“I’m not jealous,” Elliot shoots back, still seemingly reluctant to sit down anywhere near Jase.
“Dude, you are so fucking jealous,” Jase says. “Don’t worry. I haven’t touched her. My dad has, though.” He glares at me and something painful socks me in the chest as I try to put myself in his shoes.
I am so screwed up.
“So,” Jase says, propping his feet on the coffee table. “You’re a cop, huh?”
“Ex-cop,” Elliot bites back, hovering at the opposite end of the couch.
“Right,” Jase sneers, obviously not believing him. “Whatever. What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
Elliot’s fists squeeze tight. “El,” I say softly, a warning and a plea in one.
“I’m making sure you’re not killing my girl.”
Jase laughs bitterly, looking at me. “So he is your boyfriend.”
Irritated, I stare at Elliot. “Ex,” I say forcefully. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”
“Huh,” Jase replies. “Did he think you were dead for six years, too? Or is that a special hell reserved just for me?”
That pain again, squeezing at my chest like a viper around my cold, dead heart. Oh, Jesus. This is so hard. Jase’s face is full of anger and hurt and I just want to take it all away, but I can’t.
I just seem to make it worse.
“I’m the one who saved her from your fucked-up family,” Elliot interjects forcefully, staring Jase down. Jase rises from his spot on the couch and the two face off, fists curled tight, eyes burning.
“Couldn’t stop her from coming back, though, could you, lover boy?” Jase retorts. They’re rapidly closing the gap between them, pulled together by some magnetic rage that is commanding them to take each other’s heads off.
“Stop!” I scream.
They both look at me like they’ve momentarily forgotten that I’m here.
“Please,” I implore. “Please can we just talk instead of all of this macho crap?”
Jase cocks an eyebrow but takes a step back from Elliot. “You’ve just killed four people, and now you want to sit down and talk?”
“Guy has a point,” Elliot says, rubbing his jaw. “You’re kind of bossy.”
“Extremely bossy,” Jase agrees, taking up his spot on the couch.
“Well,” I say sarcastically, a fake smile plastered onto my face. “Aren’t you two just best friends all of a sudden?”
Elliot laughs bitterly and perches on the other end of the couch, on the arm, as far away as he can get from Jase yet still technically sitting down. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead park my butt on the coffee table, my feet resting on the edge of the couch. I’m facing both of them, and this way, I’ll be able to shove myself in between them if another pissing contest gets out of hand. They’re both still clearly on high alert, but at least they aren’t throwing punches. For now.
I bite my lip as I stare at the back of the couch, trying to think of the best tack to take.
“You’re awfully quiet for a girl who wants to talk,” Jase says.
I swivel my gaze to him. “Just trying to find the right words, is all.”
“How’d you know it was her?” Elliot asks Jase suddenly, talking straight past me as if I don’t exist.
“You got a phone call,” I say suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Who was it? Do they know who I am?”
Jase puts his hands out in front of him, clearly annoyed by the barrage of questions. “Whoa. You’ve been dead for six years, and now you’re back fucking my dad, and you’re interrogating me?”
I slump again. He’s right.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“I had a friend look into some things. Into you, actually,” he says, looking at Elliot. “The trail led to that night at the hospital where Juliette supposedly died.”
Elliot’s eyebrows rise impossibly high. “So, based on that, you figured out who she was? That seems like a pretty fucking big leap.”
Jase’s jaw tightens and he appears to be gathering his thoughts.
“I didn’t mean to look,” he says, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. He ignores Elliot and instead addresses me directly. “That night when my dad … stabbed you.”
Elliot sucks in a loud breath when Jase says stabbed and I hold my index finger up to him, motioning him to stay silent. He still doesn’t know about that night when Dornan tied me up and stuck his face between my legs before deciding to plunge a knife into my thigh.
Well. He does now.
“You were … hurt,” Jase continues, “and your clothes had blood all over them. I swear, I wasn’t trying to find anything … but I saw your tattoo … and for a second there, I thought I saw what it was hiding.”
