I need to see Jasmine again.
I hadn’t forgotten the way she’d sobbed as I left—not for me, but her brother. She knew everything, and it was time she shared that knowledge.
Jethro descended the stairs, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Best move along,” the man whispered.
I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but I couldn’t move.
Jethro glided toward us, his gaze narrowed against the glare of the lights.
“Are you enjoying your time inspecting the merchandise, Ms. Weaver?” Jethro smiled curtly at the man beside me. “Christopher, I hope you are indulging my guest’s every whim.”
Christopher swallowed, a droplet of sweat running down his naked chest. “Um, yes, sir.” He shot me a glance, awkwardness all over his face.
I felt sorry for him but furious for my mother. Grabbing Jethro’s arm, I pulled him away from Christopher’s table. Anger bubbled in my veins. “He was kind and helpful and under no circumstances will you discipline him, but he told me something interesting.” Looping my fingers beneath my choker, I growled, “He said he’d seen my collar before.”
Jethro stopped breathing.
“I’m assuming that meant my mother was brought here.”
He didn’t reply.
“She was given the same privileges, wasn’t she? Because everything she learned was destroyed when Cut took her life.”
He balled his hands.
Suddenly, it was all too much. I sighed. “Don’t worry. I won’t force you to talk. I won’t ever attempt to make you do anything again. Can we just leave? I want to go home.”
The minute I said it, visions of my quarters at Hawksridge came to mind…not home in London with Vaughn. I groaned under my breath. Even my memories had replaced my past with all things Hawk.
Jethro still didn’t say a word, his pale skin growing whiter the longer he stared.
I stared right back.
His body vibrated the longer we stood in silence.
Then, he snapped.
Stealing my wrist, he stormed down the aisle, dragging me with him. “Goddammit, why must everything in my fucking life be so hard?”
“Wait.” I tugged on his hold. “Where are we going?”
“Quiet.”
I looked back to the office; perhaps that massive Pure Corruption biker could save me? If I told him everything—would I stand a chance at getting free? “Where did Kill go?”
“Gone.”
“Back to Florida?”
Would I be safe from you if I flew to America?
“No, to the next warehouse to pick up what we promised.”
I stumbled; the pace Jethro set was manic. “What did you promise?”
“Something in return for something else.”
“What something else?”
“He’s a genius with numbers—hides dirty money in many ways.”
“And what does he get?”
Jethro groaned under his breath. “Questions. Always bloody questions with you.”
I shrugged. “As Kestrel said, I’ve dug my own grave. My questions can be answered now.”
Including the ones I really want to know. Like who you truly are and why you won’t let me in!
Coming to the end of the warehouse, he opened a door and dragged me down an empty corridor. At the end of that, there was a single exit. It looked like a janitor’s closet, but the moment he opened it, it revealed a ginormous silver barricade with a keypad and spin dial.
Letting me go to enter in codes and spin the dial, he scowled. “Fine. You want to know? I’ll tell you.” The mechanism snicked open and the air pressure shifted a little. With a grunt, he yanked the thick vault open and motioned me to enter.
Deciding to obey and avoid his biting fingers, I entered the large safe.
Jethro followed, sighing in relief at the temperature change. Inside was bright but cool—the buzz of air-conditioners kept the space chilly compared to the warm warehouse.
I expected to see stacks of cash and precious gems, but all that existed were walls of gunmetal grey safety deposit boxes.
“You asked. I’ll tell.” Waving at the space, Jethro said, “All of this is to control the world we live in. We’re untouchable because of these tiny pieces of rock. We’ve built an empire on wealth accumulated from a single incident in our past that enabled us to leap over the heads of the Weavers and prove that they might’ve owned England back then but we own it now.”
“But how? Surely a mine would dry up after a time?”
“We don’t just have one mine, Ms. Weaver. We have dozens all around the world.”
Having my questions answered was a novelty—a saving grace. I never wanted to stop. “Where?”
“We mine diamonds in Africa, rubies in India, sapphires in Thailand, emeralds in Pakistan. We have the world’s most exclusive catchment of Alexandrite—one of the rarest stones—and we also have this…”
Jethro moved to the back wall and used a key to open a safety deposit box. Pulling it out, the drawer went on for ages—a long grey finger sliding free from a wallpaper of squares.
Another twist of a key and the lid opened.
Without a word, Jethro reached into the shallow box and pulled out a red velvet pouch. Stitched into the plush material was the emblem for the Black Diamonds with his initials on the front.
The JKH was exactly the same as the one on my fingers.
My heart raced as he undid the strings, moving toward me. “Hold out your hand.”