Page 116 of Bourbon Deceit
“That makes no sense, why would—”
“They have a common goal in life . . . to take down Jett Colby.”
“But doesn’t Jett have enough power to take out Rex and his dad?”
“Not like they have over him. They know about you, you’re his weakness and that is just one thing he can’t fake.”
“But what about Rex and his dad? If his dad is such a bad person, why doesn’t Jett have anything to hold over his head?”
“That’s what he’s working on but Jett can’t seem to get anything concrete on him, rather than he said, she said bullshit, which won’t hold up in court.”
“But—”
Diego cut me off. “That’s all I have for you. Can I leave?”
I sat there stunned, wondering what to do next.
“Isn’t there a big event tonight?”
“The Mayor’s Ball.”
“You’re going, right?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m going to help Jett.”
“You’re taking me with you.”
A laugh escaped Diego’s mouth, a deep and guttural one. “Okay, crazy.”
I stood up and charged after him, his hands covered his nipples as he crossed his legs to cover his junk.
Leaning in while reaching for the butter knife behind me, I held it up and threatened him. “Butter knives are much worse when it comes to castrating someone than let’s say, something sharp or serrated. I would hate to have to use this in the middle of the night.”
Okay, crazy was probably an accurate assessment, but I was done. I was sick of people treating me like a goddamn delicate flower. I could hold my own and I was about to. I was not letting anyone push me around anymore. I was going to take care of Jett for once.
“Be ready by eight?” he said. “Wear something fancy.”
I patted his face with the flat side of the knife. “Good boy. You’re making smart decisions today, Diego. Give yourself a pat on your back.”
I tossed the half-eaten sandwich at him and brushed my hands off. “I’ll see you around eight.”
As I walked toward my room, I thought about how there was some packing I needed to do and some phone calls to make. I had a party to attend and a man to save.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Say You Love Me”
JETT
The flowery scent of Keylee’s perfume was way too overpowering to be trapped in a small vehicle with her. It was a scent your grandma would wear only on her fanciest occasions, and it was just dreadful.
The dress she showed up in was a deep purple, sweetheart top that hugged her waist and draped over her hips. There was a slit that rode up the center of her legs, showing off quite a bit but concealing just enough that the dress wouldn’t be considered slutty, unless you were sitting next to her in a car; that was a different story.
She crossed her legs and leaned over to me, directing my attention to the slit that rode dangerously close to her underwear—at least I was praying she was wearing underwear. Given her track record, she probably wasn’t.
“I’m so excited about tonight.” She leaned in and wrapped her hand around my arm. “Is my dress all right?”
“You look very beautiful,” I said, trying to keep the little devil calm. Just a couple of hours, that’s what I kept telling myself.