Of course. My scars. I’ll never be rid of them.
“It was just a second, you know?” Jase says, his voice close to breaking. “I told myself it was nothing. That I was just imagining things. You were dead! And you don’t look like you. I made myself forget about it. And then when I got that call … I had to look again. I had to know.”
His face is lined with our horrid past. “You’ve been right under my nose this whole time.”
I don’t know how much longer I can hold myself together. I’m cracking, breaking under my deceit. What does he think of me?
God, he must hate me so much for the things I’ve done.
Elliot breaks the thick tension by adding some more of his own.
“She’s been under your nose for a few months. Your father and your brothers? They’ve been under your nose for six fucking years. And you haven’t tried to get away? You haven’t tried to kill any of them? After what they did to her? After what they put inside her?”
Jase’s face pales at the same time that my head whips around, my pleading gaze meeting Elliot’s. “El, don’t,” I say, panic bubbling up into my throat. “Not that.”
Elliot stands. “I held her hand while they fucking raped her all over again!” He’s got tears in his eyes and Jase is staring at us with his mouth open, gasping like a goldfish.
“What is he saying, Julz?” Jase says, his skin suddenly the color of a sack of flour. Drained, devoid of any color, warmth or energy.
“She was fucking pregnant because of what they did!” Elliot yells, pointing at me while he addresses Jase.
Jase chokes a little, his eyes bulging. “Julz, talk to me. I don’t want him telling me this shit. Talk to me.”
I shrug, the weight of the cold gun heavy in my hand. “What do you want me to say?” I ask softly. “He’s not lying. It happened. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jase mumbles in disbelief, echoing my words. “Of course it matters. I asked you to tell me everything. What else haven’t you told me?”
And now you’re back fucking my dad.
“Nothing,” I say numbly. “I was pregnant, I had an abortion. And then I wasn’t pregnant anymore.”
Jase covers his face with his hands; he’s shaking with rage.
“It was a long time ago,” I say softly. “There’s nothing you could have done about it.”
I watch, fascinated and sick, as Jase reaches for a vase on the coffee table and throws it as hard as he can at the wall, where it shatters into a million tiny pieces that rain down onto the sofa.
Elliot and I both jump at the same time as the vase impacts the wall, but Jase is oblivious. He’s so upset. He’s shaking. Violently. He looks like The Incredible Hulk right before he hulks out, and I hope he doesn’t keep hulk-smashing everything in sight.
I turn so I can keep one eye on Jase and one eye on El.
“You didn’t have to bring that up,” I mutter, my tone like a sulky child. “That was low, Elliot.”
“Shut up,” Elliot says loudly, and I’m taken aback. I don’t think he’s ever told me to shut up. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Juliette. You want him on your side? Fine. But that’s his father. His brothers. You’d better make damn sure you convince him how much they deserve to suffer.
You think he’s on your side? Who’s to say he isn’t about to call them right now and tell them the truth?”
Jase seems to grow taller, his entire body tightly coiled and ready to strike. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he yells, storming Elliot. Elliot holds his ground so that the two face off, centimeters separating their contorted faces. I take a step back, overwhelmed by the two men in front of me. It’s frightening how much they both mean to me. And all they want to do is destroy each other.
That damn pain again, crushing my heart with its vice-like grip. I can’t bear it much more. For a moment I wish I didn’t feel anything for them, because it would be easier that way—but then I really, truly would have nobody on the planet. I’d be completely alone.
They’re both yelling, a tense exchange, and that familiar ring starts in my ears again. Just make it stop. I’m so tired.
A hand clamps onto my shoulders, Elliot’s hand, and he shakes me slightly as he points to Jase. “You can’t trust these people! They tried to kill you, Julz!”
I stare daggers at Elliot and open my mouth to reply, but Jase gets in first.
“I tried to save her,” he growls, his index finger jabbing into Elliot’s chest. “You weren’t there. What do you know?”
