Page 63 of Jett in Jeopardy

The man in question had light hair and was a little taller than Jett, but stockier and surprisingly familiar. I’d seen him before. The night I’d let Jett stay at my place because he’d been too drunk to get himself home. The man holding his arm now had been holding onto him almost the same way while he’d tried to take Jett out of my bar until I’d stopped him.

Was that him? Was this Simon? A mix of panic and fury swirled inside me. What would he have done to Jett that night if I hadn’t stopped him? What would he do with Jett now if I didn’t get to that car and stop him again?

I darted across the road as the man shoved Jett into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Why was Jett going with him? Why wasn’t he fighting to get away?

Simon hurried around the front of the car to the driver’s side and yanked open the door. I ran, hoping to get in front of the car and block it from pulling out, but I was too late. Simon pulled onto the street, turning at the intersection out of The Square toward downtown, leaving me standing and panting in the middle of the road.

What the hell should I do? Simon had taken Jett to god knows where to do god knows what. My legs turned soft and tingling at the thought, breath lodging in my lungs, leaving me lightheaded.

I had no idea how to find him. Why had Jett gone with him willingly? Maybe I’d misread the situation. Maybe that wasn’t Simon and just some guy Jett knew.

But in my gut, I knew that wasn’t the case. The guy had been gripping Jett’s arm hard, half-dragging him across the street and forcing him to stumble behind him, making no effort to accommodate his injuries.

Panic fluttered in my throat like a trapped bird. The man had almost beaten him to death in a parking lot the last time Jett had been with him. What would he do with him now?

Call the police, a small voice whispered in the back of my brain. And I would. What else could I do? But who knew how long it would take the police to find Jett and how much damage would Simon do in the meantime?

Still, I slid my phone from my jeans to dial 911, but stopped. I remembered installing a tracking app on Jett’s phone way back when all this started. If Jett had his phone, I could find him. Once I knew where he was, I could call the police. And more importantly, I could get him away from Simon.

Simon didn’t take Jett far. The tracker app showed Jett in an industrial area downtown by the water. I followed the narrow road in my truck, the pavement cracked and uneven after years of neglect. It was obvious the area was rarely used.

I spotted Simon’s silver Corolla parked outside an old warehouse with rusted steel walls and small windows clouded with years of dirt and grime. Again, it was obvious the building hadn’t been used in years. I turned into the gravel drive, cutting the engine so I wouldn’t alert Simon that I found him, and let my truck roll in behind Simon’s car. My truck blocked him in, so if he tried to make a run for it, he’d have to get past me first.

I slid out of my truck as quietly as possible. I couldn’t risk alerting Simon that he’d been found in case he panicked and hurt Jett in the chaos. Doing everything I could to keep my footsteps light and soundless, I crept closer to the old building and stood on tiptoes so I could peer through the clouded window, hoping to see inside to make sure Jett was in there.

To get a better look inside, I cupped both hands at the sides of my head to block out the daylight and the clouds reflecting in the window. The wide empty space within the warehouse was nearly as gloomy as outside, but there was enough light cast from a battery-powered lantern I saw on an old stack of wood pallets. I could make out a cot and sleeping bag set up next to the pallets. There was what looked like a suitcase and tools shoved against a wall.

This must have been where Simon hid once Jett had worked out his identity instead of remaining in his dorm. I was about to look for a way inside when movement caught my eye. To the right of Simon’s makeshift bed, Jett was crouched on the floor on his knees while Simon stood before him, waving a gun at him.

Panic seized my insides. My heart stopped beating for a moment. He was going to kill Jett.

I turned away from the scene unfolding before me, dialed 911, and pressed my phone to my ear. After quietly requesting the police and explaining the situation to the operator, she tried to keep me on the line by asking me question after question. Barely listening, I turned and looked back through the window.

Inside, Simon paced back and forth in front of Jett like an angry, cornered jungle cat. He stopped periodically to jab the gun in Jett’s direction, as if to drive home some point of whatever he was saying.

While I couldn’t make out his words through the thick metal walls, I could hear his voice rising. His actions were growing more and more erratic.

There was no time to wait for the police. I had to get to Jett away from Simonnow. I couldn’t lose Jett, not now, not like I lost Ryan. I couldn’t lose another man I loved.

Cutting off the 911 operator’s endless barrage of questions, I ended the call and backed away from the window, making my way around the building’s perimeter until I finally found a door.

As carefully as possible, I did my best to push the sliding metal door open as gingerly as I could, but after years, decades, of disuse and neglect, the metal wheels squealed along the track, giving away any element of surprise. Simon spun around, turning his back to Jett, and leveled his gun at me. A fact I preferred, actually. His gaze widened when he saw me before narrowing, a sneer twisting his lips.

“So fucking stupid,” he said. “I would have left you alone, but not now. Now, I’ll have to kill you too.”

He said it as if murdering me alongside Jett was an inevitability, as if it were the only possible outcome. I wasn’t certain whether Simon’s cocky delusion was a comfort or a concern. He was certain whatever confrontation was about to unfold between us, he would emerge as the victor. Unfortunately for him, as determined as he was to kill Jett, I was just as determined to have Jett survive.

Admittedly, his odds were slightly better since he waved that gun around.

“Simon, you need to stop this,” I told him. “You can stop now. You haven’t killed anyone yet. You could run, hide, and maybe, eventually, people will stop looking for you. If you kill us today, they’llneverstop looking for you, and when they find you, you’ll never see the light of day again.”

He laughed as if he’d never heard anything so funny in his life. “You’re going to die because of him. And he’s nothing. Just some slut destroying people’s lives for no reason. I’ve been watching him for months. He goes after anybody with a pulse. Hell, he even hit on other men while he was with you. I saw him dancing with other men right in front of you.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I tried to think about what he might be referring to. Then I remembered a few weeks back when Jett had been on the dance floor while I’d been working the bar. He’d been teasing me, tempting me, driving me half out of my mind. That night, we’d had some of the best sex I could remember, but Simon had twisted what he’d seen into something ugly, something it never was.

Simon glanced back over his shoulder at Jett, still on his knees, glaring up at him.

“Here’s an idea. I’m going to kill him right in front of you,” he said to Jett. “You can watch him die and know that it wasyourfault. That he died because you’re human garbage.”

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