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Breaking Point

Chapter Thirty-Three: Breaking Point

"Jack," I gasped, my nails tearing into the skin on his hands. "Stop, please."

His tawny eyes were bright as he met mine. Something like regret flickered there, and his strangle-hold relaxed. He still kept me pinned, still kept his hand on my throat, but I could breathe. Besides sucking in greedy gulps of air, I kept my body perfectly still. Jack was making no move to get off of me, and I needed to think. Which was hard to do when you couldn't even pull air into your lungs.

"I am sorry," he said. His voice was low, and he stroked his thumb down the column of my throat again. "This was never the plan."

"Then what was the plan?"

"You were never a part of it. I didn't even know you were with him until last night."

My eyes closed of their own violation. I had assured Vincent that we had been careful enough the night before. We had barely interacted. No one could have possibly thought that there was anything special about how Vincent acted around me.

But Jack not only knew Vincent; he also knew me. He knew my tells better than almost anyone.

Shit.

"What gave us away?"

"Vincent had an eye on you all night. At first, I could've written it off as finding you attractive, anyone with eyes can see that. But it was you. The way you reacted to him pulling you across that bar."

Double shit.

"I know you, Jules. You'd never let anyone manhandle you like that. Not unless you knew them. Trusted them."

And damnit if he wasn't right.

When I opened my eyes again, Jack hadn't moved a muscle. My brain was on overdrive, trying to figure a way out of this. That singular 'please' was the only one he was going to get out of me.

"So, what now?" I croaked, trying to clear the rasp in my voice. "What do you stand to gain here?"

"I have to say I'm in a bit of a predicament. I never expected to care about the same person Monroe did. Alana was easy. But you . . ." he trailed off again, his brows puckering as he pulled them together. "I don't know what to do with you."

Well, at least that meant I had something to work to my advantage.

"Vincent doesn't care about me," I told him. "It's just a fling."

"Jules," Jack said, leveling me with a skeptical look. "Don't lie to me. It won't do you any favors."

My teeth ground together as I fought against the urge to try and throw him again. He'd be expecting it. He was the one who had taught me damn near everything I knew.

Gods, how was I going to get out of this?

"Fine," I muttered, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. "Just get it over with."

"I don't want to hurt you."

A laugh rasped out of my tender throat. "These bruises are going to tell a different story."

"I thought I could do it." I felt him brush another strand of hair from my face, and I resisted the desire to bite him. It might serve to surprise him, but I needed him down for long enough to get to my phone and get out of the gym.