41. Alex

Chapter 41

Alex

A nother morning waking up alone without Jaclyn. I hoped that after I slipped her my hotel key card last night, I'd wake to her soft body tucked into my side. Fuck, I miss the feel of her in my arms, the sweet citrus scent that lingers on her skin, how fucking delicious she tastes... Mostly, I miss how my heart jumps out of my damn chest the moment she walks into a room. I blow out a long breath, unsure how much more of this torture I can take. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I glance over at the alarm clock, worry coursing through me as I notice it's blinking 12:00.

Shit, what time is it? And where's Jaclyn?

A small shred of light slips through the curtains, but the room is otherwise dark. I slide out of bed and open them one at a time. They must be black-out, doing their job, because based on where the sun is in the sky blinding me, it's around eight or nine. I squint at the brightness, closing the curtains and turning on the lamp on the bedside table.

Checking my phone, there's a missed call and text from Jaclyn. I can't help my smile as I swipe to open the text.

Wife

I need your help.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It could be anything—the Gallaghers, Chris, the media…

My mind is reeling at the possibilities. The time stamp is from twenty minutes ago. I quickly text back to inquire about which room she's staying in. As soon as the room number appears on my screen, I'm scrambling to get dressed in dark gray slacks and a white button-down.

Dressed and ready to save my wife from whatever danger may present itself, I pause at the door.

I don't own a gun.

I don't even own a fucking knife.

What if she's in trouble and I can't help?

If Chris hurt her, my fist will do in a pinch. How am I supposed to protect someone I love against a bullet?

With my hand poised on the nob, I take a page out of Jaclyn's book—she always pays attention to the little details. I'll have an easier time getting to her, and potentially saving her from a shitty situation if I look like my brother. Rushing to the bathroom, I wet my travel comb and glide it through my locks until the reflection in the mirror is Chris, not me. Close enough . After a quick once over with my razor, I hurry to her room.

I rap my knuckles on the door incessantly until it opens. My stomach bottoms out at the sight of my gorgeous wife in a white terrycloth robe with bloodshot eyes and tear tracks down her cheeks. In an instant, I take her in my arms and hold her tight.

"What's wrong, princess?" She shakes her head, making my shirt damp as she cries against my chest. "Did he hurt you?" She shakes her head again, and I step inside, closing the door behind us. Cupping her face, my eyes search hers for an answer. "Jaclyn, you can tell me. I won't hurt him." It's a bold-faced lie. If he so much as looked at her the wrong way, I'll rearrange his face.

As I wipe away her tears with the pads of my thumbs, she sniffles with a choked sob. "Chris is…" She cries harder. "Alex, he's gone. I don't know what to do."

"He left you? That bastard. He couldn't have gone far. I'll call someone to track him down." I'll make sure they don't look very hard.

"No."

"No? Do you know where he went?"

Jaclyn takes a deep breath, then swallows hard. "Bedroom."

With a frown, I glance behind her to the open door leading to it. I kiss her forehead and march into the room, ready to rip into him for making her cry even a single tear. I reach the door, spotting my brother asleep in bed, his CPAP mask off and dangling from the machine by the thick tube.

"Wake up, asshole," I growl, but as I move closer, he's… gray? I'm afraid to touch him to check for a pulse. Using the back of my hand, I feel his forehead.

Ice cold.

No. This isn't happening.

His chest isn't moving.

"Wake up, asshole," I repeat, trying to shake him awake. When I finally check his pulse, there's nothing.

My mind is racing a million miles a minute as my own tears begin to fall and all the air leaves my lungs. I pivot in place, spotting Jaclyn where I left her. Except she's clutching her knees on the floor, shaking and crying. Did she kill him? Or maybe the Gallaghers? They mentioned on a few occasions they wanted him out of the way. But this? If they are responsible for taking my family from me, they will fucking pay.

Finally able to catch my breath, I will away my tears and return to Jaclyn. Legs tucked into her chest, I fall beside her and brush the hair away from her face. "Shh, I'm here. It's going to be okay." It's the first lie I've ever told her, but it's the best I've got, and I want it to be true.

I lift her onto my lap, and we weep together in silence for several minutes, though it could be several hours. Time doesn't exist. One thing's for certain, I know in my soul Jaclyn isn't to blame for this.

A swirl of grief and anger courses through me from discovering my brother dead in their bed, but even through my pain, I can't imagine what she's going through right now.

My beautiful, sweet, incredible wife had to wake up next to his lifeless body…

I'm still in shock as pain fills my chest. I lost a man who I've shared everything with since we were conceived—fuck, we even shared Jaclyn. As much as I love her, I'd give up what we have if it meant he was still alive. He wasn't a good man, but neither am I… He didn't deserve to die.

"I'll kill him. And his brother."

Pulling back, she studies me. "Wh-what?"

"The Gallaghers, they have to be behind this."

"I don't… I don't think so. There was some sort of power outage." She points to the time on the microwave, which is blinking 12:00. With her breath shaky, she cries, "This is all my fault! He was supposed to see the cardiologist and pulmonologist tomorrow. I should have insisted he bring the other machine. The CPAP at home has a backup battery; he brought the travel one. It was off when I woke up."

With the power out in my room, too, the whole hotel must have been down at some point last night. I breathe a little easier; it wasn't a targeted attack on my brother. Tears threaten again, but this time, I don't let them fall. I need to be strong for Jaclyn right now and keep a level head. I'll need to make sure that she talks to a vetted psychologist when this is all over. Fuck, we both should.

"It's not your fault. If the CPAP stopped working, any number of things could've happened. A medical examiner will confirm if it was an accident."

"What do we do? Do we call the police?"

"No." I shake my head. "I'll call Ned. He'll know what to do."

Jaclyn nods, wiping her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her robe. I help her up and settle her on the couch. After taking a couple of deep breaths, I take my phone out of my back pocket to call him.

"Mr. Blake. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he answers on the second ring, grunting as if he's lifting weights at a gym.

"We have a… situation in my brother's room at the hotel the gala was at last night."

"I can come by in an hour or two. I have another situation right now."

"This is a ‘ life or death ' one," I grumble. "If you catch my drift."

Ned chuckles, "Oh, yeah? Seems to be a lot of those happening this morning. Are you and Ms. Taylor all right?"

"Depends on what your definition of ‘all right' is, Ned ."

"Down, tiger. What do you need? A doctor? Someone to handle PR? I can send whoever you need."

"Not sure yet." I shake my head, and begin pacing, raking my hand through my hair. "We need to keep this between us for now until we figure out what to do. What time can you be here?"

He grunts, and there is a loud thud through the phone. "I can call a guy to wrap up for me here and be up to your room in about fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes?

"Are you here? At the hotel?"

"You know, I cannot confirm or deny that," he laughs. "See you in fifteen, Mr. Blake."

I keep Jaclyn tucked into my side for the next twelve minutes, stroking her hair and praising how well she's doing with everything, all the while trying to keep my own emotions stuffed down. I don't know how I'll tell my parents or what we'll tell the world, but right now, my only priority is making sure my wife is all right. I can fall apart later.