Too Far Gone (In Too Deep #2) (12 page)

Epilogue

Jake

18 months later

Two nights after Lara went to the police, Jackson was arrested.

Nick Seaver – real name Nick Perino – was arrested the same week, and unsurprisingly linked to a series of other violent break-ins in the tri-state area.

Three days after his arrest, Gabrielle’s body was recovered.

It was by no means the instant relief that Lara and I had imagined.  Somehow, we never thought about the trials, the media, what we’d say to our friends.  But the hardest part by far was facing Gabrielle’s parents, Lyle and Sofie.  In court, Sofie read a letter to Jackson, the video of which would play on the news for weeks.  “She was our daughter, our only child and the light of our lives.  She was the little girl who told silly jokes to make us smile when we were sad.  Now she’s no longer here to heal our pain.  Our hearts will forever ache because of Jackson Kinsley’s brutal, heartless and unthinkable actions.  This monster has the blood of our nineteen-year-old daughter on his hands and to see him receive anything shorter than a life sentence would be the cruelest injustice, second only to the murder of our beautiful Gabby.”

The media ate it up. 
Society Princess Killed by Hedge Fund Lover.  A Low-Class Murder In High Society
.  Neither Lara nor I could go anywhere without cameras following.  The tabloids dug up our past.  Sources claimed that it wasn’t Jackson’s first act of soliciting to murder.  Others claimed that it was Lara who had ordered the hit.

That was when the home invasion came in handy.  Text messages were read in court to show that Jackson had callously instructed Nick Seaver to break into the duplex, wait for Lara’s arrival, and then “
rough her up but don’t send her to the hospital or mess up her face
.”  While the texts about Gabrielle were spoken largely in code, and the cash deposits made to hidden bank accounts, Nick Seaver’s lawyer eventually offered the judge a turning point in the form of a recorded phone conversation.

“
Yeah
…
I don’t know how you usually do this… I know you said you don’t usually do these kinds of things as much
.”  Jackson’s voice had been shockingly casual.  “
But my preference is to leave no room for mistakes so if I were you, I’d definitely go for a head shot
. 
Two bullets to be sure.
”

That was probably the line that got him the life sentence.

Eight months after his arrest, Jackson was finally put behind bars at a federal prison in Upstate New York.  But Lara and I were gone before he even got there.

She hadn’t seen her older sister, Riley, in seven years so we went to visit her in Hawaii, in the small town of Hanalei.  She had moved there recently with her husband and four-month-old baby girl, Leilani – full name Lara Leilani.

The visit went on for another five months.  We hadn’t planned it that way, but soft sand, turquoise waters and grassy mountains turned out to be a quick way to find peace.  On top of that, it was a draw for constant visits from Sloane – sometimes even Caleb.  He had known about Jackson’s affair with Gabrielle but not the fact that he’d had her killed.

It was Sloane who had put several things together the night that she’d seen Jackson laying under Audra outside the Monarch Hotel.  She remembered things that Gabrielle had said, ways that Jackson had whispered to her during the galas.  She reconsidered what Lara had drunkenly told her that night and shortly after, gave Caleb an ultimatum: choosing between Jackson or her.  He went with the latter and days later, they got married at Buccieri.

During Sloane’s last visit, she was joined not by Caleb but Sawyer, who was all smiles as he updated us on Dane.  “He’s definitely not the same Dane anymore.  You know how he was always perma-smug, like the world couldn’t touch him and he’d keep doing whatever the fuck he wanted? Well, since… Jackson… he’s kind of become a like… paranoid recluse, I guess? I know I shouldn’t be laughing right now but come on.  The world needed less Dane McNulty.  For all I care, he can spend the rest of his life getting old at home, reliving his glory days and ordering bad sushi off of Seamless.”

A very Sawyer way to put it.

We’d laughed, Sloane had ruffled Sawyer’s hair and then turned to Lara.  “Name your baby Sawyer,” she’d said.  “Whenever you guys have one.  I mean what would we do without this stupid goofball? Boy or girl, Lara, you have to name your baby Sawyer.”

The next day, Sawyer and I went out surfing while Lara and Sloane laid out on the beach.  At night, we grilled under palm trees and the following morning, said goodbye to our friends.  It had been a good enough time that Lara had acted strange the entire week following.

“I think I want to go now,” she whispered to me one morning as we lay awake in bed.

“To the beach? Already?” I smiled.  “We haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

She shook her head, her hair spilling onto my chest as she gazed up at me.  “No, I want to leave Hawaii.  I think it’s time for the next spot.  I want to go today.”

I ran my hand through her hair and said yes.  I had no intention of denying Lara any part of her dream life.  I found her next city of choice a bit odd – a big departure from the sands of Oahu, but I went with it because no matter where we were, I’d always be exactly where I wanted.  So we went to Belgium, “one of the best cities in the world for raising kids,” Lara told me.

Because she was six weeks pregnant.  Sloane had known without her even telling.

