Treasure Your Love

“A charity called ETNAD.” Kenny paused, waiting for our reaction.

“Never heard of it,” Jett said.

“You better have.”

“Why?”

“Let’s see. First of all, it’s a lot of money for one charity.” Kenny leaned forward until his elbows rested on the kitchen bar. “And then there’s the fact that the attorney your father called is the same guy handling the Lucazzone estate’s affairs. He works for Alessandro Lucazzone and Brooke.”

That was the moment I heard the needle drop. Or maybe it was a bomb. The silence in the room was so ominous a shudder ran down my spine.

“Clarkson?” All of a sudden I felt faint.

Even Jett looked up and asked, “Why would my father transfer money to him? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It didn’t make sense to me, either, until I told Sylvie and something completely unrelated crossed her mind. If she’s right, we might’ve found our connection between your father and why he wants the book.” Kenny smiled pleased, enjoying every second of his show. “She mentioned Clarkson’s slanted handwriting. Brooke, when Clarkson sent you letters he wrote your name and address on the envelope, right?” I nodded, unsure where he was heading. “Well, Sylvie thinks the handwriting’s the same as the one in the book.”

“Is she sure?” Jett asked. “For all we know, he could have an assistant. It could be her handwriting.”

I grimaced. Clarkson most certainly had an assistant, but would he really drag her into any dirty affairs and risk exposure?

“No,” Kenny said slowly. “Sylvie believes to remember. So it’s a wild guess, I know, which is why I brought this in the hope you might recognize it.”

He pulled the black book out of his bag and pushed it across the table toward me. I flicked to the first page. The handwriting was slanted and old-fashioned, but I didn’t remember whether it was analogous with Clarkson’s handwriting because I never paid attention to the small details. Who would have?

“What makes her think it’s the same?” I asked.

“She recognized the letters ‘B’ and ‘S.’ The curved ‘B’ and ‘S’ in your name look pretty much like those.” He pointed to the “S” in Statham and “B” in Bradley.

“How would she remember something like that?” It wasn’t really a question; more like awe. Sylvie referred to herself as a scatterbrain, but her keen eye for detail never ceased to amaze me.

Kenny answered anyway, “She said not many people write like this anymore, which is why she remembered it so well. The possibility didn’t cross her mind until I told her about the money transfer.” He let out a long breath. “Do you have anything from Clarkson? An envelope, signature, anything at all?”

I lapsed into silence as I tried to remember. “The estate’s financial reports were stolen along with the envelope, but before I met with Clarkson for the first time, he sent me a letter. I might still have it at the apartment. No promises, though.”

It had to be there because I had never sorted through my stuff, what with Jett lying to me and my consequent heartbreak, the sudden departure to Italy and our getting back together. And upon our return, I had barely had time to grab some of my stuff before I moved in with him.

“Where’s Sylvie anyway?” I passed the book to Jett absentmindedly. “I thought she was coming today.”

“It’s her employee induction day,” Kenny said.

“She took the job with Delta & Warren?” I asked surprised. “I thought you guys were going on a road trip.”

“We still are. Sylvie’s trying to get two weeks off.” Kenny hesitated, grinning. “It’s her first day and she’s bargaining already.”

“Sounds like her,” I said, my attention returning to the book in Jett’s hand. “I’m sorry, Kenny. I don’t recognize the handwriting, but I’ll head over to our apartment and get the envelope so we can compare it.”

My head was spinning with facts. I massaged my throbbing temples. “Even if it were Clarkson’s handwriting, it still wouldn’t make sense why Alessandro’s attorney would write down a few names and numbers, then hide the book in his client’s basement.”

As I spoke the words, I realized I had never taken into account the possibility that my lawyer might not be the kind person I thought he was.

“Unless Clarkson’s also involved in the club and they all work together,” Jett said, “and as such the book has importance for all of them.”

“That’s what I figured,” Kenny replied matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry, mate,” he added to Jett.

“My father led me to believe he and Lucazzone were enemies. If Clarkson works for both of them, then my father lied to me.” Jett’s entire demeanor had changed. His eyes were like layers of frost, devoid of compassion. “Yet another lie.”

“What do you know about the charity that received the money?” I asked, changing the subject.

Kenny shrugged, signaling he didn’t know more than we did. “It’s private. Apparently it supports the fine arts. That’s all I could find out.”

ETNAD? The letters echoed in my head. ETNAD. Why did it sound so familiar when I was sure I hadn’t heard of it before?

I grabbed a pen and wrote down the name to visualize it.

“Can you run it through a database or something and find out what the letters could possibly stand for?” Jett asked.

