Jersey Six - Jewel E Ann Page 0,54
destroyed your world. He killed it. He can’t undo death. He can’t make something from nothing. He left you with nothing. And you can’t let him try to fill that void with things. Ian has all the things. And they’re bright and shiny, soft and comfy, physically rewarding like soft beds, warm meals, and intimacy.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Chris studied her. “Do you?”
Jersey’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“Have you let him inside of you? Did you let yourself enjoy it?”
She held his gaze, letting it slide over her like a stone honing a blade. “I fear you mistake my lack of education for weakness—gullibility. If he killed them, it wasn’t intentional. He’s not a killer, and neither are you. I think you might take a bullet for me, but I don’t think you’d actually take a life for me.”
“I’ve got this.” Dani strode up next to Jersey and started pushing the cart of containers. “Max said to meet her at the back entrance.” Her words evaporated in the distance.
Jersey nodded once, keeping her attention on Chris as her hardened expression softened into her greatest asset—control. “You see … I’ve taken a life. Courageously. Brutally. With a steady hand and a numb conscience. And I was only fourteen. I don’t fear death or value life anymore. Not my own. Not Ian’s. And not yours. So when you and your ex-BFF use me as a tool to make sense of your own miserable lives, just remember … I lost my soul before I ever knew I had one. And that makes me everyone’s worst fucking nightmare.”
Before Chris could respond or even blink, she brushed past him and out the back entrance to Max in the front seat of the SUV and Shane holding open the back door.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” Max mumbled on a yawn.
The familiar clean-guy fragrance filled the vehicle, and Ian’s mop of dark hair looked damp, shower-damp, not sticky with sweat.
“Bryson’s family home isn’t too far from here. We’re going there to hang out for a bit.”
“A party?” Jersey questioned with a dull edge of irritation.
Ian’s lips twisted as he studied her or maybe her response. “An intimate gathering. Food. Drinks. Conversation.” He grinned. “You can skip the conversation. We’ll just keep you fed and hydrated.”
“Asshole.”
Shane chuckled from the driver’s seat.
“You’re an asshole too.” Her middle finger shot up so Shane could see it in his mirror.
“I want to go back to the hotel. If you refrain from calling me an asshole too, I’ll let you come with me,” Max offered.
“You’re my favorite person at the moment, Max.”
“We’re all going to Bryson’s for a little bit.” Ian shook his head while turning his attention to his window and the fading lights of Madison as they wormed their way out of the city.
“I don’t like this.” Max shot Ian a nervous scowl as he opened her door.
Jersey glanced up at Shane. He didn’t look overly enthused either.
“We stay an hour.” Ian shut her door and followed Shane’s lead through the smattering of people smoking various things and cluttering the front yard of the sprawling single-level home seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
Several high or intoxicated women stopped Ian along the way to snap a quick photo while Max grumbled a few just greats.
“What’s the deal?” Jersey asked, leaning close to Max as they followed Shane and Ian.
“The deal is Bryson has a history of small gatherings turning into disasters. Fires. Drugs. Prostitutes. Arrests … you name it.”
“Then why are we here?”
Max sighed. “He cleaned up his act several years ago. Took months off to go through rehab and then reconciled with his wife. Ian trusts him now.”
“But you don’t?” They squeezed through the congestion at the front door, shouldering past a thick group of mostly women.
“Look around, Jersey. Of course I don’t.”
The crowd engulfed Ian as Max pulled Jersey toward the food. “Rock stars and skinny bitches … they only drink and snort shit. So no one hangs out around the food until the potheads smoke their last joint and gnaw their way to the bottom of the chip bowl.”
Max was right. The table of snacks appeared untouched.
“You realize you’re quite skinny yourself.” Jersey eyed Max as they loaded their plates with food.
“It’s genetic. I don’t drink or do drugs and I love food. If I weren’t genetically thin, I’d be morbidly obese.”
Jersey lifted onto her tippy toes to find Ian in the crowd that was far from an intimate gathering. She spotted him with a beer clutched