The lights flicked on, bathing Jett's hallway in light as we stepped inside, out of the rapidly cooling evening, and into the warmth and comfort of his home. He pushed the door closed behind me and lead me deeper into the house, taking a turn to the right a short way along, and clicking on another light. I followed him into the living room, pleasantly surprised at how homely it was. The small room's taupe walls glowed under golden ceiling lights, A cream corner sofa lined the far wall, a mixture of red and gold cushions decoratively scattered across it. Glass coffee tables stood on either side, with glass lamps on top, a subtle glow emitting from under cream shades. There was a wooden tv cabinet directly opposite the seating area, a decent sized flat screen tv standing on top. Jett moved through the room, drawing the curtains over the window to one side.
"Have a seat." He nodded towards the sofa, then proceeded to walk towards the kitchen, situated beyond a set of sliding glass doors that had been left open.
"Thanks." I smiled softly, dropping onto the edge of the sofa.
It was a strange feeling, being in Jett's home for the first time. One that was made worse by the fact that I had already had sex with him twice. It was like it was all going backwards. I felt a light fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach and let out a small shuddering breath.
"Can I get you something to drink?" He called from the kitchen.
"A beer, if you have one, please?" I called back.
My eyes landed on a photo frame, which I realised, was the only one in the room. It stood on the lower level of the tv cabinet, mostly hidden in darkness. Intrigued, I couldn't help but make my way towards it. I reached forwards, picking it up from the shelf, and feeling a loose piece of paper brush my hand from behind the frame. I was too caught up looking at the photo to pay any attention to the paper. A smiling family of four looked up at me from under the glass. A man and woman with their arms wrapped around two boys. I recognized the shockingly bright blue eyes of the eldest boy, even in photo form. Jett must have been in his mid to late teens in this photo, he looked so carefree and happy. Back there, he twinkled and shone, innocence and hope ablaze inside of him, now, there was something so different, pain and anger. I hated that the time had been so hard on him. My eyes passed over the woman beside him, her brown hair shone fiery red in the sunlight, her eyes were a medium brown, almost gold and there was nothing but love and happiness in her smile. I wondered where she was, what happened to her. Jett hadn't mentioned his mother yet. Just his father... I found the face of the man who was taken from his family. The black hair was the same as his two sons. He had a kind face, and was as close as he could position himself to those dear to him. I noticed his eyes. Blue, like Jett's, yet unlike his, they were a deeper blue, like the depths of the ocean. And his brother, so small and full of life and cheer. He couldn't have been older than eight or nine. He clung to his father, the ghost of a laugh, long since forgotten, pulling at the corners of his mouth. He had the eyes of his mother, but everything else was Jett in miniature. I felt my heart aching at the knowledge of the sad future that life held for them. My thumb ran over the edge of the frame and I felt the loose paper behind it brush against my hand once more. I pulled it out, and unfolded what appeared to be an old newspaper clipping, my eyes bulging as I read the headline.
Man killed in fatal shooting.
Right underneath was a picture of a young man, his handsome face hinted at a rebellious streak, but there was a kindness and cheekiness that hadn't faded away over the years. There was no denying that dark hair and those golden eyes. I read the caption underneath and felt my heart sink.
20 year-old Kyle Carson was killed on Saturday evening.
I felt like the air had frozen solid in my lungs, I wasn't even sure if I was breathing. I knew he had died, but that he was shot! I figured an accident or something, but this. So many questions were racing through my mind in that moment. I noticed Jett's name in the article, I blinked a few times trying to clear the confused fog so that I could read on.
"That'll teach me for leaving people unattended in my living room."
I jumped at Jett's voice right behind me, the deadly calm tone was like ice down my spine. I didn't know what to say, part of me was ready to apologise a thousand times and then jump out of the window. The storm in his eyes was terrifying as they flicked from the cutting to my face. But then something else kicked in, I remembered the tenderness of them when he said I was beautiful. The gentleness in his touch. Suddenly, I wasn't scared.
