Bane (Sinners of Saint #4)(87)

I squeezed the doorjamb, slanting my head to the side as I watched him like a photographer studying his subject to get a perfect angle. Like a sniper ready to shoot straight to the heart.

“We need to talk, and you better save me the whole lisp charade, because I don’t have time for this bullshit. It’s about Jesse.”

He shook his head then raised it, his eyes meeting mine. I’ve never seen more tears and snot on a human face. “I messed it up. It’s over, Bane.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but if it was as bad as he looked, we had a problem.

“We need to fix this shit, man. We’ve both been assholes, but she wasn’t. So let’s come up with a—”

“Leave, Bane.” He cut me off mid-sentence.

“Not before we help her.”

“Jesse’s done. I’m done. We’re all done.”

What was he talking about, done? Had he mistaken humans for steaks? I also resented the hopeless narrative he’d given us. We weren’t done. Maybe he was. As for her and me? Jury was still out on that one.

“Do you know where she is?” He looked up, a sliver of hope passing in his eyes.

I gripped the molding above his door, my triceps flexing. “Somewhere safe.”

“Where?”

“I’m sorry. Were you not awake for the past forty-eight hours? Why would I tell you anything that is not go fuck yourself?” I chuckled bitterly. “Now, tell me what she knows so we can clean this shit up.”

The more I knew, the better I could prepare for my conversation with Jesse.

But Darren just shook his head again—his signature move—and sighed. “She knows everything about everything. Which means that it is over for me.”

There was a lot I didn’t understand, and Darren looked about as cooperative and conversational as a fucking dildo-shaped candle. I wanted to slam his head against his desk until he gave me all the answers I needed, but it was futile. Dude was not making sense.

“I’m going to make it right,” I said.

“It’s too late.” Some more headshaking. This asshole was about to break some boring Guinness record, and no one was here to give a shit. I darted down the stairs, back to the front gate and to my Harley, leaving Pam to run after me down the street in her little satin nightgown and yelling, “Whatever Jesse thinks she knows, tell her that I didn’t know anything about it.”

Whatever the hell that meant. As I said before—Jesse got all her wit and intelligence from Artem. This bitch had merely been a nine-month incubator. And when Jesse was born, she took away all of Pam’s beauty and brains. Was it a wonder that Snow White’s mother was such a devil?

I drove straight to Gail from there. I knew better than to try to convince my employee to let me in and see Jesse. Besides, I needed to start thinking about what was best for Jesse, and even I recognized that she didn’t need to see me right now. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t text her. So I did that, just to cover all my bases.



Bane

You have to believe me when I say I didn’t know about Artem. I had no idea.

I would never keep something like this from you, Jesse. Ever.



Bane

Yeah, I signed a contract. But that was before. Before us. Before you. Before everything. I thought I was helping both of us. Then I got to know you and SurfCity didn’t matter anymore.



Bane

You mattered. You MATTER. You’re the only thing that matters, Snowflake. I went to Darren with the intention of telling him the deal was off. He dropped the Artem bomb on me that same day.



Bane

I’ll be outside of Gail’s place if you want to talk.



No pressure, right?

I took a few power naps on Gail’s front stairs, then at six in the morning was awakened by Beck’s text messages and phone calls. Reluctantly, I dragged my ass back home to take a shower. I needed another shave, and I needed not to deal with anything that wasn’t Jesse-related. I shot Beck a quick text.



Bane

Can’t train today.



Beck

Fuckinghateyoubro.



I washed my hair and shaved, generally making sure I resembled a real human being, then hit the road back to Gail’s. I knew she had a shift, so that left Jesse alone. I rapped on the door as softly as humanly possible, and when she didn’t answer, decided the next best thing to do was to climb into the apartment through Gail’s window. Again—you should know better than to find the logic in that. I just had a bad hunch things were a little shittier than the usual my-boyfriend-is-a-shithead.

Don’t get me wrong—Jesse had every reason to be mad at me. Furious, even. But her reaction suggested something more was happening.

I padded toward Gail’s room in ground-eating strides and found Snowflake lying in bed, her arm flung over a pillow, staring blankly at the clock on the nightstand. I took a step deeper into the room, making myself known. She didn’t move.

“Hi,” I said.

She didn’t answer.

“I got you your check.”

Nothing.

“Look, I fucked up…”

“Leave.” Her voice was cold. I pressed my forehead against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Not before we talk.”