Jett inched closer and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Brooke, I told you already Alessandro secrets are dangerous. I know you don’t believe me, but I made a promise to protect you.” His eyes were dark, glistening, demanding something from me that was difficult to give.
My heart hammered against my chest as I was torn between two options. Do it, or don’t do it.
But did I really have a choice?
“Okay,” I said before I could change my mind. “Let’s do it.”
“I’ll be careful. First thing tomorrow I’ll have a professional fix it and no one will know.”
“Okay.” I nodded, trusting him completely.
“Do you want to wait upstairs?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I want to stay and help. Where do we start?”
Jett smiled. His thumb gently grazed my cheek. “Let’s find a screwdriver, a hammer, anything that can puncture a wall. If we can’t find any tools, we’ll drive back to my house to get some.”
“Can we change first? I’d rather not ruin Sylvie’s dress.”
“Sure.” He kissed the tip of my nose and then we headed upstairs so I could slip into my old clothes. But more than that, I was eager to bide for time. If only for a few minutes, or as long as it’d take me to calm my shaking fingers and racing heart.
Chapter 20
It was shortly after eight p.m. when we broke through the wall. I had changed into jeans, a long sleeved shirt and dark blue trainers, and Jett had slipped back into his jacket. Whoever had put up the wall was in a hurry and went for drywall instead of bricks and mortar. Jett drilled a tiny hole and expanded it to several inches so he could peer inside. Although we didn’t find a torch, there were enough candles in the house. We lit one and holding it up, Jett pushed his arm through the small opening. I stayed a few steps back, not daring to look inside, painfully aware that no one would ever hide something if it wasn’t terrible.
“It’s okay, baby. Don’t be scared,” Jett whispered, his calm tone making the shivers running down my spine even worse.
Why the hell did he have to whisper? There was no one in the house and the sound of his voice echoing from the walls was creepy, creating ice-cold knots inside my stomach.
“There’s a desk,” Jett said. Did I detect a hint of disappointment?
“A desk?” I asked, trying to look over his shoulder. Why would anyone build a wall to hide a desk? “Let me see.”
The candle cast enough light to make out a small mahogany desk. No other furniture.
“Take down the drywall,” I said. According to Jett we had no problems making a tiny opening because the wall barely measured an inch in width. I had seen it done before on TV and reckoned if someone could do it, then Jett.
“Are you sure about that? Gypsum is easily broken and makes a huge mess.”
I nodded. “Just do it. We’ll worry about it later.”
“Hold this.” Jett pushed the burning candle into my hand and then kicked once right next to the small hole. And again until the wall gave in and a chunk of it crumbled to our feet in a heap of debris and dust. It wasn’t large but big enough for someone petite to squeeze through but definitely not meant for Jett’s size. His shoulders would barely fit through.
“Let me try,” I said. Of course I didn’t want to go in there alone. But I was tired, and frankly, I didn’t care. I just wanted to get it over and done with. And maybe a tiny part of me was eager to impress Jett—after all he did the hard work.
“Stay here,” Jett said. “You don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”
I hated it when people saw me as fragile. My life had never been cushioned and I wasn’t going to let his overprotectiveness change that now.
“I’m handling this on my own,” I said, ready to argue if need be. Jett regarded me calmly but didn’t argue. Hysteria bubbled up somewhere at the back of my throat. I swallowed hard to get rid of it and walked past him. Holding the candle up to illuminate the way, I squeezed through the opening. My heart hammered so loud I was sure Jett could hear it.
The room was dark and the air stale, swallowing up the artificial light falling in through the hole. The candle cast a faint and ghostly glow on the concrete floor, but it wasn’t enough to reach the dark corners. My heart hammered harder as my mind began to conjure up images of someone hiding in the corner, ready to jump out and kill me. It wasn’t just dark, it was dusty and creepy. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here but not before I brought to fruition what I came to do.
Jett was right. The room had been divided, though not in half. This part was almost as large as a living room. The desk was set up close to the wall. There was no chair, no other furniture.
“Brooke, do you see anything?” Jett peered inside.
“Nothing,” I croaked. My mouth was so dry I cleared my throat in the hope to get rid of the fear choking me.
The candlelight fell on a light switch on the wall to my right. I switched it on and an overhead neon light bulb flickered a few times. Bathed in glaring brightness, the room looked like any other. I breathed a sigh of relief and pressed a hand against my chest to calm my racing heart. But it was hard because the walls creeped me out. With no doors and no escape route, I felt as though I was trapped in a psychiatric ward.
“Are you okay?” Jett called. He sounded impatient and desperate to jump into the middle of the action. He was definitely not the kind to watch from a distance. Struggling, he squeezed through the hole. I motioned him to come in. He reached me in a few long strides, grinning.