“I’m out of the business, Jett. You know that.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Jett whispered.
“You’re my best friend and I’d do anything for you, bro. But last time I barely got away with it. I vowed to stay out of trouble.”
Kenny’s hesitation reflected in his dark eyes, and for a moment Jett was sure his friend would leave him hanging. And then his gaze met Jett’s and Jett knew he had won.
“You like her, don’t you?” Kenny asked.
“More than I care to admit.” It was the truth.
“Then I’ll do it. Just promise to have my back if the wrong people come knocking on my door.”
Jett smiled, and for the first time since the fight with Brooke he almost felt enthusiastic. Hopeful. Because Kenny always knew what to do. He wasn’t one of the most feared hackers for no reason.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it,” Jett said.
“I’ll call once I have a lead.” Kenny stood and Jett walked him to the door.
***
At 11.45 a.m the cell’s screen buzzed to life with an unknown caller. Jett had been stuck in a meeting for the last two hours, barely paying attention to his father’s endless rambling about a few new acquisitions and the consequent profits the company could make.
Jett excused himself and shot out of the room, pressing the cell to his ear but not speaking until he reached the men’s restroom. The faint scent of roses wafted past as Jett peered into each cubicle, making sure it was empty.
“She boarded a plane to Europe,” Kenny said as a means of introduction.
Had the private detective missed the credit card charge?
“Wait until you hear the next part,” Kenny coaxed. “You sure you were the only secret boyfriend? Because it looks like someone else paid for the tickets.”
Brooke wasn’t like that. And yet did he really know her?
“Who?” Jett’s voice was a layer of ice.
“Ken Clarkson. He’s a lawyer from London. Owns a successful firm. Not married.”
Why the heck did he need to know the last part? Was he supposed to feel better about the fact that Brooke might be seeing a not married guy? When did they meet and why did she trust him enough to let a stranger whisk her away on vacation? Could he be an ex?
“Jett?” Kenny’s tone was strained with something. Certainly not worry. More like humor.
“Give me a sec.”
The pressure behind Jett’s eyes intensified at the thought of Brooke in the arms of another man, claiming what should be Jett’s. He moistened a hand under the cold water tap and ran it over his feverish nape. The cool moisture provided enough diversion to help him gather his thoughts through all the brain fog. And that’s when he began to put two and two together. A lawyer. Paid-for tickets. Europe.
“Where exactly in Europe?”
“Let me check.” The sound of flicking papers carried down the line an instant before Kenny said, “Some place called Bellagio. Never heard of it.”
He had found her in—
Bellagio—Italy.
Fuck!
That wasn’t good. On a scale from one to ten, this was a hundred. A disaster.
“When?”
“Last night,” Kenny said. “She landed earlier this morning.”
Jett’s heart began to thump just a little bit harder. If he jumped on a plane now, he’d be there in eight hours. The actual work would begin now but he wasn’t worried about that. He’d never been scared of giving his best—be it working at his job or getting a woman. What worried him was that he could be too late. He had to get to her, and quickly.
“Do you need me to find out more about the lawyer?” Kenny asked.
“I need something else.” Jett paused as he looked around to make sure no one could hear him. The restroom was still empty, but he lowered his voice nonetheless to be on the safe side. “Find me a gun dealer in Bellagio.”
A pause then, “You’re not going to kill her? Or the lawyer?” He could sense Kenny’s doubt.
What the fuck?
Jett had done many stupid things in his life, but he had never been even remotely inclined to harm a woman. He took a deep breath to steady the waves of anger rushing through him. “Just find me the right guy, Kenny.”
“I was just—”
“I know that.”
“It was just a reminder, Brooke, in case you forget.”
I shot her a dirty look and she smirked back. I never forgot anything and Sylvie knew it. This was her way to tell me that I was playing in a completely different league here. Basically, well over my head, while she was the one who knew everything about high society, and she was determined to take the role of mentor.
Not that I had ever asked her for her guidance. Or that I needed a mentor. But I let her do and say as she pleased because every now and then Sylvie’s advice hit the spot. I had no idea what to do with a mansion and thousands of acres of land, with an entire legal firm on speed dial, and a bank director wanting to meet me personally to commence our ‘business relationship.’ The coming days would be tough, and I was thankful to have someone like Sylvie by my side.
“You’ll do okay, chica,” Sylvie said, misinterpreting my silence. “I don’t doubt you for a second.”