Hottest Mess (S.I.N. #2)(80)

Frustrated, he glanced toward the door, wondering now if he’d made the wrong choice again by not following her. He was trying to give her space, but already the gap between them was too wide. He needed her beside him. And, dammit, he was certain she needed him.

As if in evidence to the thought, his cellphone pinged, the tone signaling a text from Jane. He snatched it up, praying she wanted him to meet her somewhere.

But when he opened the text, it was as if he’d been punched in the gut.

His knees gave out, and he fell to the ground, the phone tumbling from his hands.

It didn’t matter. The picture was burned in his mind.

Jane, her face bruised and battered.

And on the sidewalk next to her was an all-too-familiar carnival mask.

The Woman.

And now she had Jane.