Young Enough (The Age Between Us Book 2)

by Charmaine Pauls

  I feel Evan’s rage. It’s coursing through my body, defrosting the ice in my veins and turning my blood to boiling. I’ll finish what Evan didn’t, breaking that coward’s neck.

  She gives a sad shake of her head. “I don’t know if Benjamin did it to spite Evan or because he didn’t want Evan to have her if he couldn’t. Maybe he thought in his warped state of mind he’d convince her there was an attraction between them. Whatever the case, the damage was done. Evan said he needed to get out of there to clear his head, or he’d kill Benjamin. We were all so focused on the fight between Evan and Benjamin, we forgot about the real victim. Jane. I’ll never forget that picture, how she sat motionless in bed, clutching a sheet to her naked chest. She said she couldn’t remember anything.”

  My hands shake under the desk. I have to wring them together not to punch something.

  “My husband took Benjamin to clean up the blood and bruises while I took care of Jane. Evan and Jane had been dating for a while. She was on birth control, so I wasn’t worried about pregnancy. I…” She blinks several times. “I begged her not to lay charges. The implications… I said the beating Benjamin had taken had been enough of a punishment. Jane was more preoccupied with Evan than justice. We waited for hours for him to return, but it was a police officer who knocked on the door.” Her expression is haunted. “The rest you can guess. I had lost one son. I wasn’t prepared to lose both. I asked Jane not to go to the police. Instead, she took the blame. She said they had a fight before Evan left in a fury, and the media jumped on the opportunity to brand her as the scapegoat for getting her fiancé killed. She loved Evan too much to let Benjamin’s sins soil his name. She loved me enough to let me keep a son who did something unspeakable to her and his brother. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel the weight of that guilt on my shoulders.”

  “If you feel so guilty,” I snarl, “why didn’t you tell the truth?”

  “Jane was devastated when we got the awful news. The doctor had to give her tranquilizers to calm her. I was busy with the funeral arrangements. My husband and I didn’t want to drag it out, we just wanted it over. Jane went back to the dorm. Francois was a student at the same university Jane attended. When she was at her most vulnerable, he took advantage. Four weeks later, Jane discovered she was pregnant.”

  My breath slams into my ribs as the meaning penetrates my mind.

  “The doctor said the tranquilizers probably interfered with the oral birth control. In cases of severe emotional shock, it’s also not unknown for oral contraceptives to be ineffective. It was the last thing we expected. She decided to keep the baby, and Francois married her. She dropped out of university to have Abby, and to pay the bills when Francois was still studying. Babies are expensive, and she was too proud to accept my help. She said it would’ve felt like a bribe.”

  My tongue is tied. I can’t wrap my head around the facts that are spinning around my brain faster than a spindle. Swallowing to wet my dry throat, I force out the question burning foremost in my mind. “Who’s Abby’s father?”

  “It’s not Francois. He did a test and got the results this morning.”

  Comprehension dawns. “It’s Evan or Benjamin.”

  “When Abby made accusations about you, Francois wanted to sue for full custody. Jane will always fight tooth and nail for her daughter. No sacrifice is big enough. That’s why she insisted Francois took a paternity test. I was with her when she confronted him. Abby overheard the conversation and demanded to know who her biological father is. Jane came to the house to ask Benjamin for a paternity test. By law, she can’t force him to take one, unless she tells the truth about what happened.”

  “He’s using the photos to blackmail her into keeping her mouth shut.”

  “He’s trying to protect his family and career.”

  My anger escalates again. I’m on the verge of exploding. “Are you protecting him?”

  “Not any longer. Not when I found these.” She points at the damnable photos. “I was making tea, and when I got back, Jane was gone. It’s not like her to pick up and leave like that. I knew something was wrong. I threatened Benjamin with telling the truth myself until he showed me the photos and told me what he’d done. My son knows me. I don’t make threats lightly. That’s why I’m going to ask you one last time what Benjamin paid you to get these photos. I’ll double the offer, and then I need you to destroy each and every one, or I swear to God I’ll destroy you.”

