Jersey Six - Jewel E Ann Page 0,34

while Ian Cooper mowed down two innocent people on a road without a single ounce of regret or accountability?

Step, step, step … she dragged herself to the stage as all kinds of scenarios played in her mind. No one knew anything about his past, not even those closest to him. How was that possible? Did he never go home for the holidays? Never see his family? Or did they help him get away with murder, creating a new life for him, knowing he would never be able to go back. Like someone in witness protection?

There was only one way to know for sure … she had to get close to him—closer than anyone else. Closer than Max. Closer than Ames. She needed to draw him in like she did her opponents, giving him a false sense of strength and trust.

When she was sixteen, Jersey had sex in a red sports car for a bag of groceries, a blanket, and a pair of shoes. Another time, she exchanged a blowjob for a tube of antibiotic ointment for a festering wound on her heel. Jersey and desperation had an intimate relationship.

For revenge … she would do anything.

“What’s up, Coop?” She climbed the stairs, imagining the stage was her ring, and she always owned the ring.

“Coop?” The other guy holding a guitar winked at Ian.

Ian wore his signature lopsided grin.

“Make it quick. I’m supposed to be working. And my boss can be a real dick. If he sees me slacking, we’re all in trouble.”

Jab, jab, jab …

No man liked to go down without a good fight. If he killed her people, Ian Cooper would go down hard, and he wouldn’t get back up.

When the naïve little girl inside of her liked him, Ian owned the stage, orchestrating the dance of butterflies, making her knees feel like jelly. With the new revelation, the gut-wrenching possibility that he got away with murder, Jersey owned him, his fucking stage, his words, his songs, his reputation, and everything that made him want to take his next breath—even if he didn’t know it yet.

White teeth peeked out from his lips as she obliterated his personal space by stopping when the toes of her white sneakers tapped the toes of his unlaced, neon blue tennis shoes. She tipped her chin up and grinned—a sweet and very poisonous smile.

“I’m a dick?”

She shrugged. “I imagine you have one.”

His grin doubled in size. “I have; therefore, I am?”

She had to think of Dena and Charles, and she had to imagine Ian killing them, anything less made her vulnerable to him. Every single thing about him had the power to destroy her if she didn’t destroy him first.

“Guys,” Ian took a step back, reclaiming his space. “This is Jersey Six. Jersey, this is Alex.” He nodded toward the ponytailed blond holding a guitar. “That’s Jordan on the drums.”

Skinny, bald Jordan nodded and smiled, twirling a drumstick between his fingers.

“Bryson on the keyboards.”

“Hi, Jersey.” He winked at her. Bryson and his wavy, dark hair—slightly longer than Ian’s hair—rivaled the rock star who stood center stage. Jersey made a note to never hit Bryson’s beautiful face, even if Ian had to die.

Jersey Six.

He introduced her by name, with no reference to their relationship, and nobody seemed to care. Was that because Ian demanded privacy in all aspects of his personal life, like any good killer would do? Or was she the flavor of the month in their minds?

“Did you get lunch?”

She nodded.

“Great. Let’s go grab some water.” He turned and exited the stage at the back.

Jersey paused for a few seconds before jogging after him. “You drink a lot of water.”

“I sweat a lot. Don’t you … when you’re in the ring?”

The ring. She already missed hitting a bag or an opponent—without getting in trouble. “I sweat when I’m training, but in the ring, I just get the job done. It rarely requires breaking a sweat.”

Ian stopped at the door to the green room and turned toward her. “Is that so?” His eyes made a slow inspection of her. She couldn’t tell if they admired her or doubted her. The former made her job easier; the latter made it more fun. She liked people who sat back and smirked, never seeing it coming—seeing her coming.

“Coop, if you keep questioning my ability to put people in their place, I’m going to be forced to knock you on your ass, and I know Max will not be happy with me. But both of you will have no