Jackson’s hands gripped Blaire’s shoulders, and he gently guided her off his lap. Any thoughts of getting down and dirty with her had been obliterated by the bombshell that had just flown from her mouth.
He blinked. “Do you want to repeat that just so I’m certain I heard you correctly?”
“I got caught up in gang activity in Venezuela,” she said, her eyes bright with tears.
“So, you’re some kind of criminal,” he said flatly. “I’m in love with a criminal.”
The haze from the whiskey he’d consumed earlier made it hard to think straight. He raked his hand through his hair and tugged it, relishing the sharp ache.
“No, it isn’t like that,” she said in a pleading voice.
His heart beat loud and fast in his ribcage. “What’s it like then?”
“It’s like…I grew up thinking I didn’t matter. Through no fault of anyone’s other than my family was so busy, and I was so quiet I was often overlooked. I was desperate for attention. I wanted somebody…anybody to see me. Enter Karlos, a South American playboy. He approached me while I was on a hiking trip in Colorado with a friend of mine. Walked right up to me and said some stupid smooth line like, ‘At last. The girl of my dreams is right here in Colorado.’ He even got down on one knee, grabbed my hand, and kissed it.”
“And you weren’t at all suspicious,” Jackson said, in that same, flat voice.
Her lilac gaze flew to meet his eyes. “Well, sure I was. Especially when he told me, he was a billionaire. I mean, why would a billionaire want me?”
Jackson’s jaw dropped as he stared at her. “Because you’re stunningly beautiful? Because you’re amazing? Because you’re kind and funny and intense and you made me feel like a king the minute you smiled at me?”
“Made…” she said, her shoulders slumping. “I made you feel that way. Not anymore.”
“What? No. That’s not what I meant,” he said. His hands clenched into fists on their own accord. Relaxing his fingers, he took a long, deep breath, getting into what he called his “paramedic mind.” That mind gave him calm detachment in the situation at hand—and this was definitely that type of a situation. “How could you think you didn’t matter, Blaire?”
“That’s what my brother said. I called Zayden earlier. He said, of course, everyone in my family cares. They were all just so busy and consumed with their own lives when we left the house and, he said, when we were young, I was the glue that held the family together. And he said he gave up on me when I stopped returning phone calls. Everyone gave up on me. And my parents think I don’t like them now.” She sniffled as a few tears fell along her cheeks.
Agitation rocked his insides. His head swam with the effects of alcohol. It wasn’t helping him make sense of the puzzle pieces Blaire had spread before him.
“Be right back.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, he bolted to his feet and stalked to the kitchen to get some water. Standing at the kitchen sink, he filled a white teacup Blaire had left at the counter and glugged the water, trying to clear his whiskey-muzzled brain. When he returned to the front room, he reached toward the side table and retrieved the box of tissues. “Here you go,” he said, extending a bit of kindness.
This story…gang activity? It doesn’t make any sense.
A flash of gratitude skittered across her face as she plucked a tissue from the box.
He set the box between them, like a small wall.
“And Karlos is here to kill me,” she said as the color drained from her face.
“Why do you think that?” His heart sprinted, but still he made no move to reach out. He was trained to fight fire—to save lives—but how can I save her from a killer? His mind scrambled this way and that, searching for solutions.
She wiped her face but didn’t answer his question.
“Are you going to leave me?” she said, in a small voice.
“Tell me the whole story. Start from the beginning. I need all facts,” he said like he was an interrogator. “You met this guy, Karlos, in Colorado. He wooed you with his skeevy, practiced lines. Then, what?”
“When you put it that way, it makes me feel like an idiot,” she said, some of her fiery temper rising to the surface. She bunched up the tissue and glared at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, impassively, aware of how cold he sounded. He’d always been able to detach from life when it got difficult. That was how he survived. It might not be the best strategy to cope with this moment with Blaire, though. He forced a small smile. “Tell me more.”
“No,” she said. His response seemed cold, but she deserved it. She deserved whatever she got.
“I don’t recognize you right now. You’re…you’re…you’re cold. Icy. Even your face looks different.” She waved a hand at him. Then, she picked up the tissue box between them. “Let’s stack more of these, one on top of the other until we can’t see one another. What do you say? Shall we build a bigger wall?”