"What happened?" I asked.
I was surprised at the steadiness in my voice, and it seemed Jett was too. But whatever he felt, was clearly being challenged by the strength of the pain and anger as his eyes fell on the picture of his brother.
"I'm sure you know by now." He spat the words with venom, but I didn't budge.
"No, I haven't read it. Just the headline."
"But you would have, if I hadn't come in then."
"Can you blame me? You're a complete closed book. No one here knows you, your life, your history. You told me some, but then I see this? You'd do exactly the same in my position."
The mask of anger began to crumble and he placed the bottles of beer on that table and dropped onto the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, he raked his fingers through his hair lifting his chin back up to face me once more.
"You're right. I'm sorry."
He sounded tired, resigned, as though there was no point in him trying to make me drop it. I walked towards him and gently sat down next to him.
"Look at me." I whispered.
Slowly his face turned towards me. I lifted my hand, letting it brush over his cheek, down over his stubble and rest at his jaw.
"Let me in, please." I asked softly, using my free hand to place the picture frame and the clipping onto his lap.
He looked confused for a moment, then it seemed to dawn on him, I wanted to hear it from him. His hand rested on the frame, then he tightened his hold on it, his eyes remaining fixed on mine.
"Joyriding." He said softly.
I let my hand slide lower until it rested over his elbow.
"It sounds so simple, stupid and harmless, but it was the start of it all. With everything we learned from Dad, Kyle was able to easily break into cars. Joyriding soon turned into auto theft. He would take them for a spin and abandon them."
He rolled his eyes, a small exasperated laugh escaped and I could instantly envision a younger Jett getting irritated with his little brother's escapades.
"This one day, he stole the wrong car. Some men found him and took him down to the docks." The anger in his voice increased, and his grip on the frame tightened. "They worked for a guy by the name of Jackson Holt. It was his car Kyle had taken."
He fell silent for a moment, I reached over and rested my hand over his, feeling the tension in his clenched fist, begin to lessen and hearing him let out a small sigh.
"Holt was a real son of a bitch. A criminal with his hands in all sorts of things. He ran an import, export business, and not of the legit variety. His 'ring' dealt with stealing high end cars to order, among other things, like weapons."
I felt sick as I began to put the pieces together.
"He was impressed with how Kyle had managed to steal his car. He offered him a job, his mechanic he called it. Of course, he didn't give Kyle much of a choice. It was a straight choice between take it or die."
"How did you find out all of this?" I asked gently.
"Kyle. He was recruited when he was eighteen, he ended up working for him until he died, I never had any idea, until he came to me for help one night."
I could hear the emotions beginning to break through, his eyes squeezed closed as though fighting to prevent the memory of it. I held onto his hand, trying to comfort him.
"It's okay, what happened?"
His eyes flew open, a watery shine to them and he continued.
"Holt had given him a job, one that wasn't going to be easy. He didn't have a choice but to ask for my help. He had to come clean, told me everything and begged me to help him. I couldn't believe I'd been so fucking stupid. So clueless. I should have known what he was doing, I promised Mom that I would keep an eye on him, and I failed."
"No!" I gasped, clutching his face and locking eyes with him. "You didn't fail. You were there for him when he needed you. It's not your fault what happened."
"It is though. I made it happen, I should have just left it alone."
I could see the heartbreak in his eyes and a tear fell from my lashes, running down my cheek, as he sat up and let my hands slide down to his thigh.
"I agreed to help, but I told Kyle I wanted him out of it after that, for good. He told me the threats he was under, the ones we were all under if he left. When we met up with Holt to go over it all, I told him I wanted Kyle to go free, to no longer have to be a part of all of that."
"What did he say?"
Jett let out a cold and empty laugh.
"He said he wasn't about to let his best worker walk away... So, I offered something else. An exchange, myself for Kyle's freedom. I'd take his place and he'd let him go."
