More of You (Confessions of the Heart 1)

“Ian,” he wheezed. “What happened?”

“I . . . Steven. You told me to stay away from him, so . . . so I tried to keep him out of the house when he showed up here. I tried, Jace. I promise, I tried to make you proud.”

Jace’s jaw clenched.

Fury blistered. Scoring into his consciousness. Penetrating to the ugly, dark spot in his soul.

That piece of shit did this?

“It’s okay,” he attempted to murmur, to comfort his brother, his words raking from his raw throat. “It’s okay.”

Ian nodded and then winced in pain as he moved.

“It’s okay,” Jace whispered again, helping his brother to stand. Knowing it wasn’t even close to the truth.

The pompous fucker straightened his suit jacket as he stepped out of his car and onto the sidewalk. Jace didn’t hesitate. He rushed up behind him and shoved him as hard as he could.

His back bowed as he stumbled forward a step before Steven whirled around. He cracked a grin when he saw Jace. But Jace wasn’t smiling back. He was throwing a fist. As hard as he could.

It cracked against the guy’s face. His head rocked back, and Jace didn’t slow, didn’t wait, he dove for him, tackling him to the ground.

A frenzy lit inside Jace. All the anger and hostility he possessed rising to the surface.

Freed.

“You hurt my brother. You piece of shit, you hurt my brother.”

Jace threw punch after punch. They landed on the guy’s chin. His jaw. His nose. Bones crunching and flesh splitting.

It only fueled the fire.

The hot hatred that burned inside Jace.

He wanted to end him.

Erase the threat.

All of it.

The drugs he was feeding his mama, the hook he had in Joseph.

Most of all, he wanted to get retribution for Ian. His brother who was so brave and so damned stupid.

“You disgusting piece of shit. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you.”

Jace didn’t even know what he was saying, his rage so intense, red was the only thing he could see.

He could barely feel the blow that jolted through him when a fist landed on his cheek.

Blinding.

Feet pounded around him, and voices shouted.

He didn’t slow. He pounded and pounded and pounded.

Hands were suddenly on him, dragging him back, pinning him facedown on the ground. Cuffs were slapped around his wrists.

Jace lifted his head.

Blood dripped to the sidewalk from his mouth, and he could barely make out the figure who was pushing up to sitting, wiping the red from his face, grinning at Jace like he was the one who’d won.

“I’ll kill you,” Jace shouted.

He was jerked up, his feet coming out from under him, two officers dragging him away.

“I’ll kill you.”

The cell door buzzed, and Jace warily fumbled out, his head hung low as he was released.

Questions swirled around him, the worry of his fate and wondering how his mom had scraped together the money to bail him out.

He’d never hated his world more than right then. Who he was and where he came from. He’d never regret what he did—sticking up for his brother. Protecting him. But he would always regret what lived inside him.

Regret the fact that he was supposed to meet Faith last night and he hadn’t shown. He could only imagine what she’d thought when she’d been out in front of that house in the middle of the night and he wasn’t there.

Fear trembled through his spirit. Because he’d never been so sure than right then that he would never be good enough for her.

He stepped out into the sunlight, blinking against the bright day, only for his guts to twist when he saw the asshole leaning against the side of the building.

He pushed from the wall and grinned at Jace like they were the best of friends. “Ah. Jace Jacobs, the little destroyer. What you did last night wasn’t very smart, but I can’t say I’m not glad you did it. You owe me. Now get in my car.”

Jace’s guts curled in the tightest knot, his spirit pulsing with dread.

Twenty-Three

Faith

“I think it’d be best if I just stayed home.” I wasn’t in love with the way my voice cracked with a shot of uncertainty.

But that was the way Jace Jacobs had always made me feel.

Uncertain and confused and itchy and wanting things I shouldn’t want.

“I have to go, Faith. And that means you’re coming with me.”

He was leaned against the kitchen counter, hands gripping the white stone, so casual and powerful in his stance that I didn’t know how to process what it was I felt when I saw him standing there.

A week had passed since we’d received the last threat. It was like having to start all over again.

Each time one came, I felt as if I were back at square one. Preparing for a new fight, and still, trying my best to go on livin’.

Moments forgetting all about it as I went about my days, only for the next minute to have the reality of my situation slam me from out of nowhere.