Jersey Six(22)

Ian could barely hear him.

“He doesn’t like it when people stare at him. And he lost most of his memory in an accident, so he’s very distrusting.” Jersey lifted her eyebrows, giving Ian a tight-lipped smile.

Drawing in a slow breath, Ian held out his hand to Chris.

Chris ignored it, unblinking as his lips parted a bit. Ian pulled back his hand and slid it into his pocket.

“I see you survived your uh … first night.” Ian scratched his jaw. “If you’re new to this, it’s probably a little overwhelming. Just let Max know if you have any issues.”

Jersey cocked her head to the side, peering up at Chris. Without giving her a single glance, he grabbed her arm, pulled her inside the hotel room, and slammed the door shut.





CHAPTER NINE





Jersey leaned against the inside of the door as Chris rested both hands just above her head, breaths quickening like impending heart failure, or an asthma issue, or maybe even a panic attack. “I’m going to knock you on your ass if you don’t back off. And if you’re dying, nod or give me some sort of signal so I can call for help. Otherwise, you’d better tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

“It’s … him,” he whispered like someone had their hand around his throat.

“Ian Cooper. Rock star. Rich dude … yeah, yeah, so what? I didn’t take you for the type to be starstruck and acting all breathless over someone famous. And he probably shouldn’t have stared so long at you, but it’s hard at first to pretend like you haven’t experienced some serious physical trauma.”

Chris shook his head. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. “It’s him. The one who killed Dena and Charles.”

Jersey’s nose scrunched as she jerked her head back until it bumped the door. “What? No. You’re losing your shit, Chris. I’m patient with you when you have your nightmares or something simple sets you off and you start rambling about the voices in your head. I let your craziness slide, and I even defended you to the guys at Marley’s. But this I’m calling bullshit on. There’s no way Ian was your friend. No way he killed Dena and Charles.” Jersey shoved his chest to get around him.

She sighed, a longing smile stealing her lips at the sight of the bed. A bed …

Grabbing her toothbrush, she squeezed past Chris to get to the bathroom, ignoring his shocked face. After brushing her teeth and peeing, Jersey again passed Chris, who seemed to be frozen in place. She slipped off her shoes and jeans to slide under the sheets.

“Oh … my … god. I’m never leaving this bed.” A contented sigh escaped Jersey’s nose as she tucked the sheets under her chin and closed her eyes.

“Jersey …” Chris’s strained voice held so much pain.

She opened one eye. “Don’t do this. I’ve had the best day. I’m in New York with a full belly and a real bed. Don’t ruin this tonight. We’ll talk in the morning and sort through what you think you know about him. Maybe after you sleep on it, things will be a little more clear for you. Okay? Can we just go to sleep?”

Chris pressed the heels of his hands to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut, releasing an indecipherable grumble. Then he flipped off the lights and crawled into the other bed. After a few minutes, Jersey realized how much she’d grown used to a warm body beside her.

“What are you doing?” Chris asked.

Jersey climbed in bed next to him. He rolled toward her. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to answer him. He pulled her back flush to his chest and rested his chin on top of her head. Always being defensive, alert, and guarded took its toll on her. Jersey never realized, until she met Chris, just how badly she needed to rest from her own demons and surrender to a safe haven.



The following morning, just after five a.m., Jersey slipped out of bed and went for a jog, making a mental note of the room number. A cold blast of frigid air stifled her lungs as she emerged from the revolving door onto the sidewalk. She imagined Manhattan being busier, but then again, it was quite early.

“Good morning.” A uniformed man smiled at Jersey.

“Where’s the nearest park?” she asked.

He chuckled, pointing to his right. “First time here?”

She nodded.

“Well, there’s a great park straight that way. Central Park. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” Jersey jogged in the direction of Central Park. The sidewalks weren’t bustling yet, but she wasn’t the only fitness buff fighting the onset of winter in the park. She sprinted, skipped with high knees, boxed the air, breezed through fifty pushups with her feet elevated on a park bench, and found the Holy Grail of her workout—pull-up bars.

Blowing on her hands and rubbing them together a few times, she jumped up and muscled a quick thirty pull-ups.

“Damn … and I mean d-a-mn!”

Jersey released to the ground, shaking out her hands before blowing warm air on them again while glancing at the broad-chested man with dark skin, black running pants, and a white hoodie.

“I never seen that kind of shit before from someone so small.” He hopped up, clenching the bar next to Jersey. “Now just move along before you make me look bad.”

“If you can’t keep up with me…” she jumped back up and gripped the bar with her hands in the opposite direction to reach a different group of muscles “…then maybe you should move along before I make you look bad. Which … I will.” Jersey shot him a sideways smirk.