The fact that Jett was willing to give up himself for his brother made me admire him even more, but I felt crushed by the oncoming information.
"He agreed, and so, we did the job. It all went as smoothly as could be expected. Until we got back."
My heart was racing in my chest to the point where I felt like it was about to break right through.
"He congratulated me on a job well done, and my new position on his team. Then he turned to Kyle."
More tears rushed down my cheeks as I saw them falling from Jett's eyes.
"He pulled a gun, and shot him, before I could even move. I saw him hit the ground, and I ran to him. I pulled him into my arms and tried to stop the bleeding. But it was too late. He died in my arms."
He choked on the last word, and I forced down a sob, I couldn't let him see how upset I was, hearing this, not before he got it out. He sniffed and the anger flared again.
"Holt just stood there calmly. Told me that I got my wish, Kyle was 'free'. I felt like someone had stabbed me in the heart as I looked at Kyle. I just lost it. I was seriously outnumbered, he had a bunch of his men there, but I didn't even care. I just went after them, beating the hell out of them."
I could almost picture it in my head, Jett, heartbroken and alone, fighting with all he had under a rain of hits from various men. I couldn't even begin to understand how he could possibly ever get over something like that.
"I got two down, but of course, the numbers game took affect and the tables turned as more of them came at me. I wanted to get my hands on Holt. I didn't stay down, no matter how many hits I took, or bones I heard crack and break. Eventually, he'd had enough. One of them managed to knock me back to the floor, before I could get back up, he said it was a shame that it didn't work out, then shot me in the chest, and left me for dead. Put me in a coma for four days."
I suddenly remembered the scar on his chest, the one that went through to his back.
"The scar." I breathed, my fingers reaching for his chest, seeking the place where the marks of that day were permanently etched upon his perfect form.
He caught my hand, realising what I was doing, as his teary eyes locked with mine.
"I need to, please." I whispered softly.
His resolve weakened and he leant forwards reaching behind his neck and gripping the shirt, then tugging it over his head. I waited for his arms to make their way back down to his sides before I moved in closer. The scar shone pale against his tanned skin, illuminated by the lighting in the room. I traced my fingers over it and felt another tear drop from my lashes, landing with a splash on Jett's muscular chest. I couldn't begin to imagine the pain and heartache he went through that day. I felt the ridge from the scar tissue, underneath my finger, and couldn't get my head around how he survived. But I felt a flame burning bright with relief and joy, inside me. So grateful that he was still here, and that right now, he was with me. Struck hard by that gratitude, and adoration and affection for him, I pressed my lips to the scar from the wound that nearly took his life. I felt him inhale sharply in surprise, but I didn't stop, I kissed it again instead and whispered against his heated skin.
"I'm so glad you're safe."
I heard movement to my right, and then his hand on my jaw, tipping it up to look at him.
"I wasn't glad, until now." He whispered.
As our eyes met, a million unsaid things surged between us, and he guided me up towards him, closing the distance until our lips brushed together in a tender kiss, and sparks rushed through our bodies. My hands glided over his shoulders, working their way to the back of his neck as our kiss deepened, keeping its slow and sensuous pace. He pulled me closer until I straddled his lap. His hands held me against him, one at my hip and the other tangling into my hair. So much intensity and need burned between us and I felt our control slipping as we began to shed our clothes, then tumbled over on the sofa, Jett's body pinning me down. His lips trailed down over my neck, suckling and kissing along the way as my legs wrapped around him. There was no foreplay, no teasing, no tormenting. We both sought nothing but comfort and intimacy in one another and as Jett's hard length slipped into me, I pulled him back in for a kiss, moaning against his mouth and molding to him entirely. His movements were slow and deep, a total opposite to our previous occasions. This time something was different. Right here and now, it was perfect. I allowed myself to be overcome by the raw emotion of the night, and got lost in the comforting pleasure of Jett's body against mine, and his slow and pleasurable, deep thrusts, long into the night.