Page 93 of Reckless
It didn’t make sense.
Monday night, it bothered me so much I spoke to Markus about it. I did not like going to him for help, but I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that kept poking at me from all angles. Something here wasn’t right.
Markus was in his office, as he often was, looking at paperwork when I entered. He didn’t even glance up, his dark eyes glued to whatever was before him. He wore a black suit, matching both his hair and eyes, and his personality. Black as night, black as the devil himself. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Markus was the devil incarnate.
But I knew better. If the devil was nothing more than a man, what did that make us?
I sat in one of the leather chairs facing his desk, waiting until he looked up. The walls of his office were a dark mahogany, a few built-in bookcases on either side. No windows. Nothing but the dark elegance that permeated every single room in this estate—except the basement.
“What now, Vaughn?” Markus spoke, leveling those dark eyes at me. “Do you want to have your girlfriend over for another playdate? You keep having her over here, and the others might start to get ideas.”
As if I would ever let any of my brothers touch her, sexually or otherwise. No, I didn’t think so. Some of my siblings might like to share, but I was not one of them. The only ones I shared with were Dante, Jacob, and—begrudgingly—Archer.
“No,” I said. “There’s something on my mind, and I was hoping you could help me.”
In all my life, I’d only started coming to Markus lately. Before Jaz, I’d kept to myself, kept to my silence. Now, everything was different. Surely he couldn’t fault me for wanting to get to the bottom of things when her life was in danger?
Markus’s gaze narrowed, and he examined me. What he saw, I couldn’t say, but eventually he relented, “Fine. Lay it on me, but do it fast.” He knew the talk of the town, knew everything that happened lately, but he did not know all of the little details, so that’s what I told him.
The dance. The frame job. The fake murder. How Brittany had miraculously returned at the end of Archer’s mother’s funeral. How she’d acted in the hospital to both Archer and Jaz. None of it added up.
Markus took it all in quietly, letting the information stew in his calculating brain. After a few minutes of silence, he said, “It’s obvious.”
“What is?” Whatever was obvious to him was clearly not obvious to me, as I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Brittany had help.” The three words landed hard, and I felt almost stupid, like I should’ve put two and two together. “Someone who helped plan the frame job, someone who helped her pull it off.” His wide shoulders shrugged. “And obviously someone who informed her of the mother’s death, so she could stage her arrival at the most inopportune time.”
Why didn’t I think of that? Brittany wasn’t intelligent enough to pull off framing someone else. She wouldn’t have thought to get some hair from Jaz and incriminate her with her own DNA. No, someone else was the brains, but who?
“You think there’s one culprit out there,” Markus said, “but my guess is there’s two. While Brittany was busy with her fake murder, someone else was busy slicing and dicing. The two girls at that party, the mother. All with the intent to make Jaz look bad.” His eyes narrowed, and he asked, “You can’t think of anyone else that might want to hurt your girlfriend?”
Honestly, everyone who wanted to hurt her the most was dead, besides Brittany. Who the hell could be in her wheelhouse?
“I don’t know,” I said, but, deep down, I did have an idea. It was an idea that didn’t sit well with me, for multiple reasons. I got up, jerking to my feet. “Thank you. I… I need to go think.”
“Great,” Markus spoke as I walked out, “anytime you need help again, please don’t fucking come to me.”
I didn’t sleep that night, mostly because I was too lost in my own thoughts, too worried at what might be the truth. The truth… it would hurt Jaz. It would hurt her a lot. I debated on texting her my theory, on calling her and talking to her, but in the end, I didn’t. I’d wait a bit, now that I knew who to watch.
Watching was something of a specialty of mine.
The next day at school, I paid special attention to one student. I watched what that student did, how that student moved through the halls… almost like no one else saw them, either. Like they knew how to put on a mask. Now that my attention was focused on that particular student, I was able to note the cracks in the shell they wore.
No. It couldn’t be, but it was the only thing that made sense.
When lunch came, Jaz sat beside me, practically bouncing in her seat, in such a good mood I hated to tell her my theory. So I didn’t. I didn’t want to hurt her until I was one hundred percent certain.
“Dudes,” Jaz spoke, glancing at both Dante and me. Today I didn’t get food from the kitchen, for once. “Guess what I heard.”
“I’ll play any game you want, babe, as long as you end up on your—”
Dante’s crude remark was interrupted by Jaz herself, “Shut up, and listen.” When she was confident both Dante and I would be silent, she went on, “Brittany’s out of the hospital.”
She was? Already? That didn’t sound right.
“Seems soon,” Dante remarked, voicing my thoughts as he glanced at me. I could only nod along with him.
“And that’s not all,” Jaz said. “She’s missing again. I guess she forced the doctors to do it, checked herself out and never went home.” She shook her head, acting a little too happy, with everything going on. “Let her try to come at me. Let her try.”
