Lovegame(113)

“Fuck you!” he shouts as he lunges across the table at me. “You pansy ass little bitch. Everything you’ve got, you’ve got because of me. You f*cking owe me. You f*cking owe me.”

I stand up then, making sure to stay well within his reach so he knows that I’m not afraid of him. So that he knows that I don’t give a shit about his threats. “Maybe I do. But that just sucks more for you, brother. Because we both know you’re never going to be able to collect. You’re going to be in here for the rest of your sad, miserable little life and I’m going to be out there, living the life you think you should have had. So which one of us is the pansy ass little bitch, now?”

He goes for my throat, but the guard is there, yanking him down, ordering me to get out even as he slaps restraints on Jason.

I go, with Jason’s curses raining down on my head and his words echoing through my soul.

I keep it together long enough to collect my license and car key, and then I’m fumbling with the door and all but falling outside in my haste to get away.

Once I’m outside, I bend over at the waist.

Brace my hands on my knees.

Suck in a few deep breaths of fresh, clean air…just because I can. Just because I’m not locked in a cage. Just because I’m not Jason.

Fuck. Just f*ck. I wanted to kill him for even saying Veronica’s name. Wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until he couldn’t talk anymore. Until he couldn’t call her any more ugly names. Until he couldn’t imagine any more ugly things to do to her.

I shut him down, but not soon enough. His words still swim in my head—every nasty, gleeful description of what he imagines I’d do to her. I hate that he’s right, hate that he knows me well enough to see what no one else can. Hate even more that there’s a side of me that so closely resembles him—the same side that did to Veronica all those things he said and more.

Is it any wonder she kicked me out of her life? Any wonder she wants nothing to do with me? I might not be the monster my brother is, but I’m far from innocent.

Nausea swims through me, but I force myself to stand up. Force myself to start the walk to the back of the parking lot where I left my car.

I make it two rows before I’m bent double again. Only this time I’m dry heaving, my whole body revolting against what just happened. Against what he said and what I did.

I don’t like to be cruel, but I was cruel to him.

I don’t like to use my training against anyone, but I used it against him without compunction or impunity.

He was right when he’d called it survival of the fittest because when I was in there, all I could think about was making sure that he didn’t break me. Making sure he didn’t tear down all the walls I’ve spent so long building and destroy me completely.

So I used every weapon I had…and I broke him instead.

I feel no pleasure at the realization, just like I feel no pleasure in what I did. I did it because it was necessary, because I had to protect myself against the poison he so determinedly spreads. But I didn’t like it.

I’ll never like it, never revel in it. Not in the way he would—and does.

And that’s when it hits me. That’s when I finally realize what I should have figured out a long time ago.

I’m not like Jason. And I never will be.

It’s a stunning realization for the guy who has spent his entire life running from his brother’s violent legacy. He wasn’t wrong when he said that so much of who I am, so much of what I’ve done, is because I didn’t want to be like him.

I did study psychology because I wanted to understand who he is and why he’s made the choices he has. I did join the FBI because I saw a darkness in myself and wanted to make sure I’d never do what he did. I do write the books I do because I want to measure myself against diseased minds and know that I am winning the war I’ve been waging against myself for my entire adult life.

But was it a war I even needed to fight? Or was it just an excuse to never let myself get close to anyone?

Fuck. Just f*ck.

I hurt Veronica so badly, though it was never what I intended. Worse, I let her push me away instead of fighting for her because I was terrified of who I might be and what I might eventually do if we stayed together. She brings out so much in me—too much, I think sometimes. Walking away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I did it because she asked me to and I thought it was the right thing to do. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was exactly the opposite of what she needs?

Because in listening to her, in letting her push me away because I was afraid to hurt her any more, I left her all alone in the middle of hell. I tore down her walls, ripped her wide open, and then left her all alone to fend for herself because I was afraid I was too weak to give her what she needs without falling prey to my own darkness.

I was so afraid of becoming the monster that Jason is that I became another monster all together. One who destroyed a woman because he was too weak to fight for her.

Goddamn it. I really am the pansy ass little bitch that Jason called me. And Veronica deserves so much more.





Chapter 32


I open the small clutch my assistant pressed into my hand seconds before I climbed into the limo and pull out the small compact she always makes sure is inside. I open it up, then tilt it this way and that so I can check my hair, my makeup, my teeth. Then I angle it down a little so I can check the top of my dress, too, just to make sure all that styling tape my stylist used is doing its job and keeping my very daring bodice exactly where it belongs.