Lila and Alexander look at each other, then at Jake, then at me, like they’re having trouble processing all this. I guess those online articles were right. Maybe Jake hasn’t had a guest in a while. Maybe a long while. It’s pretty obvious they weren’t expecting me, or anyone else, to be here with him. Especially not someone dressed in his clothes.
Jake smiles. “My brother is speechless so rarely I must say I’m enjoying this.”
Alexander seems to regain some of his composure. He looks at his brother. Then he shakes his head as he continues unpacking the groceries. “Sugar, I’m very glad to meet you. And I’m glad you’re here. He’s been talking about you non-stop since that night we ate at your restaurant.”
I look at Jake and he smiles, and shrugs. “As soon as I tasted your pie, it was all over.”
Lila walks over and gives me a little hug. “So nice to meet you, Sugar.”
“You too. Nice to meet you both.”
She’s eyeing my bruises. Her eyes are wide and a bright shade of sea-green. “You got hit by your stepfather? That’s so awful.” Something about Lila makes me think she’s seen her own share of hardships. There’s an undercurrent of vulnerability about her. She’s probably around my age, maybe even a little younger. She’s gorgeous in an off-hand kind of way, like she has no idea how beautiful she is.
“Yeah,” I agree. “He’s a real bastard. Luckily I ran into Jake. He saved me.” It sounds melodramatic the way I’ve said it, but it’s true. He did save me.
Jake’s arm tightens around my waist and he’s looking at me with this crazy look on his face. Of such tenderness it almost brings tears to my eyes.
He turns to Alexander. “We need to hire a bodyguard,” he says. “To stand guard outside Sugar’s restaurant when she’s working. I’m going to base myself there and work from there. But if there are times I can’t be there, then someone needs to be on guard. To make sure her stepfather can’t get anywhere near her.”
I start to say, “Jake, it’s really not necessar—”
“Of course it is,” he says. “Look what he did to you. He’ll do it again. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let that happen.”
“There are a couple of guys I use that are very thorough,” Alexander says. “And discrete. No one even has to know she’s being guarded.”
“Good,” Jake says.
I start to tell him that I don’t need a bodyguard, of all things, but he kisses me again. His tongue touches my lips and I forget what I was about to say.
Lila goes to give Alexander a hand with the groceries and before I can make a move to follow her, Jake scoops me into his arms.
“Jake. Put me down. You don’t need to carry me everywhere.”
“In case you still feel woozy.”
“I don’t feel woozy anymore.”
“It’s safer this way,” he says.
Despite my protests, he insists on carrying me to the table, which is located in a glass alcove that looks over the city. Jake sets me down in a plush, cushioned chair in the sun. He pulls up another chair close to mine and sits in it.
“You’ll get used to it, Sugar,” Lila says to me. “They’re control freaks.”
That I would need to get used to anything to do with Jake Wolfe sends a little dart of warmth through my chest that’s difficult to name.
Alexander is watching us. He appears to be highly entertained by the sight of his brother carrying me around. “I hope you two are hungry. I’ve been practicing my culinary skills for the past two weeks. I’m on a roll.”
“He’s actually not bad,” Lila says.
“When I don’t get distracted.” He winks at her. “How about omelettes with bacon and hash browns? It’s my specialty.”
“It’s your specialty because it’s the only thing you know how to cook,” Lila teases him.
Alexander looks hurt. “How can you say that? I cooked other stuff, too.”
She touches his hair, kissing his cheek. “You did, sweetie. You’re a genius at everything you do.”
“I know,” he says. He wraps his arm around her and starts playfully biting her neck until she squeals and pushes him away.
They start cooking and I look over at Jake, who’s watching me. Gazing at me, actually. Kind of like I was gazing at him just a few minutes ago.
“You okay?” he says softly. “Can I get you anything?”
“Maybe some coffee. If you have some.”
“Tea might be easier on your stomach.”
I smile at him. He’s so sweet, so protective. His kindness sometimes seems to clash with the look of him, with his brawny muscles and his badboy tattoos. Something about the combination melts something in me just a little bit more. “I’m more of a coffee girl,” I say. “Black and strong, no sugar.”
Jake kisses me, lightly, right on the lips. I blush again. Alexander and Lila share a meaningful glance and he raises his eyebrows and grins.
Jake ignores them completely. He gets up to make me some coffee.
Lila comes over to sit at the table with me. “How’s the restaurant going?”
“It’s going great. We just keep getting busier and busier.”
“I can see why. Your food is amazing.”
“Thank you. And I can hardly keep up with all the orders we’ve been getting for pies. I’m looking into renting the space across the street, as a bakery.”
“That’s so fantastic, Sugar. Your business must be growing so quickly.”
“Yeah, it’s exciting. But it’ll be a juggling act to begin with, if I can even get the space. It’s available, I just need to come up with the deposit by the end of the month, which I should be able to do if business continues to be this good.”
“I know it’ll be a huge success,” she says. “I’ve seen the write-ups you’ve been getting.”
As Jake sets two cups of coffee down for us, his phone pings. He takes it out to look at it.
“It’s a message from Finn,” he says to Alexander. “He’s been trying to get a hold of you.”
