Jackson: Chapter 9

White-hot anger thrummed through Jackson’s veins. It heated his breath and hardened his jaw. Not just because that asshole had grabbed her. Bruised her. And not just because she was almost fucking naked. But because she’d been there in the first place. He didn’t need to know much about the place to know it was a hotspot for dangerous activity.

River’s knee bashed his stomach. His hands tightened around her thighs. “Cut it out, River.”

She didn’t. But then, he hadn’t expected her to. She fought him right up until they reached the passenger side of her car and he set her on her feet.

Her chest was heaving, the creamy exposed skin rising and falling in quick succession.

He held out his hand, and she scowled. “You’re joking.”

“Give me your keys.” His voice was calmer but held the underlying threat of what could come.

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest, anger reddening her cheeks.

From over her head, he could see Cole heading their way.

He took a step closer, his voice low. “River, when my patience snaps, I stop asking.”

Her brow lifted. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“Depends. Are you scared?”

“No.”

She’d always hated people thinking she was scared of anything. For some reason, River associated fear with weakness.

Cole stopped a few feet away. Jackson reached into his pocket, tossing his friend the keys to his rental car. Declan would be at the car with Michele right now, ready to take her home.

Cole dipped his head before walking away.

Jackson turned back to River. “The longer we stand here, the longer we have eyes on us—because I guarantee you that asshole put his guys on us the second we left.”

Uncertainty snaked into her black eyes. He could tell she wanted to look but didn’t. Finally, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys.

He used them to unlock the door and River slipped inside. The drive to her place was done in silence. He had words to speak. A lot of them. But they could wait.

He drove into River’s driveway. The car had barely stopped before she jumped out.

Cursing under his breath, Jackson put the car into park and climbed out. River stopped at the door, arms remaining folded. It appeared that was her new favorite stance.

He used the keys to open the door and slipped inside first.

“By all means, come right in, Jackson.”

He ignored her words, doing a quick scan of the house before moving back into the living area.

River was frowning. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your place.”

“For what?”

“Remember what you told me yesterday?” He stopped in front of her. “And then tonight, you walk into Mickey’s club, into his space, after you promised me you wouldn’t. You still wondering why I scanned your house for threats?”

At least she had the sense to look a bit guilty at that. “First of all, you said you’d have me watched and I have no doubt you would have stopped me if I hadn’t agreed, so I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“Damn straight I would have stopped you.” The woman wouldn’t have gotten within a ten-mile radius of that place, let alone stepped inside doing God knows what while wearing a bra for a top.

“Secondly,” she continued, “I’m just a woman, and in Mickey’s eyes, that makes me weak. I doubt he’ll come after me.”

“So what do you know?”

She sighed, shooting a glance behind him in the direction of her bedroom. “Jackson, I’m tired. Can we do this in the morning?”

Something in his chest tightened at how dismissive she was being. If the woman thought she was getting rid of him, she was wrong.

He toed off his shoes before stepping around her and dropping to the couch.

River frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping on your couch.” He tugged his shirt over his chest.

Her sharp gasp whipped through the room. “No.”

When he looked up, he saw her eyes weren’t meeting his anymore, they were on his chest. And they were dark.

Warmth heated his body at having her eyes on him.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Finally, her eyes flashed back up. “Jackson—”

“I need to know what’s going on. The full story.” Because he sure as hell hadn’t gotten it last time. “But you’re right. It’s late, and we both need sleep.”

“And you can’t just come back in the morning?” For the first time since arriving in town, River actually looked worried.

He rose to his feet, and she took a step back. Was she nervous about how she reacted to him?

Me too, honey.

“I don’t like you being entangled in danger.”

“I have a gun,” she argued.

He only just stopped the cringe. “I’ve seen you shoot, Rae.”

She frowned, back straightening. “I was a teenager then. I’m better now.”

When she finally dropped her arms, his gaze zeroed in on the reddened bruises around her arm. The muscles tensed in his limbs. He took a step forward, gently grasping her elbow.

