Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Jersey punched, kicked, jabbed, and grunted at the hundred-pound punching bag hanging in Ian’s workout room. The wine wore off by eleven. Ian joined her in the shower around midnight. She peeled his limbs from her naked body around two. Stared at the ceiling until three. Slipped on a sports bra, shorts, and her boxing gloves ten minutes later.
“Can’t sleep either?”
She turned toward Chris’s voice. He stood in the doorway, wearing sweats and holding a glass of water.
“I see you’re finally quenching your thirst.” She rammed her fist into the bag again.
“Are we really going to talk about that?” He moseyed around the room, inspecting the expensive exercise equipment.
“No. We’re not.” Jersey grunted with another jab.
“Listen …” He sat in the seat of the rowing machine, with no intention of rowing. “I get that you don’t want to kill an innocent man—which he’s not. But you’re not doing anything except letting him crawl between your legs. The plan was to destroy his reputation, turn the world against him, make him want to die.”
She ignored him, throwing another punch.
Chris shrugged. “I’ll play devil’s advocate for a minute and pretend that he’s not the person who killed them. But he’s still not your happily-ever-after. He will despise you on a visceral level for planning his death. He’ll know that all of this was an act because you can’t honestly fall in love with the man you’re planning to kill. He’s too smart to be that gullible. So … any way you look at it, this story doesn’t end with you both alive and together.”
She bent over, resting her gloves on her knees while catching her breath. Chris was right. One hundred percent.
“Tell me what to do.” Jersey’s sweat-stained face glanced up at him.
A tiny smile curled his lips. “Put yourself on the radar. He’s working his ass off to do it anyway by getting you a passport to join him abroad, but being the flavor of the month is not a huge deal. I’m sure he’s had girlfriends. However, we don’t want his adoring fans to be jealous of you. We want them to hate you because you’re bad for their rock star.”
“Bad how?”
“Unpolished. Impulsive. Unpredictable. And you have a real doozy of a past. You’ve been arrested. You’ve been in juvie. You’ve killed a man. That’s not exactly girlfriend material for the world’s favorite singer.”
“Petty theft. Assault charges. I spent a week in juvie. One lousy week. Less than three days in jail before being sentenced to community service. And the man I killed was a sexual predator. It was self-defense. I didn’t spend one night in jail. There wasn’t even a trial.”
Chris chuckled. “Yes, Jers, compared to the population of Marley’s, you are nothing but a white dove with a tiny smudge of dirt on your wing. But to adoring, young fans who might not even have a parking ticket on their record, you are a hideous criminal, a worthless piece of shit from Newark who doesn’t deserve their Ian. And that’s exactly how we want it.”
“So he’ll let me go. Game over. Then what?”
“Let you go? No. They’ll come after you, and he’ll risk everything to protect you. Were you not in the kitchen last night?”
She stood, stretching her shoulders while turning her back to him. “Fuck you,” she mumbled.
“No. But if you did fuck me the way you fucked Ian last night … I sure as hell would risk my whole world to keep you.”
“But … what if he knows? What if he’s keeping me close to him so I don’t kill him?”
“That makes no sense.” Chris stood, finishing his glass of water.
“It does. He has a secret too. I see the agony on his face when I share pieces of my past. I …” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “I need to see him crack, just a little. I’m going to tell him about the Russells. And he won’t have to say a word. I’ll see the truth on his face. I need that … I need the truth.”
“Fine, Jers.” Chris stopped in front of her, using his height and a challenging smirk to try to intimidate her. “You do your thing, and I’ll do mine. Let’s see who’s better at avenging death.”
“Good morning.” Max smiled as Jersey rounded the corner to the kitchen.
“Hey. Where’s Coop? I got up really early to exercise. But by the time I went upstairs to shower, he was up and gone. No note or anything.”
“He probably couldn’t find a receipt and pen.” Max shot her a toothy grin. “There.” She nodded to a bag on the island. “There’s a new phone for you in that bag. Welcome to the world of technology, where humans communicate through texting and emojis. And where handwritten notes on the back of receipts are the equivalent of carving stick people on cave walls.”