“Yeah, I lost my phone for a while, but got a new one yesterday. I sent him the password for the security cameras last night.”
Jake reads out the text. “It says, ‘You’re going to want to watch this video immediately. Mystery solved. Now we know who hacked your email account.’ Shit, he’s sent me a video of the hacker.”
“Let’s see it,” Alexander picks up the t.v. remote and flicks it on. Jake syncs the message so it starts playing on the big screen.
The video fades in. “It’s my office,” Jake says. We’re all riveted. In the video, the door opens and a shaded figure walks into the office, wearing dark clothes and a hooded sweatshirt. The hacker opens the laptop sitting on the desk. A dark strand of hair escapes the hood of the sweatshirt. Long hair. She pushes the hood back a fraction as she works, typing on the computer, gaining access.
“Holy hell.” Jake stands up to get a closer look. “It’s that chick from the charity dinner.”
“What charity dinner?” asks Alexander.
“One I went to a couple of months ago. She sat next to me. She’s been writing letters to me ever since, but I’ve ignored them.”
“Who is she?”
“I can’t remember her name. Candace, I think it was. No, Camilla. Camille. Yeah, Camille. It’s definitely her.” Jake’s watching the screen. He seems agitated, more upset than I’ve seen him. He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up. “Jesus.”
We all watch as the woman in the video inserts a flashdrive into the laptop.
“Fuck,” says Jake. “So she hasn’t just hacked into my email account but she’s downloaded all my files at the same time.”
“Is she a girlfriend?” asks Alexander.
“No,” Jake says vehemently. He turns to look at me. “There was never anything between me and that girl. I talked to her for about five minutes at a dinner I went to. I wasn’t interested in her. At all. I told her that and walked out. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Okay,” Alexander says, mildly surprised by the fever of Jake’s delivery. “Then why is she hacking your email and downloading your files? And how the fuck did she get into the building in the first place? There are three levels of security to pass through before getting anywhere near the fifteenth floor.”
“I don’t know,” Jake sits down heavily in his chair. He’s holding his hair in one of his fists. I want to unclench it. To kiss him. To tell him not to get so worked up. Everything will be okay, I want to whisper to him. “She’s written a couple of letters – more than a couple. A lot. Almost every day since that night months ago. I’ve read three or four before shredding them. They’re crazy. Obsessed. I never wanted anything to do with her.”
“She’s getting revenge,” says Alexander. “She’s hacked into your computer because you haven’t called her.”
“Fucking hell.”
The video ends and Alexander turns off the t.v. “Who does she work for?”
“I think she said she works for a computer company. She’s a coder or a programmer or something. I can’t remember.”
“She’s obviously some sort of stealth code-breaker. Able to bypass security points and passwords at the drop of a hat.”
“So it would seem,” Jake says, distracted. “All my plans for my new business were in those files. Good ideas. Potentially very lucrative ideas.”
Alexander goes back into the kitchen and starts serving up the food. “Look at the bright side. At least we know who framed you. And we have the evidence to prove it. We’ll be able to clear your name. You’ll be able to get rid of the cuff and you won’t have to spend the next few months within a three-block radius of this building.”
Jake’s phone rings. “It’s Finn.” He looks at me. “Okay if take this one?”
“Of course, Jake. Do whatever you need to do.”
He stands up and answers the call, retreating into an office off the main living area.
“He’ll be okay,” Alexander says to me. “Being blackmailed rubs Jake the wrong way, to put it mildly. But once we get our lawyers on the case, it should be relatively cut and dry.”
Once Jake reappears we’ve finished eating and Alexander has cleaned up the kitchen. Jake doesn’t touch his food.
“I’ll make some phone calls later on,” Alexander tells him. “It’s Sunday morning. Leave it up to me and I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay?”
Jake’s quiet. Lila gives us both a hug. Alexander pats Jake on the back. “Great to meet you, Sugar,” he says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. Jake watches him and Alexander can’t help grinning at his brother – some thing between them I don’t understand the nuances of.
Once they’re gone, I feel so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. I guess the drama of the past few days, not to mention the marathon of hard work over the past six months, has caught up with me.
The shadows under Jake’s eyes look darker. He looks big and mean. All his damages seem more pronounced. Some flare-up of remembered pain clings to him.
“Don’t worry, Jake.” I almost reach up to touch his face, but for some reason I feel wary about touching him when he’s got that look in his eyes. Something about him has shifted. My tender, responsive Jake has been overtaken by the old demons that haunt him, and by new ones, too. This is easy to see. Even so, I don’t feel afraid of him. Just concerned. And affected, as though his pain has lodged itself in me, in my heart. It’s a strange feeling. “Everything will work out just fine, you’ll see. Later, I’m going to go into work and bring you back some apple pie. It always has a way of making everything seem just a little bit better.”
“Don’t leave, okay? I’m going to send a few emails.” He adds, quietly. “Please don’t leave.”
“I won’t, Jake. I might lay here on your couch in the sun for a little while. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is,” he says. Glimpses of that kindness I’ve grown used to shine through, but then they’re gone.
