Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry I walked out on you last night.”
“I’m not sorry I fucked another man.” She knew how to cut him without even using a knife. With a little more force, she got around him and kept walking.
“So … you’re just going to be homeless on the streets of L.A. now?”
Jersey was a good fighter. The fact that she didn’t jump around with her hands up at her face was her biggest strength. Opponents underestimated her, and she leveled them when they least expected it.
Ian could jump around, taunting her all day long, taking a few swings, trying to provoke her, but in the end, she would be the first to land a solid punch, and it would hurt like hell. So if he wanted to compete at her level, he had to stop jumping around. He had one chance to land a hard hit that would knock her down.
Jogging again to catch up to her, he grabbed her from behind with a firm hold, fully prepared for her to wriggle and thrash to get free.
Then his lips brushed her ear, and he punched hard. “I set Kessler on fire.”
Knockout.
It was as if every muscle in her body stopped working, like his arms were the only thing keeping her upright. Jersey didn’t move any part of her body. She didn’t breathe.
He should have told her weeks ago. He should have told her the day he saw Kessler at the hotel. He was so afraid of losing her again. But he managed to do it anyway. She slept with another man, and in true Jersey style, she told him exactly what she planned to do, and he was too stupid, scared, and blind to see the truth.
Still, even if it was too late, he had to tell her. At that point, he had nothing more to lose. “I saw him outside of a club in New York City. I hadn’t seen him in years. He was high. Still, I told him I was sorry to hear about his parents. You know … their tragic death. He said he was sorry to hear about mine. I thought he meant my real parents, but then he said, ‘The sun was at a bad angle. I thought I hit an animal.’ He said he was so fucking scared and his car was dented and had their blood on it, so he drove home, parked in his garage, got high, and set the garage on fire to get rid of the evidence. Only … he thought his parents were still out of town. Little did he know—because he was too fucking high all of the time—that they got home late the night before. While I gagged on his meth-induced confession, unable to see straight or even breathe, a car pulled up, he got in, and I lost my chance to even the score.
“He killed the Russells and his own parents in one fucking morning. Both deaths were unintentional, but in so many ways … unforgivable. I tried to let it go. I couldn’t bring back the dead, and I had no idea where he was at. So I put all of my focus into music. I became a fucking rock star. I had everything … almost everything. Except revenge—justice. So I hired a private investigator to find him, and it took years. Then one day, they delivered a file with notes, dates, photos, and locations. It was him. I let it leak that I was taking a vacation, staying at an undisclosed location in France, to avert the media. At the last minute, I faked an illness. I told Max to take a vacation, get on the plane, and let the paparazzi think Ian Cooper was in France. I told her I needed to just hole up and get better.
“So Max, the one person who kept constant tabs on me, left for France. Shane took his family to the Grand Canyon since I wasn’t leaving my bed, and I drove from L.A. to Newark and found Kessler at his usual spot that the investigator put in his report. Of course, he was selling drugs. Then I followed him to a rundown shed behind an old warehouse. When he snorted his last line and passed out, I emptied a can of lighter fluid on him and lit his pathetic ass on fire.
“When he started to scream and yell, I didn’t look back, not once—the way I imagined he didn’t look back after killing Charles and Dena. But then … he called my name. I glanced over my shoulder to the human inferno and gave him the finger.”
Ian felt Jersey’s heart booming in her chest, her breaths labored just from his words.
He kept his lips next to her ear. “I should have told you, but I didn’t know if his amnesia was real. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I thought he was the one who was there for revenge, not you. I tried to kill him for the same reason you tried to kill me. We are the same, Jersey. Only, I am capable of loving someone, but I don’t think you are.” He released her, waiting for her to turn toward him, to say something, but she didn’t. So he walked back toward the house … he set her free.