The Fight for Forever: The Legend Trilogy, Book 3 (Legend Trilogy #3)(8)

Six





Legend





Lying in the dark, even with Scarlett’s head against my chest and the sound of Bump’s deep breathing coming from across the room, there’s no way in hell I can sleep.

Not after tonight. Not after everything Moses said.

Fuck. Me.

Him and Jorie? How is that even possible? Every time I’ve tried to think about it, my brain has thrown up roadblocks. But this time, I push through them. I have to consider what he said. Could he have been lying?

I wouldn’t put anything past him, and if he was trying to rile or rattle me, that would do the trick. But . . . before I rule it out as total bullshit, I have to consider that he might have been telling the truth, and the only other person who could corroborate it—that I would believe—is dead.

God, I’ve carried the guilt of her death on my conscience every day since Bump crawled home to tell me. For me, it’s always been as if I pulled the trigger myself, because if I hadn’t jacked the truck and sold Moses’s shit, he never would have come looking for me and found her and Bump instead.

But in the dark, with the woman I love lying in my arms, I have to consider the alternative.

What if Moses was telling the truth?

Jorie, what did you do? And for fuck’s sake . . . why?

No man ever wants to think about the possibility that his woman stepped out on him, but for some reason, this feels even worse.

If—big if—Moses is telling the truth, then everything I thought I knew is a fucking lie. Every single thing I’ve done to build this club and go legit . . . it was all because of a lie.

Moses could be playing me, I remind myself. But part of me, a part I don’t want to listen to, is showing me signs I never wanted to see.

Jorie and her hesitation to leave. How she would disappear for hours at a time, and come home with something new that I knew we didn’t have the money to buy. Like that Coach purse she swore was a knockoff she picked up on the street for twenty bucks, but I thought was too nice to be fake. And how she’d pick up extra shifts at the bar, but would come home smelling freshly showered with new perfume instead of like greasy fried food and beer.

My gut twists as the things that didn’t add up back then come rushing to the surface. There’s a damn good chance Moses was fucking my girl, and I didn’t want to see it.

So, what the fuck does that mean now?

Scarlett shifts on my chest, her fingers flexing and releasing against my skin like she’s dreaming.

She’s real. She’s here. She’s . . . it. The one. Everything I never knew I wanted and needed. Everything I never dreamed of having.

She even offered up a million and a half in cash without a second thought, just to try to save my ass and everything I love.

Part of me is glad that Moses said no. The stupid part that’s full of pride, no doubt. But, Jesus. I never want Scarlett to think I’m with her for the money. That doesn’t even register on the scale of attributes that made me fall in love with her. But wealth is part of her, just like coming from nothing is part of me. I may not care either way what her bank balance is, but that doesn’t change the facts.

Now . . . I’ve got to make a fucking impossible decision. I’ve been approached before about taking a dive and losing fights. There’s a shit ton of money in it if the right person comes along with a proposition. I’ve never been interested. I win or lose by my own merit.

But I’ve never had this much on the line before.

If I lose the fight, I lose my shot at digging us out of this hole I’ve put us in. I’ll keep having to deal with my investors, and their questions about how I’m running my business, and their threats of shutting me down.

Is that really so bad? a voice in my head asks, and I want to slap that motherfucker upside the head. Losing the fight on purpose isn’t an option. I may not be the most upstanding guy around, but my honor isn’t for sale.

Even if it saves Scarlett’s life? I’m sick as fuck of these devil’s advocate questions, because I don’t know how to answer, even to myself. Scarlett’s life shouldn’t be on the line, and neither should the life of anyone else I care about.

Moses’s threats can’t be ignored. He made the call that ended Jorie’s life and almost killed Bump.

But why the fuck would he kill Jorie if he was fucking her? That’s the part that still doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

I lie there as the mattress slowly leaks air, and I sink closer to the floor with each passing hour. It doesn’t matter how many times I rack my brain for solutions, nothing new emerges. I finally fall asleep as the morning light seeps in through the windows, but there’s nothing peaceful about my rest.

A nightmare ravages my dreams.

Jorie crawls toward me on her knees, reaching up to grab my hands. Black tears streak her blotchy face as she begs me to forgive her for what she did.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. You have to forgive me. I love you. I never loved him; I only loved what he could give me. He made our life easier. For all of us. You know it’s true, Gabe.”

With horror, I watch as my dream-hand pulls out a gun and presses it to her forehead like Moses did to Bump tonight.

“You lied to me. You never loved me. You couldn’t do this if you loved me. Now look what you’ve caused. Look what you’ve made me do. Look at what it’s done.”