Something snapped inside. Any inebriation he’d felt when he’d walked through the door vanished, leaving a dull headache.
“No. That is.” He snatched the flimsy box from her hands and threw it across the room.
It thwacked against the wall, startling the dogs.
“That’s a wall,” he growled.
Blaire’s eyebrows rose.
He waggled his finger between them. “This is a difficult moment. And I still know nothing. I love you, baby, but I need a little time to process what you’ve told me before I go all gun-waving psycho.”
Maybe Blaire was exaggerating. Karlos wants to kill her? Is she overreacting?
Midget rose to her feet, approached the box, and sniffed it cautiously.
Maxine soon followed her sister’s lead.
They both turned and looked at Jackson, wagging their tails hopefully.
“Come here.”
They trotted toward him.
He patted their soft heads, seeking some sort of comfort.
He turned toward Blaire. “Tell me the story, please. I need to hear this. I can’t fix something I don’t understand.”
“You want to fix this?” she said, her expression softening.
“Yes, I want to fix this.”
Her shoulders fell away from her ears.
“But I need to understand what you’re saying. I heard how you felt invisible in your family, you were approached by a playboy, and you got involved with a gang. Oh, and Karlos is here to kill you. Don’t you think that’s a little alarming?”
She nodded.
“Is he here in Singer Springs?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “He doesn’t know where I live now. But, I…” She hesitated, her gaze skittering toward the window.
“But, you, what?” he said.
“I thought I saw someone outside the window when you were going down on me…when you asked me what was wrong.”
He let out a snort. “Shit. Why didn’t you tell me? Do you think I’m so sex-crazed I can’t stop and check on danger when it’s around? Fuck, baby.”
“I don’t know. I was scared. I thought I made it up,” she said.
Jackson’s nostrils flared. “My logical mind is reeling. There are huge gaps in this story.”
“Okay,” she said, through a noisy exhale. “So, I met Karlos. I knew he was coming onto me, but I was still flattered. He was handsome. Like movie-star handsome. Dressed impeccably. Had a gold watch on his wrist and lots of gold rings. I’d never dated anyone like that. If he was interested in me, then maybe I was a somebody, not a nobody.”
He winced, hearing her words. Blaire Edwards was more than a somebody. She was amazing.
“Okay, we’ve got the beginning,” he said. “Then what happened?”
“Well, he took me and my friend, Rayna, out that night. We went to an incredible restaurant. It was this lavish evening. He only focused on me, though. I felt bad for her. She’s no longer my friend, by the way—I stopped returning everyone’s calls after I escaped from Venezuela—but I felt bad that she was so ignored because I knew what that felt like. I tried to include her in the conversation, but Karlos would only glance at her. I was his prey.” She grimaced.
He’d only heard one word. “You…escaped?”
At that moment, he wanted to pull her close and shush away her confession, but he knew he needed to wait.
She nodded, a few more tears trailing down her face. “Within an inch of my life. I was terrified living in Caracas. Every day was a new nightmare.”
“You lived in Caracas?” All the pieces of this puzzle were scattered throughout his mind, not forming any kind of cohesive pattern.
“Yes. For two and a half months. I saw…” She sucked in a breath. “I witnessed horrible things. Like a mother and her child being gunned down when they stepped from a medical clinic. Maybe Karlos’ gang thought they had medicine. One minute they were alive and talking, and the next minute…” She held up her hand like a gun. “Blam!” Her hand flew upward, like the kickback of a gun. “Their brains were plastered all over the side of the building.”
Then, she shook her head over and over and over, as if even she couldn’t process what she’d said.
He sure couldn’t process it. He still needed more facts.
Her hands flew to her face.
Any lingering coldness in his heart melted.
He took her wrists and lowered them. “Blaire, honey. This story is skipping all around. How did we get from playboy Karlos wooing you to living in Caracas and witnessing brutal acts of murder? Let’s go in a logical sequence, all right?”
She nodded and took a long, shuddering breath. Her expression flattened as if someone had drained all the color from her soul.