I lay on his couch and he puts a soft blanket over me. In minutes, I’m asleep.
When I wake, I’m in Jake’s bed. It’s dark. Night, lit with the dark purple haze of the city far below. Jake’s here with me. Lying next to me, breathing deeply. I look over at the digital clock on his bedside table. 4:32.
Wow. I must have slept all day and all night. He must have carried me to bed.
Damn. I haven’t talked to Beatrice since yesterday. She’ll be wondering where the hell I am. Then again, she did tell me to take a few days off. I know she’d call if something dire came up at the restaurant.
I turn on my side to face Jake. He’s fast asleep. He’s sleeping on top of the duvet, wearing only his jeans. His face looks peaceful. He looks younger when all that angst has been laid to rest. He looks so beautiful it hurts.
His face is stunning. Dark lashes lay in graceful arcs against his cheeks. His nose has been broken and there are two small scars, one on the bridge of his nose, the other on his cheekbone. My poor Jake, so battered by life. His lips are full and perfect. He hasn’t shaved in a day or two and the stubble of his beard is dark and coarse. His neck is corded and strong-looking. A tiny pulse plays at the base of his throat. His broad, muscular shoulders are decorated with elaborate inked designs. His hair-dusted skin is the color of rosewood. A gold chain hangs around his neck, catching sparked light.
And there, the scars: twelve silver crescents. Permanent reminders of a physical and emotional pain so deep, so dark.
I think about how he groaned when I touched him there. How he kissed my bruises, as though to heal me. I want to heal him, too. I want to smooth away all his pain and replace it with something good.
Very gently, I touch his chest. “Jake?” I whisper. I touch my fingers, feather-light, across his scars.
Jake leaps up, his eyes open but blank, completely empty. Then his hands close around my neck.
The hot wind rattles at the loose iron of the shack’s flimsy roof. Rain plinks onto the iron like tiny marbles. A single candle burns low in its glass jar, my only light. I know how to make sure it won’t catch the place on fire. Keep it right in the middle of the wooden table, Alexander said. He won’t be back til late. He works at the surf shop but I’m not allowed there ever since I knocked over the surfboards. He’ll get fired if I sneak in and hide in the back room like I did last week. I didn’t mean to melt all that wax with the lighter. It was just sitting there. I thought I could help. If he loses his job, he said, we won’t have money to buy food. So I have to stay here.
I ate the macaroni he made me, cold. I’m still hungry.
I’m lonely. We don’t have a t.v. and the batteries for the radio are dead. There’s no phone and no one to call anyway.
A door slams in the distance and the sound makes me jump.
I’m scared.
Alexander, come home. Please come home.
I blow out the candle. Maybe the darkness will hide me.
I know better than to bolt the door. He’ll cut me. Hurt me worse.
I sit in the farthest, darkest corner, on the floor. I’ll kill him, I’ll try.
I wait.
I can hear his footsteps. Swearing. The howl of the wind.
The door flies open, banging loud.
I try to make myself small and invisible. I try so hard to disappear. To sink through the floor, to obliterate into a black hole that never ends.
“Come here, boy.”
I don’t answer. Maybe he won’t find me. I’m in the corner, in the dark.
A glint of light flashes off the blade of his knife.
No.
He finds me.
No.
Pulls my arm.
No.
Touches my chest.
The rage rises and overflows. I lash out, gripping with my hands.
Instantly, I know something’s wrong. I can feel the terror f
all away as reality shifts. As sleep fades out and I realize I’m a million miles from that dank little beach shack and those horrific dark nights.
My grasp loosens. My eyes focus.
Sugar.
My hands drop away, scalded by what I’ve just done.
I swore I would never hurt her, and now I have.
“I’m sorry,” I start to gasp. “I’m so sorry.”
The blue of her eyes is dark. There’s fear there, and sadness, which kills me more than I can handle. I pull away. I pace the floor. I grab my hair in my fists and sit down on the floor against the far wall. If I could cry I would but my tears dried up a long time ago, forged by the fury that never quite leaves me.
Her wavy hair catches all the light in the dim room. She is quite simply the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen or imagined. I can still make out the bruises on her face and neck. You bastard. You’re no better than he is. You’re the one she needs protection from, you fucked-up freak. To shield her from you and all your goddamn baggage.
She gets up off the bed. I expect her to walk out, to distance herself as much as she can from me and my lunatic tendencies. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to her, somehow. I don’t know how, but I will. Even though I’ve ruined everything. I’ve destroyed the best thing that’s ever happened to me, just like I’ve destroyed everything else. I don’t know why I expected this to be different. I don’t know why I thought I might be capable of redemption. I always knew I was a lost cause.
She doesn’t walk out.
She comes closer. She sits next to me on the floor.
“It’s not your fault, Jake,” she says in her angel’s voice. “You didn’t hurt me. You woke up in time. You could never hurt me, I know that.”
I can barely speak. “I almost strangled you. How can you say that?”
“You didn’t strangle me. Your hands fell away practically before you even touched me. You wouldn’t have hurt me, I know it. I should have been more careful with you. You told me what happened. I should have made sure you knew it was me before I touched you like that.”
JAKE Page 9
