Chapter 20: Jay

All it took was just thinking about the bitch, and Jay’s temper was past boiling point. He hated that angry side of himself. He got that from his father, and it was a difficult thing to accept. He had never wanted to be like his father. He had hated the man—loathed his very existence. But was that enough to kill him? No. Malcolm Dexter had been a narcissistic asshole through and through, but his death had not been justified. And even above all of that? Neither had Ashley’s. Laurel would pay for what she did—Jay would not go down for this.
“What do you expect you’re going to do when you find her?” Addy asked him again.
She was still sitting on the bed, arms folded stubbornly over her chest. She was back to the old Addy, the stubborn girl with the hot head and the fire in her eyes. He liked that. He was used to that. She was the one he had so unintentionally fallen for. She was the girl who made him crazy inside and out.
“Are you going to kill her?”
“God knows I want to,” he said. He knelt in front of his bag, checking for the fourth time to make sure his gun was securely in place. He would need it where he was going.
“So, then you’ll really have blood on your hands when you go back to prison,” Addy said. Her voice was bitter. He couldn’t help the smug feeling he got from her words. Did she…care about him? God knew he cared about her. He cared about Addy Connor more than he had ever cared for a woman before. She made him crazy with passion—with desire. She challenged his every move; she made him want to scream and shout and at the very same time laugh and smile and hug her close—and never let her go.
“I’m not going to kill her, Addy,” he said.
“What are you going to do, then?”
“I’m going to get a confession.” It was simple to him. That was all he needed from Laurel before the feds would finally stop trying to run him down, and they could focus on convicting the right fucking person. He had no intention of hurting Laurel. He did not need to hurt her, even though the desire to make her pay for her crime was still strong. She had taken his sister from him. And now, while he ran from the law, looking over his shoulder every second of every day, she was kicking back, watching, and enjoying the fucking ride.
“That’s it?” Addy said. She tilted her head to the side, looking so much like a confused puppy dog that he had to fight to keep from laughing at her.
“Yes, Addy,” he said. “That’s it. I may be an asshole sometimes, but I’m no murderer.”
“That’s not what I meant. I—” She looked flustered, cheeks flaming scarlet as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration. He crossed the room and matched his lips to hers, shushing her. He wanted so badly to take her where she stood, to rip off her clothes and never let her go. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not now, not again, not ever.
Not ever.
He knew what he had to do. This couldn’t keep going on. Jay knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her and it was because of him. He had put himself in a dangerous situation, and he had dragged her down with him. That wasn’t fair, especially not to her. Despite how much it pained him—no, killed him—he knew what he had to do. For her sake.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said. He brushed a strand of her hair behind one ear, then leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. Her skin was so soft, so warm. His lips lingered on her skin, and she closed her eyes and sighed dreamily. The thought of never feeling her skin against his again made him sick to his stomach. “This is where I leave you.”
Her head whipped back suddenly, eyes wide as if he’d just struck her.
“What?” She pulled her hand away from his, and he could almost see that brick wall of emotions shoot straight up, guarding her. “Leave me?”
“Yes. Addy, I have to. If something happened to you, it would kill me.” When he reached for her again, she pushed him away, looking repulsed, and he felt as though someone had stabbed him in the chest with a dagger.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “You took me hostage, Jay, and now this is where you leave me? I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean!”
Her face had reddened like she was ready to burst into a fury. He thought of the kid back in the bar, the one who she’d punched, and he had the desire to take a couple of steps back.
“Stop yelling,” he said. “Please.” He offered his hand to her, but she refused it, instead pushing past him to sit down on the bed. Every second he could feel her pulling further and further away from him, both emotionally and physically. He hated this—he didn’t want to be like Ryan—and yet, that’s precisely the position he had put himself in.
“You had sex with me,” Addy said. “You kidnapped me, you had sex with me, and now you’re dropping me off in the middle of fucking nowhere?”
He sat down next to her on the bed, resisting the urge to reach out and hold her. He knew that if she were angry enough, she would probably slap him—not that he could blame her. He deserved it.
“You have a life, Addy. You have people who care about your very existence—I’m giving you an out. This is your out. I don’t need you anymore.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Pain crossed her expression, a pain that hit him so hard it physically hurt. When he reached out, she scooted away. He had meant none of that, but he had intended to make this easier on them both—and it had backfired.
“I get it,” she said. He watched her stand and cross the floor, her arms folded, guarding herself. There was no getting through to her now. She was back to that guarded, angry girl who had picked him up in the driveway. “This is such a bizarre situation,” she mused. “Guy takes a girl hostage. Girl hates guy. Guy and girl have sex. Girl falls for the guy. Guy leaves. You could almost write a book about it.” She was trying to put on a fake bravado, but he could see right through it. The pain and hurt radiated from her.
“My intention has never been to hurt you,” he said. “Not in the beginning, and not now. This is how it was going to happen all along, Addy. This is how it’s still going to happen. I need to wash my hands of this accusation, and I can’t bear to throw you in the middle of it.”
“It’s fine, Jay,” she assured him. She smiled, but it was forced. In the short time he’d known her, he’d learned to figure out that much. “I understand.”
He was surprised when she crossed back over to him, taking his hands in hers. Her fingers were cold, chilling him. She leaned in, her lips brushing his. As he returned the kiss, she pulled back slightly, teasing him. He caught her chin in his hand, unable to fight the feelings billowing to the surface.
“I don’t love you,” he said. “And you don’t love me. We don’t even know each other. I took you hostage, Addy, and I was mean to you, and I was rude, and I was angry—and I made a mistake. We both made a mistake. We don’t love each other. You know that.”
“I never said we did.” She brushed away his hand. “We don’t have to love each other to make this work, Jay. We’re just two people, like any other two people in this world.”
“Addy, I—”
“Be quiet.” This time, when she leaned in for another kiss, he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t pull away. He pulled her into him instead, memorizing the softness of her hair against his cheek, the curves of her body, the heat in her lips.
“Okay,” he whispered. “You can come with me.”
In the dead of night, even the outside engulfed in silence, the only sounds to meet his ears were that of passion and desire.