Page 27

Chapter Twenty-Six

Quinn

Two weeks later

“You have no idea how many parties I’ve done this at. You don’t stand a chance. What do they do at British parties anyway? Drink tea and talk about the weather?”

“Oh, a Yank thinking she can party harder than a Brit? Cute. Everyone I know was smashing ten pints on a Saturday at sixteen years old.”

Jacob and I are throwing ping-pong balls into red cups. It’s not beer pong—he still only lets me have two beers at a goddamn time—but a bet, with high stakes.

He flicks his ball, and it flies straight into the cup. I watch, dismayed. He made that look far too easy, and I really want to win.

If I win, for the next week, I get to choose all his outfits and all the music we listen to. I’ll drag him into this decade if it fucking kills me.

If he wins, I have to spend the whole week wearing a T-shirt with “Property of Jacob West” written across the front.

It will be bad enough wearing it to visit Candice. But Annie has another party next week, and I’ll die if that’s how I have to dress. I line up my ball, take aim, and launch. It lands in the cup with a satisfying clunk, and I flash a grin at Jacob.

“Let’s see. Salmon pink is very in this season. And I wonder how you’d look in ripped jeans?”

He shudders.

He lines up his ball. Just as he goes to throw, I break into song, belting out Taylor Swift at the top of my lungs. His hand jerks, and the ball shoots off to the left.

“You little brat. That one doesn’t count.”

“Bullshit. We never agreed not to play dirty.”

His eyes narrow, but there’s an amused tilt to his lips. “Oh. Well in that case, game on.”

His phone rings, and he breathes out heavily. “What now?”

He answers, leaving the room to take the call. I quickly place my next ball into the cup. When he comes back, I’ll just tell him I got it in. There aren’t rules against doing that, either.

Fucked up as it seems, life has started to fall into a pattern. Every morning, I spend a couple of hours with Candice. Sometimes the other CIs hang out too. They’re always happy to see me. Candice told me I’m the first friend she’s ever had, and Hadrian chimed in saying I’m the first human in history to have a CI as a friend.

He says they creep most people out. I can’t see why. They’re awesome.

It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever done. Hadrian gave me a VR headset and gloves so I can visit them in their virtual world. They’re building it themselves, and it’s way more detailed than any game I've ever played. They’re even taking suggestions from me about what to add in.

While I’m busy with Candice, Jacob visits his grandad and sister. He also checks in on Marlowe. She’s still sleeping, but the doctors at the new facility are hopeful. It’s something. Our parents—Marlowe’s parents—believe she’s been selected to take part in an experimental study on long-term coma patients. All expenses paid.

I hope it’s helping them deal with the bad news about my “death.” I made Jacob tell me all the details, though apparently Wards don’t usually want to know.

Three days after my capture, my work reported me missing. No one missed me for three days, and even then, it was my employer. Pretty pathetic. Then the Brotherhood put out the story I was lost at sea. I was drinking, went for a late-night swim, and never turned up. It’s exactly the sort of stupid thing I would do, so I’m sure everyone believes it.

I’m dead. Everyone thinks I’m dead. I keep poking at it, waiting for the emotional reaction I’m supposed to have, but it never comes. I’ve been a ghost for the last six months. What difference does being dead really make?

My mom. My dad. The friends I’ve refused to see because I don’t want them asking difficult questions. They’ll be devastated, but with the way things were going, won’t they have been expecting the news? Won’t it almost come as a relief that it’s finally happened?

Maybe I’m kidding myself. But sometimes, it feels like the outside world I’m desperate to get back to doesn’t exist anymore. The crash ended it, and I’ve been in limbo ever since.

Jacob doesn’t trust me to roam the Compound yet. When he collects me from Hadrian’s lab, he takes me to his, and I get in his way and distract Eve until he gets pissed enough to take me back home. It’s become a game. How annoying can I be before he’s had enough?

We’ve been to dinner with Eve, Gabriel, and Sebastian like normal people. I’ve been for coffee with Eve, Annie, and a couple of the other Wards. It’s the weirdest feeling, as if I’m becoming part of a secret club I never signed up for.

The worst part is, sometimes I’m actually happy.

Jacob strides back in, and the look on his face sets me on edge right away. Normally, he’s so collected. Now he looks shaken. “What is it? Bad news?”

