13. Jax

Jax

D ane comes in just as Rafael returns and passes me a cup of coffee.

"Just so you know, you two are still paying me for this."

Dane gapes at me. "No."

Rafael glares. "Yes, we had an agreement with her."

"But-"

"Dane, stop arguing all the time. She gets paid."

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him until he nods tightly. Rafael sits close to me, his arm brushing mine. I do not know what to make of him. In a world where I go out of my way to avoid being touched by people, his touch is not only comforting, but I find I crave it. I unconsciously lean into it. There is something so trustworthy about him. He makes me feel safe.

It's ridiculous. I try to straighten, but our shoulders brush, and I slump, giving up. I scowl. I'm just going to take control of this situation.

"I met Louis here in school. We became friends, and when I was sixteen, I left home. Eventually, we ended up in a relationship, and you know, life happened."

I fall silent, the eyes of both of the guys burning into me.

"It was a Wednesday, and it was eleven in the morning. I remember looking at the clock and thinking how cool it was, and that whoever was on the other side of the door was going to be good news. I was about to head into work. The gallery was opening late that night. Louis hadn't been home for two days, but he'd said he was going out of town on business and would be back that night. It wasn't unusual. So, there I am, living my life, when I open the door to two detectives. They took me down to the station and told me what had been going on."

I swallow hard, remembering the photos, the screaming accusations, the soft cajoling, the verbal traps. It was the most exhausting days of my life.

"They didn't believe me. No one believed me. There was evidence that pointed at me. Twenty missing people, a friend of mine, Valerie Jean, had gone missing three days earlier. They were convinced I had something to do with it, that I helped Louis. That he was the serial killer the press has dubbed the Black Dahlia killer. The one who mutilates bodies and leaves them on display, the killer who leaves a blood soaked dahlia on every one of his victims."

I snort and look away.

"It was preposterous. It was insane. I would have known if he was a killer. I argued, I fought. But I'd been mugged the night before, and I had bruises on me, and that was more evidence. I had a breakdown, I think on day four, and they sent me off to the psych ward for nine months. When I got out, I made my way here, trying to track down any information that I could."

"Why?" Dane asks.

A flash of frustrated fury surges through me, and I take a long, slow breath. "Because it ruined my life. I will go to my grave with people believing that I was somehow involved, that I somehow knew. Do you have any idea how it feels to be tarred with the brush of someone else's actions? It wasn't Louis' face in the newspapers, it was mine! I want to find proof, I have to." The sound of my voice trails off, leaving a heavy silence.

The warehouse has been converted into an expensive-looking home. Lots of natural wood bookshelves filled with books. Stainless steel appliances. The couch I'm sitting on is white leather and butter soft. There's no way they are renting this.

Rafael pulls open his pocket and sets a pair of glasses on his nose. It just enhances the hot geek vibe he's got going. I watch him out of the corner of my eye curiously.

"All right, so, you are looking for redemption to clear your name. So, tell us how you met."

I purse my lips and ignore Dane. It's the way he's saying things that are annoying me. Like he doesn't believe me, like I'm a bad person.

"You're judging me for being with him, aren't you?" I say flatly. "It's okay, everyone does. I must be sick, I must be disturbed, I must be fucked up!"

Dane scowls but doesn't deny it. I can feel Rafael frozen on the couch, staring at both of us. It hurts that Dane feels like this, and I don't even know why. He's a stranger. I look away from both of them, staring at the polished marble bench tops.

"I don't blame you. I'd probably judge me, too. My mother died of an overdose when I was nine. I was sent to live with my father, but his world is so different from mine, and every day, all I would hear was the arguments between him and his new wife." My leg won't stop bouncing, so I stand up and move around. "I had no friends at school. I kept mostly to myself because, well, I'm sure a psychologist would say that I was suffering from some kind of trauma from my mother dying. She was a good mum, she just couldn't help herself. She never hit me. I always had food. She hired babysitters. But she was an addict. A functional addict. It wasn't a traumatic childhood. But I couldn't seem to be a happy, carefree kid who made friends. Then in high school, I couldn't bring myself to care about anything."

"You don't have to tell us this," Rafael says huskily.

"Yes, I do. Because I met Louis because I took a chance on a new girl and became friends with her, I didn't realise it was a test. I had no idea it was like a hazing prank. She had to get close and embarrass me in the most awkward way possible. Louis stopped her. He was a quiet loner, all gold and handsome, untouchable. He stepped in close to the girl, whispered something, and she turned white and ran. She changed schools a week later. Louis didn't talk to me again for a year. But I watched him, and he watched me."

Dane flops down on the couch. "How does this help us?"

I count to five in my head and unclench my hands. "Louis is patient. He's prepared to wait for the right moment. Nothing he does is an afterthought."

"What happened to the girl?" Dane asks suddenly.

"What?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"The bully? What happened to her?"

"She, uh, died. Suicide."

Dane mutters something, and my eyes widen as the realisation rolls through my brain.

"No!" I moan and drop my head in my hands and sit heavily on the couch opposite the one I was sitting on. "No, he didn't. Oh, god, is there no end to this insanity?"

