She noted that he referred to his father as Bannaconni, never as Dad or Father. Jake was always consistent in that. She tangled her fingers with his as he continued.
“Let’s just say that not only do I believe Bannaconni and Trent are guilty in the women’s disappearances, but that other disappearances have never been discovered. They’ve had women bring rape and torture charges against them in two separate incidences, but they were acquitted when, in fact, they were guilty. How do I know they were guilty? I know them and I saw them kill someone, a nanny of mine they blamed for their abuse of me. Their wives are every bit as depraved and cruel and bloodthirsty as they are. They are serial killers, yet they’ll never be caught.” He pulled his hands away from her, as if he couldn’t have physical contact even when mentioning his childhood.
She went white, she knew she did. She could feel the color draining from her face. She believed him. She took a deep breath. “Did they try to kill you, Jake?”
“There were times I wished they had.”
“All the scars?”
He nodded slowly. “Not necessarily all of them, but, yes, they liked to inflict pain. For the power and the rush. It’s all about power.” He waited a heartbeat. Two. Wanting her to know the truth. Wanting her to know what she was getting into, or maybe he wanted her to prove that she really belonged to him. “I have the same genetic makeup. Their blood flows in my veins.”
She tried not to see the understanding of his parents’ deviant need for power in his eyes. That remote, cold look he often had on his face, the determination to destroy his enemies. The ruthless traits in him that made him a bitter, relentless enemy were stamped on his face. He took apart companies like others took out garbage. He reveled in his ability to scent weakness and he circled like a shark with the smell of blood before going in for the kill. His attacks were always swift, unexpected and ferocious. Emma moistened her suddenly dry lips and tried to breathe normally.
“Do you like to inflict pain, Jake? For the feeling of power? For the rush?”
His gaze jumped to hers, locked and held. “Yes.” He wanted her to know the truth about him, about the monster living in him. Not buried deep, but close to the surface. She had to know. He hadn’t started out thinking he would ever reveal the ugliness inside him to anyone, but she deserved the truth. He owed her that.
Emma’s breath left her lungs in a rush, as if she’d been punched and couldn’t catch air. He caught her hands again, locking them together, and she had to fight to keep from pulling away. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, from the rejection there. He had bared his soul and expected rejection—maybe even was half hoping for it.
“Have you ever killed anyone? Done anything like your parents?”
“The enemies,” he corrected.
She took a shallow breath. It was the best she could do. “The enemies, then. Have you ever physically harmed another human being?”
“Not like the enemies have, but I killed a man who meant to murder Drake. I felt I had no choice. Everything happened fast and there wasn’t time to think.”
Emma was silent, trying to wrap her mind around how the conversation had taken such an unexpected, shocking turn, yet she wasn’t nearly as shocked as she should have been.
“Emma.” Jake waited until she was wholly focused on him. “I had no choice.”
He was telling the truth. She knew he was by his scent alone. “Have you ever been cruel to animals?”
“No, of course not. I would never do such a thing, nor have I ever wanted to.”
“What about the children? Have you ever wanted to hurt them?” She held her breath, terrified of his answer. He never looked away from her, although it had to hurt him that she asked.
Jake felt his stomach turn. “Never. Never, Emma. Remember when I told you if I ever hit them—or you—that I wanted you to leave me and tell Drake? I meant it.”
“What about me, Jake? Have you wanted to hurt me?”
There it was. The question he knew would come. The one he had hoped wouldn’t come. He kept his gaze locked with hers. He couldn’t have looked away from her even if he wanted to. He had to judge her reaction to his answer. He had to see the disgust and horror for himself. “Sometimes.” His voice was barely a thread, barely whispered aloud.
She didn’t flinch. She had courage, but he already knew that about her. She blinked up at him, digesting his answer, knowing he spoke the truth. She didn’t look at him as if he were a monster, she didn’t even pull her hands from his, but he felt her tremble.
“Why?”
It took every ounce of courage he had to look her in the eye, to answer her, to let her see inside of him to the dark, ugly truth that he was exposing to her. “To make you prove your loyalty to me. To know you’ll stay no matter what, that you want me enough to take whatever I dish out. Other times it’s been because another man is too close to you and I need to show him you’re mine.”
Again she was silent, but she still hadn’t turned away. Her gaze remained steady on his. “You’ve never hurt me,” she pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to, Emma. That means I choose not to be like the enemies. It’s a conscious choice I make every single day. I choose my targets in business, people who have hurt others, and I don’t take down those weaker than me. Or those who are honest. I made up my mind that if I had to be a monster, I would at least make certain it didn’t control me.”
“I’m not laying down for you, Jake. I’ll never lay down for you.”
“I know that.”
“I can see you manipulating me at times and I allow it because whatever you want isn’t a big deal to me, but if it ever was, if I wanted something, nothing would stop me.” She leaned toward him. “You think about it long and hard before you ever decide to hurt me, Jake. If you hit me, I will walk away. I have too much respect for myself to put up with that kind of crap, no matter how much I love you. And I do love you. I know I do, whether you believe it or not.”