JACK: Las Vegas Bad Boys(44)
I know the color has drained from my face because, damn, there’s no rulebook for this sort of confession.
“I don’t want to pull away right now, and make you feel alone,” I tell her, as steadily as possible. “But, Tess, what are talking about?”
She takes my hands from her face. “No, I’m sorry. I never should have told you. I knew it was a bad idea to let myself fall for you and your family. I should never have come. I should never have let you bring me here. I should have run when I had the chance.”
“Stop it,” I tell her, holding her by the shoulders. “Stop. You’re here because my ex-girlfriend took revenge on us in a way she didn’t realize would endanger you. You’re here because I love you and I swore I’d protect you. Now tell me the story and start from the top. Because, girl, I imagined a million horrible scenarios with you and that biker gang, but I never imagined the one you just shared.”
She wipes her eyes with trembling hands. “It’s probably just like you imagined, only worse.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“Jack, that’s the understatement of the century.”
“If it was self-defense, tell me that. Just tell me what happened.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Jack, you’ll never look at me the same way.”
“Is that so bad? Is it so bad for me to see you the way you really are? Give me the chance to prove you wrong. Give me the chance to love the real you.”
“Damn it, Jack, stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop being perfect,” she says, pulling away from me, standing to get her distance. “Stop being everything I ever dreamed a man could be. Stop saying the right thing and being in the right place and not once looking down at me or judging me or wishing me away. Stop loving me.”
“Why?” I stand, refusing to let her run. Refusing to let her walk away in fear when I want nothing more than to love her and fuck her and hold her tight. “You don’t want my love because you don’t think you deserve it. Well, fuck that. We’re here, on the shore, under the goddamned stars, a thousand miles from your problems. We’re in it together already—so, damn it, you don’t get to walk away now.”
I pull her to me, and I kiss her hard.
I kiss her so she knows I mean it. So she knows I’m not a fucking pussy who runs when things are hard. I’m a goddamned man. Her man. And she needs to believe me when I say it.
“Tell me what happened, Tess.”
“Jack, I killed her,” she cries. “I took a gun and pointed it at my father and she blocked the shot. She did. She let herself take the fall for him. For a monster.”
“Oh, girl.” I pull her into my arms. “Tess, shhh, it’s okay.”
“It’s not,” she sobs into my chest. “I never meant to kill her. I meant to kill him. And he knows that. He knows who I meant that shot for. And he wants revenge.”
“We can tell the police; you did nothing wrong.”
“Yes, I did,” she says emphatically. “I lied about weapons to the FBI. There was an investigation the summer I turned nineteen. I covered my Dad’s tracks; I falsely testified. I could go to prison for that, Jack.”
“Why did you lie?”
“Because I was a fool. Because I was afraid. Because I was weak. My father told me what I needed to do, and I did it. Without thinking. Without considering the repercussions.”
“You were fucking brainwashed, Tess. No one will hold you liable.”
“Sure, they won’t,” she says, looking up at me. “That’s easy to believe until someone asks how your mother died. Until you have to admit you took a gun that wasn’t yours and you pulled the trigger. And you shot your mother in the head.”
“Why did you want to kill him? What did he do to push you over the edge?”
“After the investigation, the guys got so intense, so firm with everyone. I begged Mom to help me leave. I really thought she would. I was her only child and she loved me fiercely, always said she’d do anything to keep me. But I don’t think she was well—in her head, I mean. I think she should have been hospitalized. But I don’t know what came first. Her being crazy or her being a hostage to my dad, too.”
“None of this is your fault, Tess. There’s no reason to run.”
“You don’t understand. Even if I go to the cops, and say all this, and they decide I used self-defense—which, honestly, it wasn’t. No one was trying to kill me. They just wanted me to be their prostitute. Even if they call that self-defense, it still doesn’t mean I’m safe. Do you know how many bikers are in Anarchy?”