  Jesus Christ. Jane thinks I betrayed her. In a way, I did, but not like she thinks. “I told you. He paid me nothing. He made an offer, but I didn’t accept. Meeting Jane was a consequence of that offer, but that’s where it ended.”

  “Then how do you explain the photos?”

  “I can’t, but I will. I’ll find out, if it’s the last thing I do.” I jump up and push the envelope into the back of my waistband. “Where’s Jane? I need to speak to her. I need to explain.” Urgency runs through my blood. I need to get to Jane.

  “I don’t know. I was hoping you would.”

  “I’ll find her,” I say as I rush past her.

  She grips my arm. “She’s in a fragile state. You have no idea how much Jane has lost in the short span of a few months. Her husband, her home, her daughter, her job, her best friend…”

  “Loretta?”

  “With the charges Francois wants to lay against you, Loretta and Ralph decided they couldn’t be associated with Jane.”

  Those fuckers. The jealous bastards weren’t Jane’s friends, anyway. No loss there, if you ask me.

  “Do you have feelings for her?” Dorothy asks. “And you better not lie to me.”

  “Yes.” The word is heavy. Final.

  Slowly, she releases her hold. “I don’t know why, but I believe you. Maybe it’s because you erased the pain Evan left. Will you call me when you find her?”

  “Give me your number.”

  I program her number in my phone and call my mom to ask if Jane had gone looking for me at the house. From how I know her, she’d want answers, and then she’d kick my balls in.

  There’s no time to waste. I’ll find Jane. I’ll explain. I’ll beg. Then I’ll deal with Benjamin James. I made him a promise, and I don’t break my promises.

  Jane

  Debbie’s expression is shocked when she opens the door. I don’t know if it’s my face or how I push past her into the house without waiting to be invited, but she backs away, her eyes huge.

  “Abby fell asleep in front of the television.”

  “I’m not here for Abby. Not yet.” I walk down the hallway to the master bedroom.

  She runs after me. “Where are you going?”

  I jerk open the door and assess the space.

  “Francois’ playing golf,” she says, her voice alarmed.

  “I’m not looking for Francois.”

  From the angle of the photos, they were taken facing the bed. I scan the wall. There’s a painting, a dresser with a vase, and an air vent. Dragging the chair from the dresser against the wall, I climb on top for a better view. Sure as hell, there’s a red light in the ventilation hole. Son of a bitch. The security equipment. Brian installed it all. He had keys to the house. He knew the code to the alarm. I let the hurt convert to anger. Right now, anger will get me farther, or I’ll curl up in a ball of agony.

  “Jane, what are you doing?”

  “I’ll be back for Abby later.”

  I walk out of the house and get back into my car. The keys rattle in my hand when I turn the ignition. My phone rings. I glance at the screen.

  Brian.

  Rejecting the call, I drive to his house. I hope he isn’t there.

  Jasmine opens the door, clearly surprised to see me.

  “Where’s Sam?” I ask cautiously. I don’t want her to witness this.

  “At a friend’s house.”

  “Is Brian in the cellar?”

  “He’s at work.”

  I hold out my palm. “Give me the keys to the cellar.”


  “What do you–?”

  “You heard me. The keys. Now.”

  I practically bulldoze her to the kitchen. Too flabbergasted to protest, she takes a set of keys from a hook on the wall and hands them to me.

  “Thank you.”

  Leaving through the back door, I half-run, half-stumble to the cellar. I lift the heavy trap door and let it fall open with a thud. Unlocking the grid, I flick on the light and let myself down the stairs. I’m shivering with cold rage. I start with the books neatly stacked on the shelf, knocking them all down. I feel under the shelf and behind the flat screen mounted on the wall. I rip the cushions from the sofa and turn the sofa upside-down. I scatter the electronic equipment organized in boxes over the floor. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but if there’s evidence that Brian did something too unspeakable to voice, I’ll find it.

