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“Baby?” he whispered, but she just swallowed thickly as she shook her head. She gave him a guilty look, pressing her lips into a thin line as if to say, “I’m sorry.”
“Here you are,” the hostess said brightly, smiling as she extended a long, elegant arm toward a table. His eyes followed the direction, and he straightened his shoulders as he readied himself.
He met her mother’s gaze first—blue and icy, so unlike Abbie’s he wondered where she got her warmth. She was tall and rail thin, with voluminous hair he couldn’t tell was really hers or not, and a tight dark emerald dress that fit like a glove.
His eyes slid to the man standing beside her, and narrowed. He wore a plain black suit, but Jett knew that plain black suit cost more than his mortgage. Something about his face was familiar, but Jett couldn’t place him.
“Hey, squirt!” A man, about as tall as Jett but not nearly as broad, stepped forward and scooped his girl into his arms. She laughed as he swung her around, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
Jett took a step back, watching who he assumed was Abbie’s older brother, Chris, set her on the ground. She grinned up at him, her eyes glittering for the first time tonight.
He wouldn’t lie, a pang of jealousy filled him at the sight. He wanted to be the one that made her look like that, but if he was being totally honest, he was just glad she felt something other than anxiety.
“Please, Christopher,” her mother hissed. “People are staring.”
Abbie’s smile immediately fell, and her shoulders rolled back. Gone was his happy and free baby girl, and back was the cold, detached woman he didn’t recognize.
Chris gave Abbie’s shoulders a final squeeze before turning a scathing glare to their mother, then turned toward him. Jett straightened to his full height, readjusting the arms on his jacket to make sure his tattoos were fully covered before he reached his hand out.
“Jett,” he said before Chris had a chance to say anything. “I’m assuming you’re Chris? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Wish I could say the same.” He clapped his hand against Jett’s, and for a moment, shock rendered him speechless. He quickly recovered and glanced at Abbie before forcing a smile to his face.
She hadn’t told Chris about him? Why not? Was she embarrassed? Ashamed?
He didn't blame her. He would be, too.
“Jett. What an…interesting name,” her mother said. It was like a bucket of ice water washed over him. He’d never felt as out of place as he did right now.
“Jett Carver, ma’am.” He held his hand out to her and she stared at it, her lips pursed tightly together. Alright, so she didn’t want to shake his hand. Great. Ignoring her obvious disdain for him, he moved his hand toward Abbie’s father and braced himself for more rejection.
“Jett Carver,” her father repeated. A surge of panic shot through Jett’s body as he recognized where he knew this man from. He wasn’t just some random man who had a familiar-looking face, a face recognizable to everyone. This was the lawyer who’d sent him away all those years ago.
Jett’s hand shook uncontrollably as the other man reached out and all the blood drained from Jett’s face as their skin touched. Her father gripped his hand tightly, saying something that couldn’t break through the deafening roar in Jett’s ears.
This was the man who knew every detail of his case. This was the man who’d sent him to prison for so long he forgot who he was before.
This was the man who destroyed his life.
Fear coursed through him, twisting his insides until he thought he might puke all over these fancy floors. He could do nothing but stare at the man in front of him in utter disbelief, at the man who was solely responsible for ruining his life.
But through the fear, another emotion simmered to the surface—rage. Resentment. Everything and everyone around him fell away, and all that was left was the man responsible for wrecking everything just feet from him.
How many times had he promised to kill this motherfucker if he ever saw him again? Jett knew he’d done wrong and was deserving of punishment, but this man had gone above and beyond to ruin him and everything he was. To destroy any chance he had at getting off easier.
He’d wanted the full sentencing, no chance for parole. He was a shark, but in the worst way. Luckily, Jett’s lawyer had been good, and the jury was somewhat on his side after hearing his story. But the words this man had spewed in the courtroom still haunted him.
A hulking monster.
A brute.
Too big, too burly.
He was dangerous. A menace to society.
He’d hurt someone again, and next time, what would happen?
Next time, he’d kill someone.