“No. Not this time.” He doesn’t even glance at the ball in the cup as he sits down next to me. “It’s Marlowe. They’ve noted eye movement, and she’s made a few sounds. Her eyes have opened for a couple of seconds at a time.”

It’s a glass of water after months in the desert. I latch on to it, letting it wash away some of the filth that’s clung to me since that night. Please. Please let her be okay.

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high, love. It’s a very positive sign but it’s not definitive. And even if she wakes up, we don’t know what life will look like for her after.” His hand grips mine, swallowing it whole. “She’s in the best place to recover, though.”

He’s so earnest. He thinks I’m innocent, a victim just like Marlowe. He doesn’t know. The filthy secret twists in my stomach, squirming like a parasite. I want it out. I need it out.

I couldn’t tell anyone else. But Jacob? He’s no fucking angel. He’s made me his slave. He’s guilty, just like me. Tears come, bubbling out of me in rough sobs at the thought of even saying the words.

Jacob wraps me up tight. His big body is so reassuring. A cuddle from a giant. I shake in his arms as he rubs my back. “Hey. It’s good news, I just didn’t want to make you think it was a done deal. It’s really good news, love.”

The secret is there, a black, poisonous snake, and I vomit it up all at once. “It’s my fault. My fault she got hurt.”

My words are muffled by Jacob’s shoulder, and he loosens his arms, frowning down at me. “What do you mean?”

Now that I’ve started, I can hardly breathe before I’m spilling the words out. “I was drinking, and I drove. It was so fucking stupid. She warned me to slow down, but I ignored her. She went through the windshield, and I lied to the cops. I lied.”

A fresh surge of tears catches up with me, but his arms don’t loosen. He holds me just as tight as he was before I gave up my dirty secret. “I had two prior DUIs, and I panicked. I told them she was driving.”

There it is—the truth. Jacob’s hand twines in my hair, and he just holds me. Tears give way to more muffled words.

“I cut my foster family off after. They’re better off without me. They loved me like I was theirs, and I—”

Sobs catch me again. I focus on the steady rise and fall of Jacob’s chest as I run myself dry. When he speaks, his voice rumbles against my body. “Is that why you started smashing the drugs? Punishing yourself by risking your own life?”

“I just wanted to forget.” It’s true, but maybe not the whole truth. Maybe he’s right. Why do I deserve to live after what I did? “But maybe that too. A bit.”

“Fucking hell, Quinn.” He kisses the top of my head. It’s such an unexpected, gentle move that it jerks me out of my tears for a second, long enough for me to twist my neck up and look Jacob in the face.

There’s no judgment there, just a creased brow and soft lines of worry at the corners of his eyes. His frown deepens as he wipes a tear from my face with one rough finger.

“I’ve done bad shit too. Much worse than that. I’m not going to tell you it’s easy to live with, but it does get better. And you know what else?”

I wait as he pauses, seeming to hunt for the right words. “You telling the lie didn’t make a blind bit of difference. Her outcome would have been the same. But you being here? That’s made all the difference. If things keep going the right direction, there’s a good chance she’s going to be okay. And that’s thanks to you.”

I snort. “Right. My great contribution. Getting kidnapped by mistake.”

“Shut the fuck up and actually listen.” There’s the very edge of his take no shit tone in those words, though he’s still stroking my head. It’s an odd combination that makes me melt into him, my body relaxing for what feels like the first time ever. Telling him has helped. The black crust around my heart is still there, but it’s thinner. There’s a bit of light getting in.

I keep quiet and wait. “We took your freedom. It wasn’t your choice, but it’s happened. And because of that, Marlowe has a chance. However you want to think of being here—paying a price, serving a sentence, whatever—it’s helping her. If you were rotting in a prison cell, you wouldn’t be helping her at all.”

It’s a neat way to look at things, designed to soothe a guilty conscience. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Serving my sentence.

The phrase scratches at my nerves. Jacob said it, practical man that he is, without any self pity. He’s been painfully blunt from day one that I’m his captive, never trying to sugarcoat this into something it isn’t. I respect him for it. But at the same time, hearing him talk as if he’s my penalty doesn’t feel quite right.

His forest-green eyes study me closely. Following a strange urge, I reach up and touch his face. His eyes widen as I trace the strong outline of his jaw, up to his lips. I want to make him smile again. There’s something about making this stern man smile that’s just so satisfying.

