Page 51 of Last Breath (Blood Wine Dynasty #2)

Jett

‘They got it.’

‘The footage from the dash cam?’ Jett asked.

‘Yup.’ The beads of sweat on Grey’s forehead matched his own, but neither of them relented.

Jett was going to miss these pre-dawn passive-aggressive competitive lifting sessions at the Bindi Body Barn – a business name coined to suggest an establishment where one could sculpt an ideal physique, not, as it more obviously suggested, a corpse storage facility.

‘Max must be thrilled.’

‘She’s not letting herself hope until it’s official.

After the hearing tomorrow she’ll go over all the legalities with Nella to make sure it’s by the book, by the letter , before taking it to the police.

My forensics contact did the comparison unofficially, so if we want Forrest convicted for the murders of Poppy Raven and Libby Johnston, we’ll need it on the record. ’

They fell silent as they inclined their treadmills. Greyson’s idea of a cooldown was something most mortals would consider a gruelling Iron Man workout.

‘I don’t get it.’ Jett’s words came out sporadically through desperate breaths.

Grey glanced over at him, barely puffing. ‘The footage is time-stamped twenty seconds after Forrest injects the wine on the store’s security camera. He didn’t bother to disguise himself in front of his own car, and he’s got the same clothes, same—’

‘Not that,’ Jett wheezed. He slowed the treadmill so he could speak.

‘I don’t ... understand ... why Ariana suddenly gave up her fiancé like that .

.. Why risk Matteo finding out? We all know what he’s capable of doing .

.. or ordering someone else to do ...

to a traitor? The buck wouldn’t stop at his own daughter.

’ He took a sip of water. ‘And he’s made it clear Forrest is basically family. They wouldn’t survive the scandal of—’

‘Of Forrest being convicted of murder,’ Grey cut in, nodding. ‘It could invalidate the whole La Marca v Barbarani case.’

Whatever had forced Ariana’s hand had to be something that terrified her more than her father and the threat of ostracism from her family.

Jett wanted to confess everything to Grey – tell him his concerns about what Avery said about his fiancée’s accident, about what happened with Nella at the law ball and in Italy, what was going on in his mind every time he closed his eyes, how every time he thought about leaving and never seeing her again it was like someone was pulling out his intestines with rusty, serrated tongs.

But he couldn’t. He knew he needed to cut and run now, before it got worse. Telling Grey would only speed that up.

‘She ready for today?’ Grey asked.

‘I’ve barely seen her since we got back.’

‘Everything all right with you two?’

Jett didn’t look at him. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

Grey stayed silent. Which was worse than anything he could have said.

They fell into silence once again, focusing on the run – or jog, in Jett’s case. ‘That yours or mine?’ Grey asked as a dull ring Jett had barely registered disrupted the tranquility of their thundering shoes against the treadmill belts.

‘Mine’s in the car.’

‘It’s Tom.’ Grey slowed a little and held the phone up to the roof. ‘That didn’t ring long enough, did it?’

‘Could he have had an epiphany mid-dial that you’re not their butler anymore?’

‘You mean fixer.’

‘Which is just a butler with a gun.’

Grey slowed his treadmill to a stop. ‘I better call him back. Reception’s shit out here.

I’ll do it in the car, said I’d be home before sun-up – like a child.

’ He rolled his eyes but Jett knew nothing pleased Grey more than the knowledge that there was someone waiting for him back home. ‘You coming?’

‘Nah, I’ll finish.’ Maybe Jett would have more success at reshelving the things in his mind into the attic and finding the ones that were evading him, without Grey’s annoying ch, ch, ch breathing.

He pushed on long after Grey’s headlights swung out of the makeshift car park at the gym.

His shirt stuck to his back and his shoes rubbed uncomfortably against his ankles.

If he could just let his mind wander, maybe he’d stumble across whatever it was hiding just out of reach.

Thankfully the secluded, exclusive gym was hardly ever occupied and never this early.

The endorphins from running came close to the ones he got from extreme sports.

They weren’t as sharp, but they were addictive all the same. Still a rush.

The sun had just started to yawn its light over the tops of the trees as he made his way outside. Twenty-four-hour access keys meant no one had to man the desk, so Jett was completely alone as the cool air blew over his swampy gym-skin.

