is involved. It sure looks like it.”
“He lost,
Brooke.” Jett smiled, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “He has nothing to
gain by doing this.”
I shook my
head again. “See, this is where you’re wrong. He has a lot to gain.”
“How so?”
He frowned. “His account is locked. He’s lost his business, and he’s betraying
the other members by snitching on them. Even if the club continued to grow, and
I’m saying ‘if’, Nate would be replaced as the leader. As things stand now,
they’d turn against him if they found out he ratted them out.”
I nodded,
taking in his reaction. “That might be true. However, you forgot a few things.”
When Jett frowned, I continued, “He loves to kill, but more than that, and you said so yourself, he loves to win. Maybe Nate doesn’t care
that he’s being stupid or reckless. Maybe he just wants to destroy your life
because he can’t bear for you to have it all. All his life you were his
competition. That’s what you told me, right?” I looked up and found Jett’s
stance rigid, listening, his face an expressionless mask. “I know it’s hard to
believe that, but sometimes the most complicated question has the simplest
answer. By framing you, he would stop you from acquiring success, from having
it all, even if that means destroying your life. …” I trailed off and stepped
back, sort of expecting Jett to be angry, but he wasn’t.
I expected
him to deny my statements, but he just stood there, looking out the hospital
window, his gaze distant, lost in a past he had come to terms with.
“You said
I’m forgetting a few things?” he prompted at last, before turning to me. “You
only mentioned one.”
Towering
over me, he looked dangerously handsome. If it weren’t for the pain written on
his face, I would have kissed him, begged him to take me home so we could
celebrate our news instead of obsessing over Nate. Suddenly I wasn’t sure if I
wanted Jett to hear any more of what I had to say.
I
contemplated my next words. Taking my time with a reply, I walked to the window
and stopped next to Jett, my gaze fixed on him. His posture was rigid, his jaw
still clenched. Anger wafted from him in thick, long waves, but I could feel
that his anger wasn’t addressed at me. I concluded then that Jett needed the
truth spoken aloud as much as I did. Maybe Jett needed to hear me say the
words, to have his own fears and doubts mirrored so he could finally
acknowledge and come to accept them.
“What most
serial killers want: a legacy,” I answered. “Or in Nate’s case, a big
headline.”
His
forehead wrinkled, and he opened his mouth to comment.
“No, please
listen to me.” I held up a hand, silencing him. “Everything Nate’s done so far
has been for his reputation. Even if he’s no longer the leader, like most
serial killers, he’s immensely proud of his achievements. The headlines, every
dead body found—they are trophies. A gain worth far more to him than
money or his people. Even if everything’s over and destroyed, every member of
the club exposed, he’ll want everybody to remember him as the leader of that
club, and yes, that might just mean having his name splashed across the
newspaper. But I don’t think that’s why he’s doing it, Jett.” I took a deep,
calming breath. “I believe he wants you to become a suspect so that the police
start to question the evidence you submitted against him, and possibly consider
that you might be involved, too. The following investigation would give him
more time, maybe even swing the jury in his favor. Even if you’re eventually
found as innocent, and it was all a waste of time, it would still mean the news
would have traveled worldwide. Your reputation would be shattered. The trial
might drag on for months, and if you’re not released on bail, you might miss
the birth of our daughter.” I stared at him, the pain inside me all-consuming.
Of course, those were assumptions, but Nate wasn’t just
“He lost,
Brooke.” Jett smiled, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “He has nothing to
gain by doing this.”
I shook my
head again. “See, this is where you’re wrong. He has a lot to gain.”
“How so?”
He frowned. “His account is locked. He’s lost his business, and he’s betraying
the other members by snitching on them. Even if the club continued to grow, and
I’m saying ‘if’, Nate would be replaced as the leader. As things stand now,
they’d turn against him if they found out he ratted them out.”
I nodded,
taking in his reaction. “That might be true. However, you forgot a few things.”
When Jett frowned, I continued, “He loves to kill, but more than that, and you said so yourself, he loves to win. Maybe Nate doesn’t care
that he’s being stupid or reckless. Maybe he just wants to destroy your life
because he can’t bear for you to have it all. All his life you were his
competition. That’s what you told me, right?” I looked up and found Jett’s
stance rigid, listening, his face an expressionless mask. “I know it’s hard to
believe that, but sometimes the most complicated question has the simplest
answer. By framing you, he would stop you from acquiring success, from having
it all, even if that means destroying your life. …” I trailed off and stepped
back, sort of expecting Jett to be angry, but he wasn’t.
I expected
him to deny my statements, but he just stood there, looking out the hospital
window, his gaze distant, lost in a past he had come to terms with.
“You said
I’m forgetting a few things?” he prompted at last, before turning to me. “You
only mentioned one.”
Towering
over me, he looked dangerously handsome. If it weren’t for the pain written on
his face, I would have kissed him, begged him to take me home so we could
celebrate our news instead of obsessing over Nate. Suddenly I wasn’t sure if I
wanted Jett to hear any more of what I had to say.
I
contemplated my next words. Taking my time with a reply, I walked to the window
and stopped next to Jett, my gaze fixed on him. His posture was rigid, his jaw
still clenched. Anger wafted from him in thick, long waves, but I could feel
that his anger wasn’t addressed at me. I concluded then that Jett needed the
truth spoken aloud as much as I did. Maybe Jett needed to hear me say the
words, to have his own fears and doubts mirrored so he could finally
acknowledge and come to accept them.
“What most
serial killers want: a legacy,” I answered. “Or in Nate’s case, a big
headline.”
His
forehead wrinkled, and he opened his mouth to comment.
“No, please
listen to me.” I held up a hand, silencing him. “Everything Nate’s done so far
has been for his reputation. Even if he’s no longer the leader, like most
serial killers, he’s immensely proud of his achievements. The headlines, every
dead body found—they are trophies. A gain worth far more to him than
money or his people. Even if everything’s over and destroyed, every member of
the club exposed, he’ll want everybody to remember him as the leader of that
club, and yes, that might just mean having his name splashed across the
newspaper. But I don’t think that’s why he’s doing it, Jett.” I took a deep,
calming breath. “I believe he wants you to become a suspect so that the police
start to question the evidence you submitted against him, and possibly consider
that you might be involved, too. The following investigation would give him
more time, maybe even swing the jury in his favor. Even if you’re eventually
found as innocent, and it was all a waste of time, it would still mean the news
would have traveled worldwide. Your reputation would be shattered. The trial
might drag on for months, and if you’re not released on bail, you might miss
the birth of our daughter.” I stared at him, the pain inside me all-consuming.
Of course, those were assumptions, but Nate wasn’t just
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