“As prisons go, I’m not sure how I’d rate this one.”

“Really? Do explain. I’m dying to hear this.”

No smile yet, but there’s one waiting there, right under the surface. I can feel it. “The food is great, and the grounds are pretty. Entertainment is top-notch. They even have a very attractive warden.”

“Sounds more like a holiday camp than a prison, if you ask me.”

“The rules are over the top, though. And don’t get me started on the cavity searches. Every damn day, there’s one.”

“Sounds like the sort of thing you’d enjoy.”

His lip curves up, and I snuggle into him, feeling like I’ve had a win. Each breath feels easier, lighter, and less tainted by guilt. It’s still there, of course, but maybe it could get easier. With a bit more time.

***

Two hours later, I’ve lost the game of not quite beer pong and am staring at myself in the mirror. “I’m not wearing this tonight.”

Jacob’s brow raises slightly. Always a sign of trouble. “You lost the bet.”

“I know, but I can’t wear it tonight. It’s a formal fucking dinner! I’ve got my dress picked out.”

“Wrong. You gave me your opinion on what you’d like to wear. It’s my decision, and you’re wearing this. A deal is a deal. Don’t tell me you’d have let me get away with anything less than a salmon-pink shirt if you’d won.”

Dammit. He’s right, of course. I had one at the ready. “At least that would have been appropriate, though. I look—”

“Fucking beautiful, as always.”

Not the word I’d choose. When we made the bet, I’d imagined Jacob would just scrawl the words on a shirt with a marker. I should have known better. The little white crop top has a large black logo made to look like a stamp. The words “Property of Jacob West” are printed in army-style letters, like you’d see printed on an ammo box in a video game.

The effect is retro, quite cool, and completely humiliating, especially when everyone else is going to be in black tie. Jacob has paired it with a tiny mini skirt. Always his favorite outfit. At least this time, he’s let me wear real panties. They’re bright pink and will show as soon as I bend over.

He touches the edge of the stamp. “I think this will be your tattoo.”

I stare at the logo, imagining it inked into my skin forever. It sends a little shiver through me, a mix of horror and something else. A pull that has me wondering whether he’ll let me orgasm tonight. He didn’t yesterday. The bastard.

“You like that idea?” His voice has softened, and there’s curiosity on his face. I have the very strong sense he wants me to say yes—not that he’d listen if I said no. I don’t answer right away, staring at the design.

I don’t know what I’d been imagining, but this isn’t it. I can’t say I hate it, though. The simplicity of it suits Jacob and feels right. “If you’d ended up with Suzy, what would you have picked?”

I’m endlessly curious about Suzy and what she meant to him. He told me her parents are abusive and have her locked into some fucked-up contract, taking most of her wages from the hospital so she can barely afford to live. I had no idea, too wrapped up in my own issues to wonder why a nurse lived in the same shithole as me.

I asked him to send her some cash to get away, and he did. I like to imagine her tanning on a beach somewhere, giving no fucks about the assholes left behind.

Am I jealous? Maybe. A bit. How fucked up is that? Not jealous because she’s free, but because she’s the girl he wanted to kidnap. What the hell is wrong with me?

Jacob gives me a wry smile in the mirror. “A caged bird, but with the door open. A symbol of willing submission. Don’t think it would suit you.”

Flat and British as always, but there’s affection there too, underneath. It warms something inside me. Fuck, what’s got me so emotional? It must be the good news about Marlowe.

I whip around and try to slap Jacob in the face.

As he has every single other time, he catches my wrist in his death grip. It feels like I’ll never win this game, but maybe one day, I’ll catch him off guard. He yanks my arm behind my back, lifting me so I’m forced onto my tiptoes.

“Try that one more time, and you can lose the bra and sit through this dinner with your little nipples poking through that top.”

He is absolutely not kidding, and by the way his hand roams up my body to cup my breast, he’s hoping I’ll give him an excuse. God-fucking-dammit. I can’t win with this guy. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave.”

He snorts. “For this five seconds.”

He releases me, and I tug my top into place. He grips my hand and steers me toward the door. Without looking at me, he says, “You know what? Taking Suzy would have been a massive cock-up. I’d have been bored as all fuck.”

I freeze, and he tugs me onward. “Come on. We’ve got this stupid dinner to get to.”

His words rattle in my head as I follow him out the door.