Page 51 of Locke

Digging his hands into his pockets, Locke looked away from Jem and his accusing eyes. “I think she’s downtown Blackwater type.”

“Whore?”

“No.”

“Poor?”

“Possibly. More…lonely, damaged type.”

A look of understanding flared in Jem’s eyes now as he nodded once. “And you want her.”

It wasn’t a question. He wanted Locke to expand. To help him understand the situation entirely, but Locke didn’t understand it entirely himself.

Struggling, he said, “I’m just not ready to let her go.”

Jem shook his head. “That’s not a good enough excuse to hold someone hostage, Locke.”

“Hostage implies she’d be here against her will.”

“But she is.”

“I can change her mind.”

Jem let out a sardonic laugh. “Only you could be so fucking clinical about this.”

Feeling bothered, Locke retorted, “That’s why you’re here, Jem. Fucking guide me.”

“What is it with you fucks putting me in these impossible situations?” Jem snapped back, seeming exhausted now. “Charlotte with her baby, Conor with his fucking stomping that freak’s head in—”

“You owe me.”

Those three words silenced Jem entirely. His entire body went still as he stared back at Locke with a pain now skirting along his features. He looked down at his feet, seeming suddenly filled with shame as he whispered, “Everyday, Locke. I think about it everyday.”

But Locke wasn’t here to talk feelings. “How do I keep her?”

Jem shook his head. “You don’t, Locke. You gotta let her go. At least dig into her fucking life or something, man. You can’t be snatching chicks off the street—”

“This was the Labyrinth.”

Jem heaved a sigh, eyes flaring now. “You killed that man in the bathroom?”

“He was one of them.”

“In the Hole?”

“Yes.”

“They’re not releasing names yet.”

“Ronaldo.”

Jem’s face went blank. He took a long moment to absorb that information, but he was battling his emotions. Shaking fingers, he fisted his hands and dug them into his plaid jacket, glaring at the floor. “Max…if you don’t let her go, I will fucking bust into that room and do it for you. You can’t do this. You still have time to let her go without raising suspicion.”

“What if nobody cares about her?”

“You don’t know that, though. If she’s truly from the belly of Blackwater, she didn’t say a word about her life, did she?” When Locke’s silence was answer enough, Jem nodded now. “See, it’s too soon. You need to do a bit of fucking research before you’re plucking pretty petals from the garden.”

Not the answer Locke wanted to hear.

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