afraid. A shiver rippled up her spine.
“Asher,” she explained as she reentered the den.
Jeremy was perched on the edge of the sofa, hands held out in front of him, fingers curled around phantom reins as Rosie and he danced through pirouettes on the flat screen. “Booty call?” he asked conversationally, eyes not leaving the TV.
“No.” She flopped down next to him and pulled a pillow into her lap. “He broke things off.”
The DVD was paused again. “Why?” Disbelief flashed across his face. “Because he’s still shitting in his pants about the other night? If that’s the case, maybe you’re better off without him. There’s no call for being that much of a puss.”
“No. Because Ben’s handling him like a suspect.”
“What?” Jeremy pushed away from the back of the couch, twisting to face her. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious,” she said irritably, wishing she hadn’t told him.
“Shit. That asshole. See? What did I just tell you? The man’s dangerous .”
“You don’t have to say it again.”
“He doesn’t even want you, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have you.” He shook his head. “And he’s willing to accuse people of murder , just to mess with your head.”
“Stop it.”
“No. Don’t you defend him, Jade. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“I’m not…” She sighed. “You know what.” She slapped the pillow against his shoulder and got to her feet. “I’m going to bed.”
“I’m not saying this to get you upset,” Jeremy said to her back, and she paused in the threshold, hand against the wall paneling. The plea in his voice prickled along her skin. “You need to be careful, sweetheart. You can’t trust Ben.”
“I never said I was going to, did I?” But that was the scary part: she hadn’t even tried to hold onto Asher. She hadn’t asked him to give her another chance; hadn’t distanced herself from Ben in his eyes. Vulnerable and frightened, she’d let Ben come crashing back into her life, and she wasn’t even worried about the implications.
“No,” Jeremy said, almost sadly. “No, you didn’t.”
7
J ade had thought there was nothing more destructive than a man in his twenties. That aimless, mindless wandering; the restless dissatisfaction with their lives and everything in it. They were cocky and brass and unapologetic, clambering from day to day like stampeding wildebeest. They cared about nothing save the idea that they stood for something: paper-maché Mephistopheles, each one of them.
But she’d been wrong.
Calculated, focused destruction – the cold cruelty of an impartial predator – was devastating. A man in his forties, lean and sharp-eyed and jaded, could draw you in with such skill you never noticed that he was planning to cut you down all along. A man like that could play charades and spin lies effortlessly; they could let you go without a backward thought. A man like that was untouchable. Jade had always thought she’d been smarter than to be fooled so thoroughly.
But she’d been wrong.
She was twenty-two when she met Ben. She had jury duty, and the parking deck on the Marietta square was a nightmare. She parked in a loading zone and when she left the courthouse, she found a tow truck backing up to her F-150. The tow truck driver didn’t want to hear her pleas or accept the twenty bucks she offered for his time, but the dark-haired man in a suit
“Asher,” she explained as she reentered the den.
Jeremy was perched on the edge of the sofa, hands held out in front of him, fingers curled around phantom reins as Rosie and he danced through pirouettes on the flat screen. “Booty call?” he asked conversationally, eyes not leaving the TV.
“No.” She flopped down next to him and pulled a pillow into her lap. “He broke things off.”
The DVD was paused again. “Why?” Disbelief flashed across his face. “Because he’s still shitting in his pants about the other night? If that’s the case, maybe you’re better off without him. There’s no call for being that much of a puss.”
“No. Because Ben’s handling him like a suspect.”
“What?” Jeremy pushed away from the back of the couch, twisting to face her. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious,” she said irritably, wishing she hadn’t told him.
“Shit. That asshole. See? What did I just tell you? The man’s dangerous .”
“You don’t have to say it again.”
“He doesn’t even want you, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have you.” He shook his head. “And he’s willing to accuse people of murder , just to mess with your head.”
“Stop it.”
“No. Don’t you defend him, Jade. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“I’m not…” She sighed. “You know what.” She slapped the pillow against his shoulder and got to her feet. “I’m going to bed.”
“I’m not saying this to get you upset,” Jeremy said to her back, and she paused in the threshold, hand against the wall paneling. The plea in his voice prickled along her skin. “You need to be careful, sweetheart. You can’t trust Ben.”
“I never said I was going to, did I?” But that was the scary part: she hadn’t even tried to hold onto Asher. She hadn’t asked him to give her another chance; hadn’t distanced herself from Ben in his eyes. Vulnerable and frightened, she’d let Ben come crashing back into her life, and she wasn’t even worried about the implications.
“No,” Jeremy said, almost sadly. “No, you didn’t.”
7
J ade had thought there was nothing more destructive than a man in his twenties. That aimless, mindless wandering; the restless dissatisfaction with their lives and everything in it. They were cocky and brass and unapologetic, clambering from day to day like stampeding wildebeest. They cared about nothing save the idea that they stood for something: paper-maché Mephistopheles, each one of them.
But she’d been wrong.
Calculated, focused destruction – the cold cruelty of an impartial predator – was devastating. A man in his forties, lean and sharp-eyed and jaded, could draw you in with such skill you never noticed that he was planning to cut you down all along. A man like that could play charades and spin lies effortlessly; they could let you go without a backward thought. A man like that was untouchable. Jade had always thought she’d been smarter than to be fooled so thoroughly.
But she’d been wrong.
She was twenty-two when she met Ben. She had jury duty, and the parking deck on the Marietta square was a nightmare. She parked in a loading zone and when she left the courthouse, she found a tow truck backing up to her F-150. The tow truck driver didn’t want to hear her pleas or accept the twenty bucks she offered for his time, but the dark-haired man in a suit
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