a death. I hadn’t lied when I told her that I’d needed to hate her. To a certain extent, I’d always feel like I didn’t deserve her, but I couldn’t hate her anymore just to keep her at a distance.
The relief of knowing she’d never stop loving me was too great.
It was how I imagined it would feel to think someone you loved had passed away, only to discover they were still alive.
At first, I didn’t feel that relief. Instead, the grief I’d felt over losing her, the grief that had made me bitter more than anything else, turned to hurt and betrayal. Realizing my sister was to blame for events that had rocked my life was more than I could handle at that moment.
However, when the shock passed and the relief of having Jane back seeped in, it allowed me time to calm down. To be grateful to have her lying in bed beside me.
All of that stopped me from facing my fears, jumping on a plane, and confronting Lorna. I wanted to cut her out of my life for good.
I wasn’t a perfect man. I wasn’t very good at forgiving. Understatement.
I couldn’t forgive Lorna for taking Jane away, but I still needed to know why.
Slipping out of Jane’s bed that morning, my chest aching with a sweetness it hadn’t felt in a long time, I watched my girl sleep as I dressed. I didn’t understand what pulled us together. I didn’t know what made Jane Doe the only woman who satisfied my heart, body, and soul. I didn’t need to know.
I just had to do what I could to not lose her again.
If that meant cutting Lorna out of my life for fear of her fucking with us, then I’d do it.
Leaving a note for Jane on her pillow, I let myself out of her apartment and took a shower in mine. Once dressed, I sat down on my sofa with my phone in hand. My heart beat a mile a minute.
I dialed Lorna’s number.
And it went straight to voicemail.
Goddamn it!
I hung up, my knee bouncing with agitation.
“Screw it.” I called her again and when it went to voicemail, I stayed on the line. “Lorna, it’s me. I … I know about the letter you gave to Jane. I know what you did. If you love me at all, you’ll tell me why. Because”—I swallowed hard against my hurt and rage—“I don’t get how my sister could do that to me. I—” I hung up because I knew I was about to lose my temper. And I wanted answers. She’d never give them to me if I raged at her.
Pissed that I’d have to wait to talk to her, I called my PI and arranged to meet him at his office in thirty minutes. Burt Wethers was an ex-cop and friend of Irwin Alderidge. Irwin had put me in touch with Burt when I came out to LA to do what needed to be done. He was the guy who taught me about surveillance equipment, and he’s who I bought it from.
I glanced at Jane’s door as I stepped out of mine, resisting the urge to walk on in and climb back into bed with her. As much as I loved her, there was still shit to do, and I couldn’t let myself get lost in her. Not yet.
Thirty minutes later I strode into Wethers’s dismal little downtown office. His AC must have been broken because the place was stifling. Sweat beaded across my skin as Wethers crossed the room to greet me.
He was short, balding, and probably hitting his fifties, but Wethers was also compact and strong, his biceps flexing with the handshake.
“What can I do for you?”
“I need more equipment. For Wright.”
Since Irwin trusted Wethers, I gave the guy some of my trust too. He knew about my plans, and that’s why he’d only do so much for me. As an ex-cop, he knew when the line was being crossed. It didn’t mean he wasn’t on my side. He’d left the force because he saw too much injustice. And he hated dirty fucking cops.
Wethers sighed heavily. “Well, funny you should call this morning because I was about to call you. And it’s about Wright.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground about the people who did this to you, and Wright’s name popped up … with my contact at Internal Affairs.”
I slumped back in the plastic seat he’d offered me, my pulse speeding up.