fingers slow to idle in his hair.
Jersey dreamed of the handful of moments in her life when she felt so safe, normal, content: when G let her sleep next to her, when Dena and Charles welcomed her with love into their home, when Chris kept her warm and read her soothing passages from his books.
“Jersey?” A while later, Max’s voice brought her out of her dreams.
Jersey’s eyes fluttered open.
“You have to work, and Ian has sound check. Have him out that door in five minutes.” Max smiled before pivoting and exiting the room.
No lecture.
No frowning.
She could have woken him herself and kicked Jersey out, but she didn’t. As Jersey moved her leg to untangle them, Ian shifted, opening his eyes and making another quarter turn with their bodies, pinning her beneath him, wedging his pelvis between her legs.
“Are you trying to escape?” He nipped at her lower lip.
She rolled her eyes, trying to contain her own amusement. “Coop, if that was my goal, I’d already be gone. You have less than five minutes to get to sound check, and I have to go sell your stupid shit to gullible people who think you’re something special.”
He grinned, pushing himself off the sofa. “Get out of here.” Ian grabbed a new bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and brought it to his mouth with his grin still in place.
Jersey peeled herself from the sofa, straightening her shirt and adjusting her knife as she eyed him through a contrast of emotions. Why did everything good in her life have to morph into something bad. Chris labeled her chance meeting with Ian as simply fate. Jersey considered it plain fucking cruel.
“Jersey?”
“Yeah?” She stilled at the door.
“Wish me luck.”
With her back to him, she let a grin slide all the way up her face. “Luck, Coop.” She eased open the door. “And Coop?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you like to play basketball?”
“Yeah. Why?”
The fire burned hotter as she edged her way toward the truth. “No reason.” The door clicked behind her.
Jersey soared through the night, transformed by his touch, haunted by his truth. The slow drip of revelations gathered in the pit of her stomach, nauseating her conscience, drowning her ability to pretend he didn’t kill the Russells.
“Hey,” Chris whispered at Jersey’s back.
The smile fell from her face as she snapped the lid onto the last plastic container of hats. The lingering fans trickled out of the venue as security made its final sweep through the venue at the end of the concert.
“Hey.” She drew in a slow breath and faced him.
“I heard some guys talking tonight about the first cars they owned when they were teenagers.”
Jersey stacked the containers onto the cart. “Sorry, I can’t help you. I’ve never owned a car. Never had a driver’s license.”
Chris peered at her with a blank expression. He failed to appreciate her need to make assumptions and end the conversation before granting him the opportunity to make his full case.
“Fine.” She huffed a full night’s worth of exasperation as she crossed her arms at her chest. “Tell me about the cars.”
He shook his head. “Just one car. Of all the makes and models of cars being tossed around in the conversation, the one that stuck—the one that triggered a memory—was a black Dodge Charger. Ian drove a black Dodge Charger. I bet it was the car that killed the Russells.”
Like her friend, the ultimate bearer of bad news, his revelation hovered over her, dismal and brooding. “Okay.” She shifted her gaze to the lingering crew drifting past them in random directions.
“Okay—”
“I’ll handle it,” she bit out the words and immediately cringed.
“He’s no fairy tale. You know that, right?”
Jersey nodded.
“I bet he’s never killed anyone beyond them. I bet he funnels money into some heartbreakingly worthy causes. Clearly, he plucks homeless people off the street and gives them jobs. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out he visits young cancer patients or grants end-of-life wishes to them. I don’t think he was born a murderer. But you can’t undo certain wrongs, and this is one that will never be undone. You have to remember that. You have to remember that when he’s nice to you. When he touches you. When he makes you feel special. When he gives you pleasure.”
She swallowed hard, clenching her jaw and balling her hands.
“Jersey …”
Her head jerked when his finger lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“He might even fall for you, promise you the world.”
“I’m going to show you the world, Jersey.”
“But he