Blood in the Water(70)

Byron was moved by Juliet’s story and tear-stained face, but he shook his head.

“We have to handle this legally. Valentine will have his day in court and so will you. And Mr. Jessup can have a chance at his freedom too.”

“Spare me the Pollyanna routine. This thing won’t end in a courtroom. Oscar is a serial killer. The only way he gets stopped is with a bullet. God, I wish I’d finished what I started. I had the knife, and he was too shocked to move. I should’ve kept going.” Her mouth twisted. “I would’ve saved the world a lot of pain.”

Juliet stood.

“If you call the FBI and—”

“No, I can’t and I won’t. If we go the legal route, I’ll endanger the club. Romeo’s speculatin’ on what might’ve happened, but this would give him proof and the brothers would handle it. And don’t even think of tryin’ any dirty tricks on me. If they haul me in for questionin’, I’ll deny every goddamn detail.” She drained the rest of her beer and tossed it into the trash can so hard it shattered.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now. Why don’t you take a day and think about it? We’ll meet tomorrow morning for coffee and talk some more then?”

Byron was used to talking people into things. A delicate balance between pressure and breathing room was needed to secure her cooperation.

“No, I’m not gonna change my mind.”

“Just coffee. You aren’t makin’ any promises, you’re only agreein’ to a hot beverage. Okay?”

She shook her head.

“Please?” Byron raised his brows, using every ounce of his charisma.

Juliet sighed. “Fine. We’ll have coffee, but don’t get your hopes up.”

“Good. You live at the hotel, right?”

“Yeah, on the second floor.”

“We’ll meet you in the lobby at nine?” He glanced at Jane, who nodded.

“Whatever.”

And then she ran off like Valentine was chasing right after. Maybe he had been all of these years. The serial killer must have a starring role in all of Juliet’s nightmares.

Like Buckley haunted his own dreams.

Jane got to her feet. “This has to work, it has to.”

He could read the relief on her face. She’d found a way out of the mess without sacrificing any of her morals.

Byron doubted it’d end all neat and tidy, tucked away. In his experience, life had a way of pissing all over people’s grand plans. Most things ended with a big mess.

But it’d be nice if he was wrong. For once.





Chapter Seventeen



Later that night, the sound of a glass clinking woke Jane up from a dead sleep.

Jane blearily focused on her surroundings. She couldn’t see much without her spectacles, so she put them on and sat up in bed.

A couple of candles were blazing on the table illuminating Byron. He scratched his chin, and the whiskers made a raspy sound, like a cat’s tongue.

“Sorry to wake you, darlin’. Don’t worry, I can still shoot straight if I have to. I built up a tolerance level over the years.” Byron sat on a chair, drinking straight from the bottle. He was bare-chested, and his pants were half undone. “Shoulda brought some moonshine with me.”

“You can’t sleep?” Jane sat in the chair opposite him. She rubbed her eyes and yawned as she tried to wake up. The room was chilly, so she pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them to keep warm.

“Not a goddamn wink. Want some?” Byron lifted the bottle, but she shook her head.

Enough is enough.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think you need to. What happened with your mother?”

Byron took a long pull on the whiskey and didn’t answer her for the longest time. “Why the hell not? I’m drunk enough to tell you tonight.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where do I start?”

“At the beginning.”

He took a deep breath. “Leadin’ up to her murder, my parents were fightin’ a lot. I only overheard snatches of their arguments at the time. The walls weren’t thick enough to block out all the shoutin’.” His mouth twisted. “And my father liked to settle disagreements with his fists.”

“Buckley beat your mother?”

Byron nodded tightly. “Ain’t no excuse for hittin’ a woman. I honestly don’t blame her for steppin’ out on him, and neither one of them were faithful. Buckley was looser than ashes in the wind. You’d be hard pressed to find a woman he wasn’t screwin’.”

“Why?” It wasn’t in her realm of experience. Jane’s relationships had been infrequent and fast, but she’d always been monogamous.