Elliot sneers, looking from Jase to me. “He’s Dornan’s son,” he spits, knocking Jase’s hand away from his chest with a swipe of his own hand.
Jase roars, tackling Elliot to the ground, where the two grapple and fight to overpower each other. Jase straddles Elliot and punches him square in the nose, and Elliot responds by somehow reaching up and getting Jase in some sort of reverse headlock that I can’t quite figure out. They’re pretty evenly matched in height, strength, technique—and anger.
And love for me, I realize sadly.
“You’ve got Dornan’s blood in your veins,” Elliot taunts Jase, as the two grapple. Elliot lands a punch on Jase’s cheek, and Jase follows that up with a swift chop to Elliot’s throat that leaves him gasping and choking for air.
“Stop,” I plead, standing over the two of them as Elliot again manages to overpower Jase momentarily, sitting on his chest and giving him another hit to the face. Jase’s face is cut and bleeding, which only spurs Elliot further.
“Elliot!” I scream, grabbing at his arms as he continues to pummel Jase, who by now is starting to slow. Elliot’s hits are becoming sloppy and unfocused, his only aim to make Jase’s face look like hamburger meat.
I take a step back and charge forward, all of my weight focused on my hands. I lunge for Elliot, aiming to knock him off Jase or at least get in between the two before he beats him to death.
It works, even though I’m probably half his weight and size. Determination and gravity work in my favor, and soon I’m straddling him. I hit my knee on the side of the glass coffee table as we both fall awkwardly between the sofa and the table, and it makes my eyes water.
Oh well. At least my face doesn’t look like a scalpel attacked it.
I’m kind of surprised, to be honest, that Elliot overpowered Jase. I always imagined it’d be the other way around. That El would be too nice and would hold back his full strength in a fight like that. Obviously not. He gave everything for me back then and he’s just given it all again here, tonight.
He sits up, clearly displeased, a hand curled tightly around each of my arms as he tosses me sideways off him and onto the couch. He staggers to his feet, just in time for both of us to hear the deafening click of a gun being cocked. Fuck.
Jase stands before us, his arm shaking, his face almost unrecognizable. One eye is swollen half shut, there’s blood coming from his nose, and the entire left side of his face is littered with cuts and swelling.
Oh yeah, and that shaking arm leads to a hand, holding a gun. The gun I was in charge of. Double fuck.
“Get up,” Jase commands, and Elliot rises to his feet swiftly, keeping his hands in full view.
“Really? You’re pointing that at my dick?” Elliot’s voice is still taunting and bitter, even when he’s in danger of being shot.
“Put the gun down,” I say to Jase, wriggling to the edge of the couch, where I stand, planting myself firmly between the two again. Jase ignores my request, instead aiming over my shoulder, at Elliot’s head.
“Jason!” I yell, trying to make eye contact with him. He remains steadfastly locked on Elliot’s forehead, the two shooting each other daggers so poisonous, that if looks could kill they’d both be dead already.
“Don’t aim at his head!” I yell, the words coming out wrong. Jase sneers, blood smeared across his teeth. A horrible shiver passes from the top of my spine to the soles of my feet as an image of Dornan biting my breast and drawing blood swims in my vision.
“If you move out of the way, I’ll point it back at his dick,” Jase offers sarcastically. “Your call.”
I stay put.
Jase shakes his head. “You don’t come into my house and tell me whose son I am. I’m NOTHING like that motherfucker.”
“What I want to know is why haven’t you killed him yet?” Elliot’s acting like he has the upper hand, when he’s the one who’s about to get his brains painted all over the wall behind him. Jase’s expression drops when he hears Elliot’s question.
“It’s none of your business,” he says through clenched teeth. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m the guy who saved the girl. The girl who would have died if it was left up to you,” Elliot spits, and I feel like I’ve been punched.
“Elliot!” I yell, rounding on him.
“Get out of my house,” Jase says, deathly calm. Too calm. “I won’t tell you again.”