Lara had casually revealed the secret on one of our regular morning walks, right after she chose where to have brunch.  I was in a state of shock but I recalled that we were standing in front of the cathedral, and that I had brushed her hair out of her face because the breeze had blown it astray.  She looked more beautiful than I had ever seen in my life, and I’d been at a complete and utter loss for words. But the ones that finally came made her laugh.

“Does this mean we have to name our baby Sawyer?”

“No.  But come on, Jake, it’s not such a terrible name that you should be shedding man tears,” she teased.

I held her face in my hands, gazing into her eyes as I repeated the words.  “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Letting out a long breath, I stared at the sun, my surroundings – my unbelievable life in the city where I was about to start a family with the most beautiful woman in the world.

“I can’t believe it’s a boy,” I grinned at her.

“What makes you think that?” she giggled, rolling her eyes and then nodding toward the café she’d chosen for brunch.  “Jacob Kinsley, I’m pregnant and hungry and if there aren’t any tables by the time we get there, you’re gonna get it,” she scolded. I weirdly enjoyed the hell out of it.  Couple’s bickering was like a fucking luxury for me.

“I know, but wait.”  I pulled her arm and nodded toward the cathedral.  “You wanna become a Kinsley first? Before we eat?”

“Shut up, Jake,” she laughed, dodging from my kisses as I pulled her close.  But out of nowhere, she kissed me back – soft but deep and so sweet I was tempted to just whisk her home and lay her onto our bed.  But after a little more bickering, we went to brunch and a week later, on a short trip to Croatia, we lazed on a beach, jumped off a cliff in Dubrovnik, swam for an hour, and blew off dinner to have an impromptu wedding in Makarska.

The baby’s in fact a boy.

We’ll name him Julian, after my dad.  But in a page out of Riley’s book, we’ve chosen the middle name, Sawyer.

By his first birthday, we could very well have moved on from Belgium.  But it won’t matter because we’ll always be home.  After everything we’ve been through, destination doesn’t have to do with where we are anymore.  Just the fact that we fought hard enough to be there together.

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st

After her ex’s confession, Isla swore her night could not get worse.  But two drinks later, a stumble landed her in front of the tallest, broadest, most devastatingly sexy man she’d ever laid eyes on – standing over a dead body.

Twenty-nine-year-old Abram Lenox is the city’s king of sin.  The head of Manhattan’s biggest underground gambling ring, he has dirt on just about every celebrity, billionaire and politician in town.  His fast-paced life revolves around indulging vices and there are no priorities beyond cash, thrill and satisfaction.

Until Isla Maran comes along.  Now, he’s got a murdered Mafioso on his hands and a girl who shouldn’t have seen.

But it doesn’t take long before he realizes that he’ll stop at nothing to protect her.  All that matters now is whether or not she’ll break.  Her simple life thrust in the fast lane, Isla suddenly finds herself facing a revolving door of chaos, extravagance and unspeakable crime – as well as a lust so deep and forbidden it’s bound for disaster
.

~

I was indecent, the eyes of the street flying to my body.

I’d left my bomber jacket in the bar – the one I’d saved up three paychecks for, that I had promised to give Elle the day she turned thirteen.  She used to wear it around the house whenever I visited home, her little frame absolutely drowning under all that leather.  The one time I forgot it there, she hung it up on the closet door in front of her bed, just so she could look at it all week.  But my parents said she refused to wear it out even once, citing the fact that I hadn’t given her explicit permission.  I don’t know why, but she worshipped that jacket.  And for that reason, I’d promised to protect it with my life.

But tonight, I threw that promise out the window.  Along with every other one I’d ever made.  I didn’t care anymore.

Elle was gone and my ex was marrying my best friend.

On top of that, he was still at the bar, ordering a fifth round of drinks to convince me that I should give him a “last hurrah” before he was officially off the market.  He’d shaken his head, murmuring to my legs as he ran his hands all over my shell-shocked body.  “I mean Christ, Isla, I didn’t expect you to come in looking
this
fucking good.”  He looked straight down my cleavage, digging his fingers into my thighs as he groaned.  “Come on, babe… I need to see those beautiful things bounce on top of me one more time.  It’ll be like our last secret together.  Which is kind of romantic.  Right?”

You unbelievable piece of shit
.  I should’ve known something like this would happen, but he’d managed to charm me over the phone.  He had mentioned a new job.  Paid bills.  He looked good as ever when I spotted him through the window, wearing the Jackson Hole T-shirt I’d bought him last year on our snowboarding trip.  And it had taken him a full minute to tear his eyes off of my body when I finally walked in wearing a new dress I shouldn’t have bought for multiple reasons – one being that I can’t afford a cup of coffee let alone a twenty dollar dress from H&M, the other being that I really,
really
shouldn’t have been considering the idea of anything sexual.

But I was running on a year without letting anyone touch me and Evan was someone familiar.  I wanted sex, yes, but I’d settle for just the warmth of an embrace that could swallow me and take me somewhere else for a moment.  Three hundred sixty days later and I still didn’t feel whole.  And I knew Evan wasn’t going to be my answer but I wasn’t foolish enough to look for an answer anymore.  I was just looking for one second free of heartache.

Instead, I got his bombshell dropped straight onto my skull.

