I crash with reality when Jess flips ash off the cigarette, accidentally brushing her hand over mine. Layla and Jess are strikingly similar. Same petite figures, doll-like faces, and full, pouty lips. Frank’s the one to thank for Layla’s hair and eye color, though. And maybe I should’ve thanked the fucker. The combination of dark-brown locks and light gray, almost silver irises is striking. In fact, I couldn’t peel my eyes off hers most of the time, openly staring as she studied or read.
“Why are you looking for her?” Jess asks slowly, every word quieter than the last. She doesn’t trust me. That much is obvious, but I think shewantstotrust me. “Why did she leave?”
“It’s complicated.”
She butts the cigarette in the ashtray and leans back, folding her arms over her chest, her chin nonchalantly raised. “I won’t tell you where to find her if I don’t know why you want her.”
Because I can’t go on without her.
“She was scared and confused that night. She thinks I want to hurt her.”
“Do you?”
My hands ball into tight fists on their own accord. What kind of a stupid fucking question is that? “Do you really have to ask? Frank ordered a hit on her before he died. Anopenhit, Jess. Anyone can try to kill her. And a lot of people will try.” I lean over the table again, a vein on my neck throbbing. “I need to know where she is. I need to find her. I can’t fucking protect her if she’s not with me.”
There’s no trace of pink blush left on her face. The peachy tone of her skin turns ashen, eyes fill with a new batch of salty tears. She reminds me so much of Layla that my immediate reaction is to get up and lock her in my arms.
“He wanted her dead?” she utters, peering from under her thick, black eyelashes at Julij, then at me, and back as if willing either of us to say it’s a sick joke.
I still can’t comprehend Frank’s sheer insanity. There’s no other fitting word to describe the bastard.Insanefits perfectly. Treating his daughter like a puppet was beyond absurd. Fucking ludicrous. Requesting that she gives herself to me was even worse. Fucking grotesque. Not to mention the rape or mutilation he ordered—a testament to his deranged mind. I could easily rip him apart for any one of those sins but ordering a hit on his daughter? Playing God to punish me for insubordination? That’s another level of madness. A level beyond my comprehension.
He should be thankful Layla found the courage in her to kill him, or else I’d skin the fucker alive regardless of her betrayal. I’d bask in his screams, pleas, and apologies. He’d pay for every single time he hurt her. Every threat, every disappointed look, every spiteful word.
“He hated me so much he wanted to sacrifice Layla to leave me with nothing.” I weigh every word. Anger rushes over me, bubbling like red, hot soda water in my veins.
Frankie played on Layla’s insecurities her whole life. He turned the vulnerable little girl I adored when she was a child into a weapon of mass destruction.
And then... ready, aim,fire.
I was hers, whenever and wherever. Prepared and willing to throw the world at her feet, to risk my work and life to protect her. She’s a panacea to the diseases infecting my mind, heart, and soul. Life without her just isn’t worth the trouble. I’ve not been living since she left. Barely surviving. I’m stuck in limbo, tumbling deeper into the land of the mad the longer she’s out of my reach.
And Frankie knew that and then some. He knew what kind of a man I was. One who’d completely lose his wits if the right girl ever came along.
I wait for Jess to decide what her next move should be, whether she’s willing to trust me or not. There’s no doubt in my mind she knows where Layla’s hiding. I don’t harbor the same hatred toward her as I did—and still do despite hisdeceasedstatus—toward Frank. She wasn’t a good mother, she hurt Layla too, but hers and Frank’s sins are incomparable. Jess deserves a chance to right her wrongs. Frank deserves a few bullets fired from my gold revolver.
Surrendering the information I need will mark the first step on Jess’s long road to redemption.
“I’ve got hundreds of people looking for her, Jess,” I say, painfully aware of the ticking clock. “Iwillfind her, but it’ll be faster if you can tell me where she is. We’re working against the clock here.”
She peers up, letting out a loud, shaky sigh. “She’s at Frank’s sister’s in Ivanhoe.”
“Texas?” Julij cuts in, pushing away from the wall.
I almost forgot he was here. He walks closer as an injection of adrenaline jolts his body.
“Yes. Amanda has a farm there. I’ll get you the address.” She up and leaves the kitchen without a backward glance.
For a moment, I can’t believe this is happening. If we obey traffic regulations, we’ll be in Texas inside of fourteen hours. Still, since neither I nor my people give a damn about speeding tickets, the distance is doable in ten hours with breaks for refueling factored into the equation.
Maybe it’d be quicker to fly? A quick search online scraps that idea. The next flight to Dallas leaves at seven in the morning. Flying is not an option. I glance at the watch Layla gave me for Christmas. It’s quarter to eleven. I’ll have her back by nine in the morning. A shockwave of relief detonates in my chest, spreading to all my organs, soothing my jittery unease.
I’m coming, baby. Hold on a little while longer.
Jess comes back with a small notebook in hand. At the same time, Spades enters the kitchen. A sullen look taints his features, and my relief vanishes instantly. There’s no mistaking the torment in his eyes, the expression reserved for relaying the most dreadful news.
He inhales sharply, rubbing his forehead.
“No,” I snarl. “Don’t you fuckingdaresay it.”