Blaire sat curled on the couch, reading the same paragraph of her pulpy romance over and over for the last fifteen minutes. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and she found herself fidgeting with the long strands that draped in her face. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on the words staring at her from her electronic device. Instead, her mind drifted into a rehearsal of the speech she planned on sharing with Jackson.
Well, crazy story, this…I met a guy in Colorado who convinced me I was special and over the next eleven months, he took me to amazing places and then…funny thing…I ended up being in his cartel in Venezuela.
She thumbed to her mobile phone chat window and typed out a quick text. I need to tell you something when you get home, k? Just a quick share. Xoxo. Then, she pitched the phone next to her on the sofa.
Whiffs of her quick and easy supper of noodles and tomato sauce wafted up from the bowl next to her on the side-table. She’d mostly just picked at it, leaving the fork laying in the bowl with a few fat noodles stabbed onto the prongs.
Long shadows draped over the furniture, created by the lone lamp next to her. Her colorful blue, green, and gold wool wrap coiled around her legs, keeping the evening chill at bay.
When Jackson’s truck tires crunched along the driveway, her head jerked up from her tablet.
More tires crunched the driveway. She glanced out the window to see Jackson emerge from the passenger side of his truck. Then, the guy she’d seen with Jackson earlier got out of the driver’s side and rounded the front of the vehicle to bid farewell with a handshake and a clap on the shoulder. He made his way toward a four-door sedan, got in the passenger side, and drove off.
The dogs lurched from their beds and trotted to the front door, tails wagging.
“Uh, oh,” she muttered. “Can I really do this?”
She reached over and grabbed her glass of wine which rested next to her bowl of unfinished noodles. Lifting it to her lips, she took a sip. Then, she set the glass back on the side table, rose, and sauntered to the front door. She opened it, and the dogs wriggled outside to greet Jackson.
“Hey, girls,” he said, walking unsteadily from his truck. “Who are my pretty, pretty girls, huh? Who are my pretty girls?”
A goofy sort of grin spread across his face as he scratched the dogs’ muzzles. He lifted his head, and his gaze met hers.
She’d dressed in skinny jeans and a tight pink long-sleeved shirt that showed off her curves. She lifted her hand in greeting.
“Whoa. Hey to you, too, girl,” Jackson said, his grin turning from goofy to wicked.
“Hey, Jackson. Looks like you had a good time with your friends.” She smiled, leaning against the door jam.
“I did, I did.” He made his uneven way across the gravel and grass. “Logan declared himself designated driver, so he drove me home. His girlfriend followed us over here to drive him back to his truck.” He chuckled. “It’s complicated,” he added, with a swish of his hand. “And now I hope to get lucky with my woman, and we can wait on the Share-Gate bomb you texted me earlier. Do we have to?” he said, adding a dog-like whine.
Maxine and Midget barked by his side.
“You’re giving them the wrong idea,” Blaire said, her heart performing leaps in her chest.
Yes, we must talk tonight. I finally got up the courage.
“That’s my plan,” he said, with a grin. “To confuse and distract.”
She knew he wasn’t talking about the dogs.
Erasing the distance between them, he snaked his palm behind her neck and pulled her close for a whiskey-infused kiss.
Heat bloomed in her belly as his hard body pressed against her.
Signs of his erection stirred beneath his jeans. Easing back, he focused his sky-blue eyes on hers. Even with the haze of drink, his gaze was clear and steady.
His eyes always made her want to dive in deep, submerging herself in their shared bliss. Today, though, she had to get something off her chest—Karlos.
“I miss you every day when we’re not together,” she said, pressing her palms against his leather jacket. “But I made good money. I got some mega tips today.”
“Good, that’s good,” he said, leaning past her to push the door open wider.
The dogs trotted happily through the door, no doubt relieved the pack was together again.
“We can always use more cash,” he said. “Let’s get inside, shall we? I’m ready for some fun of the physical kind.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She swallowed, wanting to stall. “I didn’t recognize the one guy—Logan?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the front room.
She had to trot to keep up with his long-legged stride.
“We call him Blaze. He’s a hotshot wildland guy. One of the best. He lost his entire team a few years back in a fire,” he said.
“Oh, that’s awful. What happened?”
Jackson flopped onto the sofa, pulling her down with him. “They got trapped in a firestorm. Hauled out their shake and bake bags—their fire shelters—and hunkered down for the duration. But the fire was too intense. Everyone died but Logan. His face is scarred, though.” His expression darkened as he spoke.
