Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,39

doesn’t mean you’ve got to instill your insecurities in me.”

“That’s not what I’m doin’,” he argued, his own ire rising. “You think I wanna tell you that Dante was at Moonshiners with some fuckin’ chick? That he took one step inside, realized who was there, and walked right back out with that redhead on his arm?”

Her eyes widened and he saw the hurt.

Son of a bitch.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.

He motioned between them. “This is why. Your immediate response is to think I’m tryin’ to sabatoge you, JJ. I don’t like Dante. I’ve never liked the asshole. Not since you started datin’ him, anyway. But I’ve stayed outta your business.”

“Who was she?” JJ inquired, her voice softer.

“Said she was his assistant. I confronted him in the parking lot, but she was in the car.” Brantley exhaled. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, JJ.”

She shot to her feet, turned around as though she wasn’t sure what she was doing.

“Please don’t leave,” he urged. “Stay for a while. We’ll have a beer.”

“I don’t want a beer,” she countered, her green eyes lifting to his face.

Yeah, Brantley saw the hurt and anger. Problem was, he suspected some of it was aimed at him. No, he hadn’t told her what happened sooner, but he thought for sure someone would have.

He fucking hated having to always be the bad guy.

A minute later, JJ stormed out of the house and Brantley’s first thought was: would she be coming to work tomorrow?

He was a truly shitty friend.

***

When JJ left Brantley’s house, her entire world had been encased in a red haze. Everywhere she looked, the red film of anger clouded her vision. Still did as she pulled into her driveway.

How could Dante do this to her? He was the one who had pursued her, and despite her reluctance, he was the one who had insisted on exclusivity. She hadn’t wanted any of this.

He was such a fucking asshole.

Storming into her house, she threw her purse and keys on the coffee table, marched into the kitchen. She flung open the refrigerator, stared inside. She had no idea what she was looking for, but was certain something would ease the fiery anger that blazed through her. Wine, beer, whiskey. Something.

Only she didn’t want to get drunk. It never turned out well for her. She and booze were a toxic combination.

She would be the first to admit she had a temper. It was something that Dante had always been able to incite in her. And she suspected he did it on purpose. Back when they’d dated in high school, she’d been angry all the time. Back then, her anger had been joined by a need to hurt someone. She could still remember the night the shit had hit the fan with Dante. She’d been so pissed that he was cheating, JJ had lost complete control. Whaling on him had been the answer and it resulted in her getting a black eye. To his credit, Dante hadn’t hit her. It had been an honest accident, something she had pretty much done to herself. He’d gotten shit for it from everyone, and at the time, JJ hadn’t cared.

The shithead.

Of course, that had been the very last time she had ever hit anyone. She’d been so overcome with remorse, confused by how she could do such a thing. To a degree, she figured she had deserved the black eye she had sported for a week and a half. Then they had gone their separate ways.

Years later, Dante would come back into her life, requesting her help with his work. JJ had figured she owed him for that little outburst. Having intended only to help him the one time, she was still confused how she had allowed that to continue. How she had even started considering dating Dante on a permanent basis.

What she didn’t understand was why Dante insisted on chasing her when he clearly wanted to be with other women. They’d been doing fine these past few months. Sex, nothing more. Casual encounters, no entanglements. But he could never let it go, always claiming he wanted more. And when she’d stopped fighting…

The fucker.

JJ slammed the refrigerator shut, marched across the kitchen. She pivoted at the back door, headed the opposite direction, then continued. Again and again, she paced the length of her kitchen, hoping it would settle her.

It didn’t.

Although she would prefer simply never talking to Dante again, she knew she had to confront him. Otherwise, he would continue to pretend