“Look, I know this is going to be hard for you to process, but Holly and I got engaged last week.”

I blinked.  What?

Holly? As in
my
Holly?

No, no, no. 
I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.  Holly McPherson was the girl I’d known my entire life – the girl born on September Eighth, at six thirty-four in the morning, just a minute before me and in the room next to mine.  I’d spent entire months living at her house as a kid.  From sixteen to eighteen, she drove me to school every morning, despite going to a different one.  She blew off NYU to join me at Rutgers.
 
We’d grown apart as of late.  She hadn’t come to Elle’s funeral.  But I would never call her anything besides my best friend in the entire world.  She had been with me through all the trials and tribulations of my formative years, and both of the screaming, crying breakups I’d had with Evan.

But now they were getting married.

And all I wanted was to disappear.

I couldn’t tell if it was the news or the double margaritas Evan kept ordering, but I felt suddenly sick.  I needed to empty the horror churning my stomach and I needed to do it as far from the bar as I could.  Because knowing Evan, he’d come looking for me, and the last thing I wanted was for him to see me throwing up.  I’d acted calm when he told me about proposing.  Perhaps because I hadn’t yet processed his words.  Either way, I didn’t want him to see me like this because I couldn’t possibly feel dumber.  I was dolled up for him in curls, full makeup, a black dress too tight and sheer to suggest anything but sex – and I was seconds from keeling over to vomit my guts out.

“Isla?”

Fuck. 
My stomach lurched when I heard his voice down the block.  Panicked, my eyes flew to a narrow alley between two buildings.  It was dark as night, protected by a cast iron gate cracked barely an inch.  Ignoring the sign, I pushed through it, disappearing into the shadows just as Evan came around.  Ducking behind a dumpster, I watched him gaze inside, looking thoroughly intimidated as he pushed at the squeaky gate.

“Isla?” He stepped one foot in, frozen there, his eyes failing to find me even as I began walking backward, slowly submerging myself into the dark of the night.  “Isla, if you’re in here, come out! I knew you were going to react like this so I’m not mad.  I even paid for the drinks.”

My God, what a saint.
  Though with Evan, paying for anything was a miracle.

Standing dead center in the alley, I stared down at him, a sneer curling my lips as I dared him to step foot into the dark.  He didn’t have the guts to.  I knew it.  So I stood there watching until he backed away.  When he was finally out of sight, I sucked in a deep, quivering breath and willed myself to calm down.

You’re strong.  Be strong.  You’re fine
.  I repeated the words I told everyone in my family when they felt like they couldn’t hold on. 
You’re strong.  Be strong.  You’re fine. 
They always worked on my mom, albeit temporarily, and I could almost feel them slowly lifting me out of my hole.

I’m going to be okay.

But the second I believed myself, my body hurled forward.

“
Get the fuck out of here!”

A growl and a shriek – the latter was my own as I felt a hard grip on my shoulder, controlling my body and shoving me away.  Gasping, I stumbled to the ground, gravel scraping my knees.  Panic clenched in my throat as I scrambled onto my back, ready to bolt the fuck out with no questions asked.

But I froze when I saw what stood before me.

Breathless, chest heaving, I stared ahead at two long legs in scuffed jeans and leather boots, my heart slamming harder, faster as my eyes traveled skyward inch by inch, realizing the sheer height and size on the man who’d roared for me to leave.  His sweat-drenched T-shirt clung to the tapered V of his torso, every muscle flexed and rigid like those shoulders wide enough to break a doorframe.

Holy fuck. 
I scrambled backward when my darting eyes saw his fingers wrapped around a metal pipe.  His grip crushed it, the vein in the back of his hand bulging, traveling up his muscled forearm and all the way to a lean bicep my hand wouldn’t wrap around half of.

“Get on your feet now.”

I’m going, I swear I’m going now
, my lips tried to utter.  But then I looked up his face and the breath snatched from my throat.

Holy.  Shit
.

Despite a warrior’s build, he had the looks of a royal – piercing blue eyes under strong, dark brows, a long, straight nose, the squarest jaw and most sculpted lips I’d ever seen.  He was stunning.  The kind of unreal beauty I was used to seeing on billboards, red carpets – not in dark alleys, gleaming with sweat and flecked in what I hoped to God wasn’t blood.  My pulse jumped into my throat when he spoke again, his low voice rumbling like mounting storm.

“You have two seconds to walk away on your own.”

His wolfish glare blazed into me, paralyzing every inch of my body.  My lips parted but said nothing.  And when I failed to move, he dropped the pipe and starting forward.

“
No
– ” I managed something like the word as I cowered from his imposing frame.  But just as he lifted me like a ragdoll, another voice rang out in the alley.

“The fuck we do with this now?”

I turned around, my wide eyes landing on a blonde man in a suit, dragging something heavy that he dropped to the ground when he saw me.

A body.

I heard its lifeless leg fall with a
thud
before my eyes traveled to his head, still pouring – no,
weeping
thick, red blood.  My stomach turned as I then fixed my stare on the gash of white gleaming above his eye.

His skull.

My hair was yanked back the second before I keeled over and heaved.

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