“Oh, that’s horrible. The grief he must carry,” Blaire said, straddling him. “I hope you never have to go through something like that. I’ll die if I lose you too soon.”
Just the thought of potentially losing him nearly crippled her.
“Yeah,” Jackson said through a long breath. He gave her an intense, serious gaze. “It’s a possibility every firefighter has to face. And you know we all must die sometime. In every relationship, there’s an ending built-in. I hope ours doesn’t happen for a long, long time.” He punctuated his statement with a look that practically scorched her panties. “But we all practice safety. And, to comment on your statement, I did have a good time with the Grifter and Blaze. But, I admit it…I was kind of drinking to forget.”
“Forget what?” She slid her hands underneath his jacket, savoring his warm, hard muscles through his short-sleeved shirt.
He fingered a lock of hair from her face. “My brother. He stalked me at the pack test this morning. He’s so skeevy sometimes the way he just appears out of the blue. Said he was just out this morning and ‘happened’ to see me. I didn’t believe him. He was out looking for me or else he somehow knew where I was. Then, he mumbled something about ‘would I get him out of prison if he had to go.’ I said no, in case you wondered. Hell, no. Fuck, no. Just no.” He laid his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “Jake makes me tired.”
“I understand,” she said, swallowing hard. “I wonder why he said that? Do you think he’s planning something?”
Without opening his eyes, he said, “I dunno. Could be. He swears he isn’t, but you never know with an addict.”
She eyed his thick, strong neck, and then leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips found the pulsing vein in his neck, and she planted several kisses there, thanking the great whatever, that he was in her life, alive and well.
His hips rocked into her, and her resolve nearly buckled. Maybe we could do this share-thing later. He’s tired.
She pushed away from him and said, “I want to—”
Eyes still closed, he said, “I caved and bought him lunch.”
She stilled. “Bought who lunch? Jake?”
His eyelids fluttered open, and he lifted his head like it weighed a ton. “Yes, Jake. He said he hadn’t eaten all day and his eyes were clear like he wasn’t high, so…” One of his big shoulders rose and fell. “I figured what could it hurt. I didn’t give him money. I only fed him. Lord knows we’ve both had to find food for the other throughout the years. It’s kind of like breathing, I guess.” A dark expression rolled across his face. “Only it hasn’t been reciprocated for years.” His hands reached up and cupped her breasts, massaging them through her shirt. “I’m trying, Blaire. I’m really trying.”
He brought his head forward and gently bit her right nipple through her clothing.
She moaned and arched backward. “I know you are,” she said.
Tell him.
She opened her mouth, but Jackson interrupted her again, saying, “I don’t know what to do, babe. I honestly don’t. I thought my idea to go camping with Jake was a solid one. You know, a think-outside-the-box kind of idea.” He pushed his large, warm palm underneath her tight shirt, evoking ripples of pleasure. “But now I’m wondering if you’re right. We don’t know what he might do if we go camping with him.” His fingers worked their way underneath her bra, and goosebumps formed along her arms. He lifted an eyebrow. “But I don’t for a moment think he’s capable of violence.”
“Yeah. I don’t know.” Her gaze darted around the room before settling on his eyes. “I never told you this, but your brother always…ever since I met him…he always looks at me strangely. It gives me the creeps. Spending time with him in the woods is like agreeing to be in a horror movie for me.”
“Shit, Blaire.” Jackson’s brow creased. “I wish you’d have told me that. You’re right, that might change things. But, then, he’s an addict. I wouldn’t take anything he does personally.” His eyelids closed half-mast, and his fingertips deftly twirled her nipples. Lips parted, he tipped his face up for a kiss.
Her head inclined and her lips met his. The heat of their connection drove all thoughts of shared confessions out of her mind—until her brother’s voice began shouting through the lust. If we don’t know what’s going on, we can’t help you or be there for you. She struggled to free her mouth from Jackson.
“Before I met you, I was in a cartel in Venezuela,” she blurted.
He scrambled to sit up.
“What the fuck?” he said, his eyes flashing fire.
“Me. I was in a gang. I got in some big trouble. And the guy…Karlos…he’s coming to Seattle. And I think he wants to hunt me down and kill me.”
Time stopped.
Even the dogs lifted their heads from their beds and stared at her. She couldn’t decipher Jackson’s expression, but it sure looked like disappointment, disgust, or even betrayal.
Her confession had been one, big fat mistake.