Jet (Marked Men, #2)(62)

She didn’t say anything, but I noticed her hands tighten on the steering wheel and I would have given anything to know what was going on inside that overly complicated mind of hers.

“I bet you a million dollars my dad is behind it. He’s pissed that we have to go to court, that I just didn’t give in and give him what he wanted. This is probably his way of getting back at me and for once it’s pretty damn effective.”

“You have security cameras?” The question sounded strained.

“Yeah. That equipment is expensive and the instruments are top of the line, plus I sometimes have other bands’ gear stored there so I always try to keep it safe. Why?”

She wouldn’t look at me but her mouth was pulled in a frown that looked like it hurt. I almost wanted to forget the cops and make her drive us somewhere quiet and secluded so I could force her to talk to me, but that wasn’t realistic. She shrugged and continued to worry her lip.

“Just asking. I didn’t realize how much it was all worth.”

I blew out a long breath and shoved the heels of my hands into my eye sockets.

“It’s not just some hobby, some band that I jam with on the weekends. It’s my job, my livelihood, Ayd. Of course I took steps to protect it.”

We lapsed into a tense silence. I didn’t know what to say to her, and I was too wrapped up in all the nasty stuff swirling under my skin that I didn’t want to lash out and make whatever was going on worse. When we pulled up in front of the studio, the building was lined with cop cars, and all the guys in the band were standing out front looking both pissed and frustrated. I put my hand on the handle of the door and flinched when her soft hand landed on my arm before I could climb out of the Jeep. Those topaz-colored eyes were as hard as the precious stones they resembled, and I knew before she said anything that whatever waited for me in that studio was going to be nowhere near as devastating as whatever she was going to say next.

“I’m so sorry, Jet. Whatever this is or isn’t, I can’t do it. This . . . It just isn’t working for me anymore. It doesn’t feel like a moment-to-moment thing anymore and I can’t handle that.”

I could have made it easy on her, just let it go. After all, we weren’t in a relationship, but I was feeling raw and split open and she had some f*cking badass timing to pull this now. I narrowed my eyes at her and shook her hand off.

“Yeah right, Ayd. You should be sorry for the simple fact that I can get you off and a douche bag in a sweater vest can’t.”

I saw her grimace, and she whispered my name like I had hit her. I held up a hand and shoved the door open.

“Just don’t. Don’t tell me whatever reason you managed to cook up after last night, because whatever it is, we both know the real reason, the real problem is that you won’t even entertain the idea of letting me in. That’s just f*cked up because I could have fallen in love with you. Hell, I probably already did. I have shit to take care of, so I guess I’ll see you around.”

She didn’t say my name again, and I didn’t look back, but I sure as hell took massive amounts of pleasure in slamming the door shut behind me hard enough to make the entire machine rock on its chassis. Von and Catcher walked over to me, and I refused to look over my shoulder when she pulled out of the parking lot. There was a hole in my chest that Ayden had left behind. Her rejection creating a wide-open place for all that fire and burning emotion I tried so hard to control to escape from. The irony was that the only person who had ever offered any relief from the heat, and any escape from the blaze, was the one who had ripped it open and released it all. Ripped it open and left it gaping, for all that awful venom to flow into the world.

We spent hours trying to put a list together of all the lost gear for the police. They pulled the security footage and I told them not to be surprised if the image of the thief was my dad. I told them I wanted whatever charge they could come up with pressed against him. The rest of the band was stressed out and were getting on my already frayed nerves, so I shooed them off with a promise to take care of everything while I waited for the insurance adjuster.

It sucked having time to turn things over and over in my head. I had known the deal with Ayden wasn’t a permanent thing, but I still felt like she had pulled my heart out of my chest and handed it back to me after deciding she had no use for it. Moment to moment my ass, it was more than that, always had been, and I never should have let her distract me from having that conversation in the car the night before. I wasn’t sure why her switch had flipped so suddenly; all I knew was that it hurt and I felt like she had pulled further away from me than she’d ever been.

It wasn’t fair to either of us. There had been so much tension, so much attraction, that I should have known all along that just sex was never going to work out between us. But something told me that if all those months ago, I had just taken her up on her offer, I wouldn’t be in this mess now. If I had gotten her when those defenses were down, there was a chance I could have gotten under the wall before she built it back up. Now it was too late, and I was just going to have to focus on figuring out the current mess and act like yet another woman I cared so much about hadn’t picked something else in life besides me.

By the time the adjuster finally showed up, I had worked myself up into a state of vibrating rage. I was pretty sure the guy was terrified to walk into the empty building with me, but considering it was his job, he didn’t have a choice. All that was left of my gleaming and shining equipment was a tangle of useless black cords and the swivel chair I sat on in the booth. The pictures of the band and the posters used to decorate the walls hung haphazardly and a lone Coors Light can was on its side, leaking onto the floor. The studio was empty and hollow and looked like a dump, and totally reflected how I was feeling inside.