Jersey Six(39)

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head. “We didn’t have sex.”

“Then why would she say that to me?”

“I don’t know.”

Max coughed a laugh. “You don’t know? So there’s a zero percent chance that she’s pregnant with your baby? A zero percent chance that you’ve contracted an STD from her?”

“Correct.”

“Then fire her, Ian. Fire her before she walks out of this hotel to a crowd of paparazzi and tells them she’s pregnant with your baby. This isn’t you. If it’s sex, Ian, we’ll find someone to meet your needs without the—”

“Jesus, Max …” He shook his head, eyes squinted. “No. I don’t need you to hire someone to have sex with me. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Ian …” Max exhaled, releasing her posture into a slump of defeat. “Why this girl? Don’t get me wrong, I like her. She’s a hard worker. She’s feisty. Refreshingly uncensored at times. And I catch glimpses of her looking at you like your hand personally hung the moon in her favorite bedtime story. But I don’t see the appeal from your lenses. Out of millions of women … why her?”

The answer should have been simple, and when he saw Jersey at the hot dog stand in Newark, it felt simple.

Fated.

A chance to right wrongs.

As the weeks passed by, the answers became more complicated. Motives blurred. Reality twisted and tangled good intentions into a mess.

A dangerous mess.

“I know what I’m doing.”

“You do?” Max’s head canted to the side.

Ian nodded.

He had no idea what he was doing. But he felt no need to burden Max with that truth. She was right.

“Do I need to talk to her?”

Ian shook his head.

“Do I need to get her pregnancy tests? Condoms and a STD test for you?”

Another headshake.

“Did you donate a kidney to this girl?”

Ian tilted his head, refocusing on the television as a tiny grin stole his lips. Max grumbled and pivoted on an eye roll before leaving his hotel room.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN





Jersey sat in on a few meals with Ian, Max, and Shane while Ian healed from their little dispute. Other than the occasional prolonged, expressionless glance, Ian never spoke to her. Max kept the conversation focused on business.

After the Chicago concert, Chris found Jersey and tugged the back of her shirt. She whipped around, not fond of anyone touching her. He gave her a sad smile. She mirrored his sadness, and after a minute or so, she stepped into his embrace.

If revenge could be intimate, then separation felt torturous.

“Cash. I got paid in cash because I don’t have a real identity,” he mumbled, resting his cheek on her head.

Jersey nodded. She, too, received an envelope of cash earlier that day after Max confirmed that Jersey didn’t know her social security number or have a bank account.

“What are we doing?” Chris pulled back and met her eyes.

She knew what he meant. Were they just working because that was the only job they had, or was there a purpose to the coincidence—to Chris’s claims about Ian?

“It might have been him.” Jersey frowned. “He’s too …” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain, but he’s hiding something from me. I can feel it. I can see it in his eyes. It’s guilt and something else I can’t quite figure out. Anger? Resentment? I don’t know. But I’m afraid to mention Dena’s and Charles’s names, and—” She watched some of the crew squeeze past them.

Chris nodded toward the other hallway. She followed him into the dimly lit area.

“People don’t like to keep this shit to themselves.” Chris leaned close to her so no one could hear him. “The guilt. It’s too much. He’s dying to tell someone. He has to be. All these years of keeping it to himself, there’s no way it’s not taking its toll. You … he’ll tell you. But he has to trust you more than anyone else. You have to gain his trust, Jers.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to do that. I’ve tried to get close to him. He pushes me away.”

“He’s a guy. Crawl into his bed. Suck his dick.”

Jersey scowled.

Chris held up his hands. “I’m not pimping you out to a murderer. I’m giving you a chance for revenge. Don’t look at me like I’ve offended you, like you’re too goody-goody for the job. I’ve seen where you live, how you bathe, the dumpsters where you find food … it’s called survival, and you damn well know it.”

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she averted her gaze. “For your information, I’ve tried to crawl into his bed. He dismissed me.”

“Because you didn’t suck his dick.”

“Not my thing.”

Chris grinned. “It’s not any woman’s thing. It’s not supposed to be. It’s a guy’s thing.”

“Then you suck his dick.”

Chris shrugged. “Statistically, he’s most likely going to want you to do it, but if you try and he stays limp in your mouth, let me know. I’ll see what I can do.”