“What are you—” She stopped when he lifted her arm.

When he looked into her eyes, it took all his strength to control his breathing. “I don’t want you anywhere near that asshole. I want you as far away from him as possible.”

River swallowed. For once, she was silent, her gaze skirting between his eyes.

His thumb gently stroked over the bruise. And when her gaze dipped to his lips, memories of their last kiss skittered through his mind. It had his blood roaring between his ears.

Without thinking, his other hand cupped her cheek. Touching her took away some of the turmoil in his head. It dimmed some of the suffocating fear that had consumed him when that guy had grabbed her.

His voice lowered until it was almost a whisper. “I need you to be safe, River.” And he didn’t just need her to be safe because he owed it to her brother. It was so much more than that.

“Why?”

“Because the thought of losing you from this world…it’s like losing a part of myself.”

The good part. The part that made sense.

Her mouth slid open, a short gasp escaping her lips. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if she was going to kiss him or kick him out.

She did neither. “I’ll get you a pillow and blanket.”

When she moved away from him, his hands dropped. And he was left wondering if she was escaping from him before they did something stupid…like kiss again.

River rolled onto her back, closing her eyes.

Good God, she was tired. She’d barely slept a wink all night, way too aware of the large, sexy man in her living room.

Her cheeks heated at the memory of his thumb skirting over the skin on her arm. His hand on her cheek…

She scrunched her eyes tighter, only just holding in the groan. She’d thought he’d kiss her again. And what was worse, a part of her had wanted him to.

She could not let those glorious muscles and honey-brown eyes sucker her in. Not just because sixteen years ago, he’d ripped her heart from her chest and trampled on it. But because he’d been absent from her life ever since.

Nope. No way. No how.

Pushing up into a seated position, River frowned. Was that bacon she smelled? No. Jackson would be too busy beating his chest and warming up his voice for another round of arguing to cook any food.

She climbed out of bed, barely sparing her sleep shorts and tank top a glance before heading into the kitchen.

Okay, maybe she was still asleep because it looked like a bare-chested Jackson was cooking bacon on her stove. And Lord Almighty, did he look good. His shoulders were broad, his biceps thick, and when he reached for the tongs, the muscles in his back rippled.

Not. Good. Certainly not for her low self-control.

When he turned his head, he smiled. Not a half smile or a smirk. A full, white-teeth-on-display, hint-of-a-dimple-showing smile.

She hadn’t seen that smile in…well, a long time. And it completely disarmed her.

“Morning, Rae. Hungry?”

A secret trill hummed through her veins at the way he used her middle name. It had always been his special name for her. And she loved it. A reaction she would never tell another living soul.

She walked slowly across the room, studying the set table and the already poured juice. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with the brooding bear of a man who dragged me out of the club last night?”

He turned back to the stove and his chuckle filtered through the room right into her chest. “Maybe the bear had a good sleep and calmed down.”

Hm. Must have been a really good sleep.

He turned off the stove, lifted a plate of bacon and eggs, and set them on the table. Next, he grabbed toast from the toaster and popped them on the plates. “Take a seat, and I’ll grab the coffees.”

He was making coffee, too? Figured. Couldn’t be the perfect dreamboat of a man without coffee.

River sat behind a plate, watching with wary eyes as he moved around the kitchen. She knew exactly what he was doing. The man was aware his tactics last night hadn’t worked, so he was trying something different. Not wearing a shirt was probably another way of disarming her. And it was working. She’d always been a sucker for semi-naked Jackson.

He placed a coffee in front of her before stepping away and grabbing his shirt from the couch, tugging it over his head.

And even though she’d just been internally grumbling about his bare chest, disappointment washed over her abdomen when it was covered. She forced her attention to the food, placing some eggs on her plate.

It wasn’t until Jackson was opposite her that she broke the silence in the room. “So, is this where you ask me to tell you all my secrets?”

To be honest, she was coming around to telling him anyway. After last night and the way Mickey had grabbed her arm, not to mention the guilt she’d felt about dragging Michele to the club…yeah, she probably needed Jackson in her corner. But she refused to be pushed out of everything.