He thought he saw something move in his periphery as the shadowy dawn swallowed him deeper. But there were hundreds of nocturnal creatures out in the bushes at this time – he was probably being watched by thousands of tiny eyes, that’s all.

He’d left his phone in the car because he didn’t want the reminder that Nella hadn’t messaged.

Until now, he’d never had to think about messaging her.

It was just something he did, like breathing.

But now everything was loaded. Every word he sent had the potential to be flipped over and analysed for a double meaning.

Any form of nicety twisted into a disgusting come-on.

But this silence was a rod through his brain.

He would do it. He would end the stalemate.

He’d send an inconsequential GIF, something from Brooklyn 99 or Schitt’s Creek .

But nothing with couples who everyone knew were going to end up together.

It was probably that decision that tunnelled his vision, obscured his periphery and meant that when the shadow leapt out from the darkness of the trees, he didn’t realise anything was amiss until it was too late.

THUNK.

Loose bitumen went up his nose as blinding pain splintered though his jaw. The body on top of him dug its knees into his back and knuckles rammed into his cheek.

‘You threatened her.’

Raphael .

Boot leather into rib. Jett tried to breathe the metallic air choking in his throat. ‘I ...’

‘Yes? Yes, Mr Randall? Is there something you wish to say in your defence, or would you prefer to wait for your slut of a lawyer to speak on your behalf? I can get her here, easily, but I can’t guarantee she’ll still have full use of her tongue once I’m—’

Jett was no longer exhausted from Grey’s workout.

Raphael’s threat unleashed the festering adrenaline always lying dormant under his skin, the gift his dropkick parents had left for him, waiting for release.

He twisted – a snake on a stick – and caught the surprise in Raphael’s dark eyes as he launched himself off the ground. ‘Don’t you fucking touch her.’

‘I should have shot her in the pretty little face when I had the chance,’ Raphael spat as they circled each other like dogs in a pit. ‘I should have shot the lot of you.’

Raphael was wild – hair loose, shirt smudged with dirt. A new, strange-shaped puzzle piece Jett couldn’t place.

‘I didn’t threaten Ariana, if that’s who you’re ...’ His breath was heavy. He had to keep Raphael talking. Find a way to get to his phone, call Grey ... ‘Ariana gave Nella the footage of her own accord. I didn’t threaten her.’

‘Your boss did.’ Raphael’s saliva frothed like a viper’s poison.

‘Nella would never. Come on, Raphael, she’s not stupid. She knows blackmail would never hold up in court.’

‘You think you know that Barbarani bitch so well?’ Jett had never heard Raphael swear.

He was loyal to the La Marcas but he almost seemed to exist on a higher plane than the rest of them, speaking in riddles and half-truths because he enjoyed the fun of it, like a playful, conniving child-god of mischief cast down to Earth because he’d been annoying all the adults up in the sky.

‘I’ve seen the way you look at her. Pathetic, that you would ever think someone like her would ever look at you as more than a set of wheels with a gag order.

She’s used you, Randall, you fucking idiot.

Did she tell you about the letter she wrote Ariana?

The letter she signed?’ He stared at Jett, waiting for a response.

‘Is that pathetic puppy dog look a no ?’

Jett visualised his fist moulding into Raphael’s face. The indent of his spine on the hood of Jett’s ute. The splash of his body in the billabong down at the bottom of the Body Barn property.

‘This is how they operate, Randall. They gain your trust, just enough so you think they see you as an equal, a human being, but just remember there’s always an end game.

You’re just an alibi, a character witness, a getaway driver.

She’s used you her entire life, so what’s any different about now?

Greyson always gave me the shits, but at least he wasn’t gullible.

At least he saw through them. But you’ve forgotten, haven’t you?

You’ve forgotten this is a job. You start acting like them, seeing yourself as equal to them, try to fly alongside them, you’ll break your delicate little human neck – if she doesn’t break it for you first.’

It’s just Raphael. Don’t listen.

But it was true. Wasn’t it? That’s why he had to get out.

Why he had to leave. It was why he’d had that dream, why he hadn’t had the self-control to stop himself getting off to the fantasy of the two of them in his bed.

For all his careful, deliberate attempts to not get addicted, he’d only been slipping further down the cold, empty well of denial.

He was a classic junkie. In too deep to even admit he had a problem.

Because, sometimes, with Nella, when they were alone, he’d started to feel like he could fly.

But Raphael wasn’t done. ‘Did you see what she wrote?’