  I grab the remote and push on every button, switching on the television and flipping only the legal cable stations. I open Brian’s laptop, but it’s locked with a password. I try everything from Sam’s name to his birthdate, and finally my own, but nothing works. He’s got a camera feed on me. I know it. I feel it in my gut.

  Gritting my teeth in frustration, I give up on the electronics and start looking for photos. I pick up every fallen book and fan the pages. Nothing. My gaze falls on the book on the coffee table, the one he last used for studying. Expecting to find the same–nothing–I stretch the spine and shake it upside-down. Something falls from the back, fluttering to the floor. Dropping the book, I snatch up the picture, and then I freeze.

  My stomach drops. My shoulders shake. I clamp a hand over my mouth. It’s a photo of me at a product launch. I know, because I’ve only worn that dress for that one event and never after. I know, because I’m standing outside the exhibition hall we rented. It was exactly one month before I met Brian.

  The photo trembles in my hand as I stare at it, willing it not to be, but it’s real. The evidence is incriminating. It’s devastating.

  “Jane!”

  I jerk my head up toward the door. Brian’s face hovers over the hole. His gaze flitters over the destruction around me, and then zones in on my face. His expression is guarded, which tells me everything the photo has already told me.

  Slowly, he descends, as if he’s stalking a bird that can fly away at any moment. He doesn’t speak. He stops in front of me, every muscle locked tight, and waits. No apology. No admittance. He’s waiting for me to make the first move.

  I fist my hands at my sides. I don’t want to show him how much he’s hurt me, but I can’t keep the agony from sounding in my voice. “You lied to me.”

  The familiarity of his intense gaze as it bores into mine kills me.

  “I never lied to you, princess.”

  “Don’t you dare call me that.”

  “I never lied to you, Jane.”

  “No? Then answer my question. Tell me the truth. I don’t want explanations, only yes or no. Did you plant cameras in my house?”

  “Only for security.”

  “I said yes or no,” I grit out. I don’t want excuses or justifications. I just want the naked truth, cut down to the bone.

  He clenches his jaw. “Yes.”

  I let the truth slice me, allow the pain to sink in and burn. I need this if I’m to sever him from my life. It’s like cutting off my arm, but I’d rather live without him than with lies.

  Steeling myself, I ask on a whisper, “Did you film me?”

  His jaw moves from side to side. A muscle ticks above the joint. “Yes.”

  “Show me.”

  “Jane–”

  “Show me.”

  I want the full lash of the betrayal. I don’t want him to spare me. It needs to ache enough to set me free from him.

  With a slump in his shoulders, he types a password on his keyboard, letting me see it. An image of me cooking in the kitchen flicks to life on the screen. It’s from not so long ago, when I was preparing the cottage pie. He pushes a button on the television remote and the same image fills the big screen. There’s no sound, only the sickening clear color movie of stolen moments.

  “Was swimming in my pool by accident?”

  “No,” he says, his face tight.

  Damn, it hurts hearing him admit it was a set-up all along. I take the envelope from my bag and empty it on the coffee table. “Did you give Benjamin these?”

  His nostrils flare. “No.”

  “Do you work for Benjamin?”

  “No, dammit.”

  I push the photo I found in the book in his face. “Then explain this.”

  “He gave it to me.”

  “Did he offer you money?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much?”

  “I didn’t take it.”

  “How much, Brian?”

  He remains stubbornly silent.

  “Why, Brian? Why you? Are you a gigolo?” My laugh is wry. “Boy, you sure had me fooled.”

  “It’s real, Jane. Every second of it.”

  “Everything is a lie! Us is a lie.”

  “We’re real.”

  “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

  He reaches for me. “I know it’s hard for you to trust me right now, but you have to let me explain.”

  I backtrack before he can touch me. “I don’t have to listen to anything. Did you know he was going to blackmail me?”