“You can tell me now or later, I don’t mind.”

She swallowed a forkful of scrambled egg. Oh, jeez, did the man have to be a good cook, too? “Why are you being so nice to me?”

His brows rose, mouth tilting up at the edges. “Should I be less nice?”

“Yes.” His anger was easier to deal with. She had no defenses against nice Jackson. He should be growling at her to spill her guts until he got each and every word he was after. He should be as stone-cold mad as he was last night when she’d returned to that club after telling him she wouldn’t.

“Maybe I realized that anger wasn’t the best approach.”

With her. He didn’t say the words out loud, but he didn’t have to. And he was right. His anger had always stirred her own. Made her dig in her heels and resist whatever he wanted.

She popped a piece of bacon into her mouth. It was the perfect amount of crispy and soft.

“How’s the photography going?” he asked.

Now her brows rose. He was asking about her work? “Good. With the rise of social media has come the rise in food and beverage photography.”

“How’d you get into it?”

“I styled the meals for Michele’s business and uploaded them to her social media accounts. People saw and started asking if I could do the same for them.” She lifted her shoulder. “I wasn’t earning any money from landscape photography, so food styling started paying my bills.”

Photographing food wasn’t her passion. Not even close. She loved nature. But she’d quickly realized that if she wanted to be semi-independent and move out of her parent’s home, she had to adjust her professional expectations.

She swallowed another mouthful of bacon. “It was actually how I met Mickey.”

Jackson paused, fork midway to his lips. “You took pictures for him?”

She nodded. “I styled and took photos of the drinks at the club. That was about four months ago. He flirted with me. Asked me to dinner, and we just…started dating. It was casual.”

She watched as Jackson’s eyes darkened before he spoke. “When did he start hitting you?”

Her mouth slid open. “How did you—”

“I visited your parents yesterday.”

Of course. Ryker had been awake when she’d gotten home that night and had seen the bruises immediately. Her dad had seen them the next day. Both of them had lost their minds.

“He only hit me the one time. I broke up with him that night and told him he was never going to touch me again.”

She was pretty sure Jackson’s teeth actually ground against each other. “Did Ryker visit the club that same night?”

“Yes. He was so angry when he saw my face. He marched straight down there, and no amount of begging him not to go could have stopped him.”

“Good,” Jackson growled. The way he said it had the fine hairs on her arms standing on end.

She pushed the scrambled egg around her plate, no longer hungry. Suddenly, she straightened. “Want to go for a walk?”

She needed air and sun and nature. All the things that calmed her.

Jackson studied her for a moment. He knew. He’d always known about her need for the outdoors. He gave a short nod. “Sure.”

She quickly went to her room and threw some clothes on before they stepped outside.

The calm was immediate. It washed over her limbs, warming her skin. A few minutes of silence passed before she finally looked up at him. That’s when she almost tripped over her own feet. Jackson was looking back at her. In that same dark and intense way he often did.

“What were you doing at the club last night?” he asked.

“You first.”

He dipped his head. “That’s fair. You mentioned you thought there was more to Ryker’s death than we knew and that the answer was at the club. And after your parents mentioned you’d dated that asshole owner, I wanted to check the place out myself.” He nudged her shoulder, and just that small contact had awareness skirting up her arm, into her chest. “Your turn.”

She swallowed. “After Kenny—one of the bartenders—confirmed that Ryker had been visiting the club, I remembered that something was going on in the basement. On Friday nights, people used to line up to go down there. Mickey wouldn’t tell me what that was all about.”

She paused, gaze catching on a small bird as it landed on a branch in front of her.

“It was Friday’s when Ryker used to disappear all night,” she continued quietly.

“Don’t tell me you snuck down there, Rae.”

“I had to.”

His exhale was loud. “Dammit, River! What if he’d caught you?”

“He didn’t.”

Jackson touched her arm, pulling them both to a stop. “If he killed Ryker, what do you think is stopping him from killing you?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t believe Ryker’s dead.”