Page 36 of Framed

Not in that way, at least.

In the grand scheme of things, I knew doing what the note instructed me to do broke a piece inside of her, but I did it anyway, even if it killed me.

Even if it killed whateverusthat could’ve been.

It was for her protection and I’d do it all over again if it kept her out of harm’s way. Back then I thought if she was behind bars it would keep her safe fromhim, the one who sent me that note. Now that she was out and Jonathan Sinclair was in, all bets were off.

After getting over my initial anger, the blood rushed back to my brain. My brain knew what was in the media was part of the truth, but it also didn’t believe Jonathan was the one who sent that note. Jonathan and Naomi were having an affair but I doubt he was involved in her disappearance or murder, let alone that he’d threaten me to stay away or he’d expose himself. As fucked up as the entire situation was, I believed Jonathan actually cared for Naomi in his own way.

And while I had no proof, I believed Naomi also received a note or was being threatened. She had started acting strange a few weeks before her murder and it couldn’t have been a coincidence that she too stopped all communication with Scarlett around the same time I got the first note. My note threatened to expose Naomi’s behavior if I didn’t stay away—why would Jonathan threaten to expose himself?

Naomi’s mother, Veronica Stewart, still kept her room exactly as it was when she was alive, but I couldn’t find it in myself to rummage through Naomi’s things. It felt wrong, but I knew if I looked hard enough the answers would be somewhere in there.

“I reckon the reunion didn’t go well.” Briggs’ face was an unreadable mask, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. The asshole knew what seeing her would do to me but he assigned me to her anyway.

I steadied the bag and shot him a murderous glare.

“I was hesitant to assign her to you, but you assured me you were over her,” he said. And he was right. I did and I truly thought that I could hide the burning desire, tamp down the flames she ignited. But once again, all bets were off when it came to Scarlett Rose. “Just say the word and I can get Gio on the job.”

He was talking about Giovanni “Gio” Pends. Another contractor of Briggs who often took more hands-on jobs, if you catch my drift. While we both knew Gio would never take a simple security job, his words still irritated me.

The bastard also knew I wouldn’t allow anyone but me to look over Scarlett, so I ignored him. I wasn’t taking his bait today. I went back to working on the punching bag. Black dots appeared in my vision and it was then I realized my form was shitty because I was holding my breath—one of the first things you’re taughtnotto do.

I steadied the bag once more and leaned into it as I tried to catch my breath. I was dangerously close to passing out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breath work, Zay. You can do it in your sleep.

“You know, there’s still time to pull you off of this assignment.” The worry in his tone was evident. Briggs, like myself, wasn’t one to show any emotion to anyone, so I couldn’t quite decipher if he was being an ass right now.

“Is that an option?” I asked carefully, eyeing him to try and gauge his seriousness, but his expression or lack thereof gave nothing away. After spending the past four years together, I’d picked up on some things about the sadistic son of a bitch. You had to make things sound like Briggs’ idea or you’d never get what you wanted.

“No.” The motherfucker smiled at me and I resisted the urge to pummel him. If I wasn’t currently panting like a dog trying to catch my breath I would’ve. “I just wanted to see how screwed up this situation really was.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fuck you.” I said, but there was no emotion behind it. It was hard to take him seriously in that cowboy hat. With his thick mustache and slicked-back hair, he looked like he’d just walked out of a fucking western movie.

I glanced up as the elevator doors opened and saw my best friend, Tucker, walk through in his workout gear with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. He paused mid-step as he took in the scene—more specifically Briggs.

Tucker was pissed when he found out that Briggs assigned Scarlett to me. Said some shit about opening old wounds but I knew he was more afraid I’d go down that dark path again. He was well aware of the past I had with Scarlett and how she could threaten to fuck up all of my “progress,” which he credited himself for.

I met Tucker Weston when I was six years old and he was ten. Buck-toothed and too smart for his own good, Tucker had always been like the older brother I never had. The Westons watched out for me a lot before my mom passed away from cancer. From letting me come over to eat dinner with them to washing my laundry before I knew how. They were my family when I had no one else.

When I needed one.

It got to the point where I was practically living there before child services located my father, Decan Adams. It wasn’t hard, considering he was the current Governor of Georgia. Mom didn’t talk much about him so I never knew. And I had planned to remain in the care of the Westons until Father threatened legal action. They had their hands tied and were practically forced to release me into the care of my father.

The day I left Tucker and his family was still seared into my brain as one of the worst in my life.

Thanks to the incessant gossip that plagued Tuscaloosa, I came to learn that Dad never wanted me. He and my mother were high school sweethearts, but he’d abandoned her the minute she started showing, and the town hadn’t been far behind him in ostracizing her. To him, I was an obligation he had to deal with and he made that abundantly clear with his fists. I guessed that’s where my love of using my own formed.

Tucker was in his second year of medical school at Cerner Medical Hospital a few towns over. We met a couple of times a month to spar at the gym I built at my bar,Sweat, a previously renovated department store my mom left me after her passing.

We weren’t supposed to meet up tonight. And I was surprised he agreed. Tucker was on call and he usually spent his time catching up on sleep before he had to go in. I had a game tomorrow night and couldn’t risk injury. I was already in hot water with Coach Williams after that reporter showed up and cornered me outside of the bar. But I was slipping dangerously close to that door inside of my brain that held back the darkness that lurked inside.

I figured I could blow off some steam with a quick sparing session.

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