll snap your fucking neck.”

  Jane tensed under my hands as Asher eyed me.

  Then something I didn’t quite understand crossed his face. He glanced at Jane, then back at me, and then back to Jane. “You think I don’t care about you … I do. I’d do anything for you.” He shifted his attention to me. “Jane and I were never together. I know you said some pretty horrible things to her when she came to see you two years ago because you thought we were sleeping together. We weren’t. We never will.” He took a deep breath. “I’m asexual. I love Jane very much, but I don’t have sexual feelings for her because I don’t have those feelings at all.”

  Stunned, I slumped. “Why let the tabloids pretend you were dating, then?”

  He looked at Jane and sadness tightened his expression. “Because when I tried to explain it to my mom, she told me I was just a late bloomer. And when I told my dad, he told me I was looking for attention, that I needed to act ‘normal.’ When I tried to push it with them both, Foster beat the shit out of me and called it ‘kicking the heterosexuality into me.’” Asher scoffed. “People aren’t just pricks to homosexuals, Jamie. It’s anyone who sits outside the boundaries of ‘heterosexual normality.’

  “After that, I had to deal with a lot of shit from Foster. A lot of emotional abuse. I also figured out what he’d been doing to women long before Jane came along. I knew, and I know my father needs to be stopped, but when the tabloids put Jane and me together as a couple, Foster stepped off me. It was a relief. It was also a relief to have other friends stop questioning me about sex and dating. Whether they realized it or not, they made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I suffered from a lot of anxiety.”

  His eyes dropped to Jane again, affection bright in them. “Until Jane. She didn’t mind going along with the lie that we were together.”

  My immediate concern was Jane and how I would ever make it up to her for having such little faith in her.

  It would take me a lifetime, which wasn’t exactly a punishment.

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “For Jane. So you can know for certain that she never forgot about you.” He looked at her again. “You know how hard that was for me to trust him with that, so you have to know what I did wasn’t to hurt you.”

  “Okay,” she replied, her voice soft. “Thank you, Asher. I do appreciate it, and you know, as hurt as I am, I love you. Please don’t betray that. You can’t tell Foster about Jamie.”

  “I promise I would never do that.” Asher’s gaze shifted between us. “But you have to promise to do as I say. You have to promise to back off and let me deal with this.”

  No. Fucking. Way. “I can’t do that.”

  Jane tensed beneath my hands again.

  Asher sighed heavily. “Jane, talk some sense into your boyfriend.”

  Then he was gone and the vibe coming off Jane was not good.

  Jesus, hadn’t we sorted this out last night?

  She stepped away to turn and face me. “You heard him.”

  “And I thought we agreed last night that I’d leave Elena out of this. I’ll give you something else. I’ll let Internal Affairs deal with Wright, and even if they don’t come through, I’m gonna let the bastard go. I won’t go after him. But I can’t walk away from Foster Steadman, and you know it.”

  “Jamie, if he finds out you’re here and you’re gunning for him …” Fear darkened her eyes. “I’m terrified that this time, he’ll shut you up for good.”

  “He won’t get away with murder, Jane.”

  She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “Jamie, do you think Skye is the only woman he’s sexually assaulted? From what Asher and I could deduce, he’s been violating women for nearly three decades. How many victims do you think we’re talking about here? And he’s getting away with it. Somehow, he and Kramer would find a way of getting away with shutting you up for good. It doesn’t have to be murder. They could just frame you for it.”

  I chuckled, and it was the wrong thing to do. I knew that when she smacked me in the face with a cushion off her sofa.

  “Jane …” I tried to placate her. “I’m not going to get caught.”

  “I’m not asking you to give up. I’m just asking you to step back for now. Do it for me. Please. It’s the right thing to do. Until things calm down.”

  “What things? Your bestie barges in this morning, doesn’t explain his reasons for making a fool out of you, and suddenly you want me to step back? You knew why I was in LA. You knew exactly who I was when you let me back in. I’m doing this and I will not be manipulated out of it. Fuck!” I was beyond furious at her for making me feel like the bad guy, and I knew if I didn’t get out of there, I’d say something I’d regret.

  I left and took my anger out on the punching bag I’d hung from the ceiling in Sheila’s bedroom.

  32

  JANE

  There was nothing I hated more than leaving a discussion hanging. Jamie storming out in the middle of our disagreement was beyond frustrating. I waited for him to come back, only to hear his apartment door open and close and his footsteps fade downstairs. Hurrying over to the window, I watched him stride with that languid grace toward the Porsche. I sighed, watching him drive out of the lot and disappear down the street.

  Was I pushing Jamie too hard?

  Was I manipulating him?

  I hoped not, but Asher had me jumpy. He wouldn’t explain how he knew who Jamie was, and he wouldn’t explain his reasons for keeping me at bay with his father. As much as I loved Asher and wanted to believe he wouldn’t hurt us, couldn’t Jamie see why I was concerned? The last thing we needed was Foster Steadman finding out Jamie was in LA looking for revenge.

  Searching for distraction, I checked my emails and found a new one from Cassie. For a while, she had been a big part of my life, but neither of us liked social media or talking on the phone. We passed the occasional email. Asher, who had an abundance of acquaintances and less than a handful of close friends, once asked if I ever got lonely. Sometimes I did. However, ne
ver for a large group of friends. The only times I ever felt lonely were when I missed Jamie and what we’d had together. Or when I thought of Skye and our quiet afternoons.

  Or when I had flashes of my life before my adoptive parents died.

  Perhaps it was my disposition to be content with my own company, or perhaps it was just what I was used to.

  I was in the middle of responding to Cassie’s updates when I heard the lock on my front door catch and then turn. Assuming Jamie had returned, I pushed aside my laptop to give him my focus. I was determined to make him see my point of view, but I’d be far subtler about it.

  It wasn’t Jamie who stepped into my apartment.

  It wasn’t Jamie who closed my door and locked it.

  It was Frank Kramer.

  Fear chained me to the couch.

  A man of medium build with broad shoulders, a paunch, and a head of thinning, pepper-speckled dark hair, Frank Kramer wasn’t a particularly intimidating figure. However, one look in his eyes was enough to make me shiver.

  His eyes were the coldest black I’d ever seen.

  “The locks in this building are embarrassingly easy to pick,” he said, taking a step toward me. His heavy boots thudded on my wooden floor, and I finally came unstuck, pushing off the couch.

  “Uh-uh.” Frank stepped toward me, smiling. “Just stay there. No sudden movements.”

  My stomach roiled as I nervously licked my dry lips. Sweat gathered under my arms, and the adrenaline spike his appearance caused made me tremble. “What are you doing here?”

  He considered me. “It comes as no surprise that you recognize me. Do you know why, Jane?”

  I tried not to react to the use of my real name.

  “Because I’m not dumb. And neither is Mr. Steadman.”