“I was trying to show you, but you were too busy munching,” Kenny said mockingly, and opened a new window in his browser. “The most likely—and only answer—is Electronic or End Transactions Numerical Analysis Data.”

They continued to chatter, their words no longer reaching me because my brain kept circling around the charity’s name.

ETNAD

So far and yet so close.

I thought of Scrabble and possible combinations.

ETNAD. Five letters. The only five-letter word I could think of was anted, but the answer was on the tip of my tongue. I tapped the pencil against my lips as I fought hard to grasp it. When it didn’t come to me, I began to combine four-letter words on a blank sheet of paper.

“Are you playing Scrabble?” Jett asked. Nodding, I shushed him and read through what I had so far: etna, ante, dean, date, neat, tend, dent. Each of them sounded familiar, trying to tell me something, and yet they weren’t quite right. And then I read from right to left and my blood froze in my veins.

ETNAD was DANTE.

Dante.

The man who had wanted me. A cold chill made me shudder as I recalled the events before Liz was raped.

“Brooke?”

“What?” I glanced up into Kenny and Jett’s worried faces. Had I spoken out loud?

“What’s wrong?” Jett asked, his hand touching my arm gently but protectively. My glance fell on the pencil in my hand, broken in two. Jett’s fingers burned my skin, or maybe I was frozen, not just my mind, but my entire body. “You okay?” Jett persisted.

“The charity your father’s involved with,” I began, my voice shaking, “if you read ETNAD from right to left, it spells Dante.”

I didn’t have to speak the obvious. Jett’s face turned into a mask of fury, and his jaw set. His fists balled, and something sparkled in his eyes.

“Fuck! That sick bastard.” He wiped a hand over his face, but it did nothing to diminish his anger. “He lured you in.”

Kenny looked from Jett to me, the confusion on his face lifting, meaning Jett must’ve told him everything. “Anyway, guess where he called from when the explosion happened?”

“I don’t give a shit,” Jett cut him off. “I have a bigger problem now. He’s still involved with the club, and there’s no doubt in my mind he’s responsible for what happened to Brooke. I need to know why.”

“Why don’t you ask him, Jett?” Kenny asked quietly. “Your father’s staying at the Richton Hotel, room number 113, under the name Paul Anderson. I’ll go with you and we can—”

Ignoring him, Jett walked out and slammed the door shut.

“Tell him I’ll be waiting for him outside,” Kenny said and smiled apologetically. “Sorry. It’s a fucking mess.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t expect it any other way.” I returned his weak smile and followed after Jett.

I found him in his former room and closed the door behind me. In the silence of the walls, it was just Jett and I, two tormented souls. From the doorway, I watched him retrieve a gun from a drawer and check that it was loaded.

“Please don’t hurt him,” I whispered. “We don’t know for sure what’s going on.”

“How much more proof do you need, Brooke? He’s a fucking liar,” Jett hissed. “He claimed he and Lucazzone hadn’t been in contact for years. And then I find out he transferred money to a bogus charity that’s connected to the club in some way.” He shrugged into his leather jacket and squeezed the gun inside the holster at his back.

I moved closer until we were mere inches apart. “Please, Jett. Don’t.”

He scanned my eyes, his frown deepening as he cupped my face in his hands.

“Look, I know what I’m doing. Okay? My father’s my problem, and I have to deal with him by myself. The least he’ll do is answer my fucking questions.”

“Let me come with you, then,” I pleaded. I had a horrible feeling about the whole situation.

Jett shook his head vehemently. “You’re staying here. After what he’s done to you, I don’t want him anywhere near you, Brooke.”

I moistened my lips as I considered my words. There were so many loopholes that I just couldn’t wrap my head around the entire picture.

“He could have killed me in the car, but he didn’t.” I held onto Jett’s arms, forcing him to listen. “His driver was shot. He arranged for a fake identity and money. He didn’t have to do any of that, which his why I don’t believe it.”

Judging from his expression, Jett didn’t believe me. Even I found it hard to believe, but the arguments inside my head kept telling me Robert Mayfield was innocent. The thought that Jett’s father not only hated me so much he wanted me out of his son’s life but also hated me so much he wanted to kill me was too wicked to believe. He had to be innocent, because I couldn’t imagine anyone being so horrific and cruel.

“He threatened your family and friends’ lives. Isn’t that good enough a reason for you?” Jett asked. “As long as I don’t know what’s going on, you’re staying here, and Kenny’s keeping watch on you.”

He also threatened your life, but that I didn’t add. Instead I looked up into Jett’s beautiful eyes. My heart raced wildly at the thought of him going in alone.

“Your father has bodyguards. I want Kenny to come with you.”

A few moments of silence passed between us.

“Okay.” He sighed, giving in. “But you’re staying here. I’ll have Brian watch you.”