  “He told me it was revenge.”

  “For what?”

  A pained look filters into his eyes. “For cheating on his brother.”

  “God.” I let the soft laugh of hysteria escape. What a work of art. Revenging my cheating with him on Evan. “Is that what your scam was all about? Revenge? I suppose you had it all planned–the raunchy sex, the cottage in the middle of snake valley, my job, my daughter?”

  “Don’t.” His eyes turn hard. “I know you’re hurting, but don’t accuse me of things I’d never do to you.”

  “I’m done.” I pick up my bag and throw the strap over my shoulder.

  He grabs my wrist as I pass. “We’re going to talk about this. We have an agreement, Jane. We said we’d always talk.”

  “There’s nothing left to talk about.”

  “I’m not giving you a choice.”

  “I do have a choice. It’s walking out that door.”

  His phone rings with the ringtone he uses for Sam.

  “Fuck.”

  I’m trying to twist out of his grip, but he doesn’t release me as he fishes his phone from his pocket and answers. He listens in strained silence, uttering a string of swear words before saying, “Stay where you are. I’m coming for you.”

  I jerk on his hold. “Let me go.”

  “So that you can walk away?”

  “I don’t ever want to see you again. When I walk through that door, we’re done. Do you hear me? You don’t come near me again. I’ll get the restraining order Francois wanted.”

  Something like desperation filters into his eyes. Where the brown-amber hue always seemed warm, it now glitters cold. “I’m sorry.” Regret infuses his tone. “There’s too much at stake to simply let you go. I love you too much.”

  “Don’t you dare say that to me!”

  Not letting go, he uses one hand to flip the sofa upright.

  “What are you doing?” I shriek when he pushes me down on the sofa, restraining me with the weight of his body.

  Locking his fingers around my wrists, he lifts my arms above my head and slams something around them. It locks with a soft click. I jerk my face up. I’m restrained in broad leather cuffs that are fixed to the wall.

  “I had something more kinky in mind when I installed these.” He plucks on the cuffs, testing their hold, and runs a finger along the inside of one. “Not too tight, but you won’t be able to pull your hands free, so don’t try. I don’t want you to chafe your skin.”

  “You’re insane.” I try to knee him, but his weight is as effective a constraint as the cuffs.

  “Where you’re conce
rned, I guess I am.”

  Running his palms down my arms, he pushes to his feet, easily avoiding the kick I’m aiming at his knee.

  “Release me, Brian.”

  “I’m going to get Sam.” He picks up the throw from the floor and drapes it over my legs. “I’ll be back in two hours.”

  “You can’t leave me like this.”

  He’s already backing up to the stairs. “I’m not letting you go before we’ve talked.”

  “Brian, please.” He won’t don’t it. It’s a sick joke.

  “Try to relax,” he instructs sternly. “If it gets too claustrophobic, focus on your breathing. You’re going to be fine.”

  “I beg you, don’t.”

  “Sorry, princess.”

  “Brian,” I scream in anger.

  “I’ll leave the hatch open for air.”

  “Brian, come back,” I yell as he climbs up the stairs.

  My begging is to no avail. He drops the security gate in place and locks it.

  It seems as if his voice comes from far, as if I’m Alice in the rabbit hole and he’s already light-years away. “I’m locking you in so no one can get to you. You’ll be safe.”

  “If you’re locking me in you can free my hands.” I’m close to sobbing, but keeping it in. I won’t show him how scared I am. What he’s doing is only making matters worse. Being held against my will adds to my humiliation and pain.

  “I can’t risk you calling someone, and I don’t have time to remove every electronic device down there. I’ll be back before dark.”

  His face disappears from my vision.

  He did it.

  He’s keeping me against my will.

  Brian

  Shit. Shit.

  Of all the days in the year, Sam’s so-called friends had to pull a stunt on her today. I’ll wring those little bitches’ necks when I get there. I set the phone on hands-free and dial Sam’s number. She’s still crying.