Elliot throws a disgusted glance at Jase. “His brothers were waiting in the hospital corridor to murder you, Juliette. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember!” I snap, tears filling my eyes. A rock forms in my throat that hurts to talk around.
“We need to leave,” Elliot says, taking my wrist. To the surprise of all three of us, I snatch it away. “Julz!”
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving, El. I’m sorry.”
The shock on his face is outweighed by the hurt. His cocky sneer falls away, replaced by a look of absolute heartbreak that makes me wish for the sneer again.
“Julz,” he pleads, gentler this time. His eyes wide, imploring me. I sob as he draws me close to him, tilting my chin so I’m looking up into his stricken face. “Don’t do this. Don’t go back to this life you fought so hard to flee.”
Love fights a bloody duel within my heart, and I’m torn between darkness and light, the pain a real and living thing. I shake my head, rising onto my tiptoes to brush my lips against Elliot’s smooth, but battered cheek. Then I push him away, even as the places he was touching me burn without his contact. Even as I know that he might not forgive me for this.
“Go,” I say, motioning to the front door.
He doesn’t move.
“Go!” I yell, more forcefully this time. I’ve broken his heart for real this time, I can tell. His eyes tell me everything: his sorrow, his pain, his rage. All there for me to behold.
Finally, he seems to come to a snap decision. He pushes past me, stopping briefly to grab his unloaded revolver and magazine from the coffee table. He shoves both into his pocket and then corners Jase, who doesn’t seem to mind being cornered, since he’s the one with the gun that works.
“I’m watching you,” he says menacingly, one finger pointed at Jase’s bloodied face.
Jase grins. “I’ve already been watching you,” he replies. “Next time you come into my house, you’re a dead man.”
Elliot storms out, slamming the door behind him for good measure. As soon as he’s gone, I start to panic.
Oh my God. What have I done? I just sent him away after everything we’ve been through? What kind of horrible, selfish bitch does that make me? He saved my life. He gave up his life and his career so that I’d be safe, and he came here tonight thinking that I was in da
nger … and all I did was hurt him even more and send him away?
It’s not right. It’s beyond wrong. I rush to the kitchen and grab my iPhone in one hand, the battery in the other, trying to stick the battery back in so I can call El and make sure he’s all right. I briefly consider following him, but I also can’t leave Jase here alone, his face completely messed up and with the weight of my secrets weighing upon him.
Torn between these two men. Six years, and nothing has changed, except now they both know I’m alive instead of one thinking I’m dead.
I’m fumbling with the stupid phone when I hear Jase behind me. I turn to face him, dropping the phone and rushing to him as he sways on his feet.
I wonder how long it’s been since he slept. Since he ate. He’s always asking about me, worrying about me eating and resting and if I’m hurt, and I just keep taking and taking without giving anything back. I loathe myself for it.
“Six years,” he says sadly, his dark brown eyes glassy and bloodshot, one half concealed by a swollen eyelid. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you call me?”
I don’t have an answer, except the one I carry with me everywhere. My answer to everything.
“I was afraid.”
He shrugs me off and hauls himself over to the refrigerator, yanking the freezer door open. He takes something out and kicks the door with his black boot. As it swings shut I glimpse a bag of peas in one of his hands, a bottle of vodka in the other.
I continue watching as he takes two steps and leans his back against the counter, sliding down to end up in a sitting position on the floor below the sink. I tilt my head, unable to take my eyes away from him, when I spy the roll of paper towels on the counter.
Yes. I should clean his face up. He’d do that for me. He’s done it for me plenty of times.
I step over and grab the roll of paper towels, stopping in front of where Jase is sitting, blocking me from the sink. I lean across the bench, wetting a thick wad of paper napkin, and then drop to my haunches beside him.
He’s not really paying attention to me, with the bag of peas obscuring his vision in one eye, and the other firmly planted on the vodka in his hand. So when I press the cold, wet towel to his cheek, he jerks back, dropping the peas into his lap.
Gypsy Brothers: The Complete Series Page 29