Rafael stands up and sits on the coffee table and looks at me. "I think we found his weakness."

I look up through eyes clouded with tears. "What?"

"I think the only thing that could have brought him down was his one true weakness. I think maybe that's you, Jax."

I shake my head. "There is no way. I'm not a weakness. I'm just his idea of a joke."

"No, no. Hear me out. He protected you. Louis Falcon pursued you. He courted and won you. I think you might be the only thing in the world he cares about enough to protect. I think you were his heart, and he was determined to protect it."

"Louis didn't have a heart!" I snap. "God, that sounds cold. Reduce half my life to a possession of a madman." It's nauseating.

"Whatever happened to undo him and send him into hiding, it must have been big. So the question is…are you still his heart?"

I stand up and pace. "He won't come for me," I mutter.

"He might," Dane says with this voice of reason that I'm sure could convert a nun.

"He won't," I growl.

"On the day the detectives came for you, Louis Falcon disappeared off the face of the Earth. People have been searching for him for six years. But the last person to see him was you."

I glare at him. "I am aware of that."

"What happened is that he got caught. The missing person came to light, and the spotlight turned on, and he took off. Now he's back, hunting for you, Jax."

I feel sick. How do I explain that it isn't him? That Louis wouldn't come for me. He only loves himself. "No, it's not him."

"We go back as we planned," Rafael says. "But I think maybe there might be more clues that you don't realise. If we work together, we might be able to find out what happened. She knows him, and he would have told her things, hidden in layers. Trust me, Dane. She's the answer to finding Terrance."

Dane scowls at the both of us, but I just look between them both and shake my head. "What do you mean, told me things?" I can't help the incredulous tone.

Rafael stops and turns to me. "You were his chosen, his lover, his confidante. He would have told you things that don't even seem like they make sense, they seem irrelevant, but they would have been pieces of the puzzle."

"Come on, Rafe, that's a stretch." Dane opens a bottle of water and skulls half. "Even if it was true, pulling it out of her would be impossible."

I really don't like the way he says ‘her', there are so many nasty connotations in the way he says it.

"Don't think you can do it?" I taunt.

Dane snaps his head to me. "I'll break you, little girl."

"You can try." I lean back on the couch and lift my chin. "Go ahead."

Dane paces around and sits on the coffee table right in front of me. Rafe gets up and moves away.

"Tell me about the night you saw Terrance."

Pain slashes through me. I hadn't expected him to ask that, and I really should have.

I'm immediately back in my gallery, the smell of coffee and wine, the slinky silver dress and tight shoes pinching my toes. That night is one of my clearest memories. "The gallery opened at eight pm. I had twenty pieces on show, a mix of sculpture and painting. The theme was dreams. He came in half an hour after the show started. I saw him immediately. He had an air, a presence, quiet, commanding." I glance up, and Rafael looks pained. When he sees me watching, he clears his face. "He came towards me slowly. I showed him the art, and he ended up purchasing my favourite."

"What else do you see around you?"

"There are people in suits, women in dresses. Mostly people I don't know, but some I recognise from the art world. Louis isn't there."

"But someone is, someone who doesn't belong. Who is it?"

I frown and shake my head and pause. "No, there's no one that shouldn't be there."

"Yes, there is. Who is it?" Dane growls. "There's a someone who shouldn't be there because when you said who was there, you frowned as you spoke. So, who doesn't belong?"

I go over the image again and again, looking at everyone. "There's a waitress from the coffee shop I go to every morning. But that doesn't mean anything."

Dane leans back and exchanges a long look with Rafael.

"He had women watching her."

Dane nods. "It's how he knew about Terrance."

My stomach lurches, and bile races up my throat. Please, no.

"Where did you go after the show finished?"

"I packed up the piece and carried it to the back door and passed it to Terrance."

"Did anyone see you?"

I shake my head. There was no one around.

He lifts his hand to my cheek, and I can't help the butterflies that explode in my stomach. His touch is warm and so gentle, I want to lean into it. I've never had a connection this quick with someone. It's an all-consuming flame. I can't look at him when he's in the room because if I do, everyone will know how I feel. I gravitate towards him. It's huge and terrifying.

And…Louis.

"I can't do this."

"I know," he murmurs.

"I-" I cut off because it's too hard to speak. I feel like I'm losing something precious.

He presses his lips to mine. It's a quick, passion-filled kiss of regret. When I open my eyes, he's sliding into his car.

I stand there long after it's gone, wondering what it is I just lost.

"What happened to the art?" I ask brokenly.

Dane stands up. "That was the last time Terrance was seen alive. He never made it home. We never found his car or any artwork. We never saw him after he walked out the door to go to your art show."

Dane's speaking, but the words are breaking me. My stomach seizes.

I stand up and edge backwards towards the door. My mouth is dry. The pain is all-consuming. It's my fault. There's blood roaring in my ears. I need to run. I need to get away. Oh, my god, I kissed him and killed him. I may as well have put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

Terrance!

I can't face it. I can't bear it. I turn and leave their home, ignoring Rafael's calls and Dane's surly glare.