“In retrospect, it seemed so practiced. He shows up. Wines and dines me. He gets my number and my address. I can’t believe I gave him my address. I never give out my address until I know someone.” She closed her eyes briefly and then resumed. “I head home. I didn’t hear from him for a few weeks, so I thought it was a fanciful moment in the mountains of Colorado.”
Her face looked rigid as if everything about the experience had erased her personality.
Maybe that’s how she had to cope. Maybe this is her survival face, the way I detach.
His head bobbed in encouragement.
“Then, the gifts began to arrive. He started small. Bouquets with his signature flower—one black rose. Expensive chocolates from France. Always with notes about how glad he was that he found me. He rarely called but when he did, oh, was he a smooth talker. So practiced. He called me mi pequeño pájaro cantor.” She stared at her hands.
“My Spanish is rusty,” he said gently. “What does that mean?”
She glanced up at him through her lashes. “My little songbird. It made me feel so precious.” Her voice sounded bitter. “And he said he was busy building his empire which was why he couldn’t call me more often. But soon he would take me to see for myself. Then, the big gifts arrived. Expensive jewelry. Exquisite clothing. At first, I shoved everything in the garage. I couldn’t open it. Then, he’d text me and say, ‘show me how that diamond necklace looks around your beautiful neck.’ Or, ‘send me a picture of you in that designer gown. I want to see the woman whom I will soon be showing off to the world.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
“He gave you diamonds?” Jackson thought about the purple crystal necklace he’d gifted her. He’d been so excited and anxious to give it to her. Now, it seemed like a cheap trinket.
“Yes. I sold everything when I returned home. Either that or gave it to thrift shops. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve got some of the jewels in a lockbox in Seattle. I couldn’t look at them but thought it foolish to give them away. I’m not that stupid.”
“You’re not stupid at all,” he said. A sense of shame washed through him, and he felt like trailer trash again. “I am. I’m the one who thought my simple gifts were the way to your heart.”
“Oh, Jackson, don’t even think that,” she said, leaning forward to grasp his hands. “No, no, no. Don’t go there. Everything about you is real and precious and amazing. All the money in the world can’t replace who you are to me.”
“Huh.” He wriggled his hands out of her grasp, pressed his palms on his thighs, and leaned back into the sofa. I’m not good enough to be with her. “Keep going with your story,” he said, back to impassive.
Her gaze slid to his, and then flitted toward the dogs.
Maxine lay in a dead sleep, but Midget stared at her. Her tail thumped against the floor a few times. She started to rise, but Jackson caught her attention and gave her a stern eye. She settled back down with a moan of protest.
Blaire chuckled. “Those dogs and their sounds. They sure let us know how they feel.” She picked at her cuticles. “I’m so sorry I never told you this. I was so scared. I shoved all thoughts of him out of my mind when I returned home. I cut myself off from my family and friends and moved to Singer Springs to start a new life. I never dreamed I’d meet someone as wonderful and genuine as you.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“Uh-huh.”
A tic formed in her eyelid.
“Okay, sir, I’ll keep going with the story,” she snapped.
“Please do,” he snapped back. “Ma’am.”
She glared at him. “Is this how we’re doing things now? All formal and cold?”
“Just tell me the damn story so I can figure out how to fix it.” His jaw tightened.
“Never mind, I can deal with it. You don’t have to involve yourself,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
He took another long breath. “No, Blaire, you can’t go through this alone. I suspect you’re suffering from PTSD at the very least.”
“Is that your professional opinion?” she said, not meeting his eyes.
“Yes. Mixed in with my ‘god, how I love this woman,’ opinion. That opinion makes me crazy. But it’s the one that counts here.” He worked his mouth back and forth.
She released a shuddering breath as if his words had shattered her glacial resolve.
“Okay,” she said through a shaky breath. She began ticking things off on her fingers. “First, gifts. Then, airline tickets to exotic locations, complete with an expense account to dress the part. And then…” She looked away and seemed to have vanished from the room. Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “And then he took me to his home,” she said, in a croaking whisper. “He was the perfect gentleman when I met him in exotic places. There was no reason to suspect him of any nefarious deeds. He was attentive. He seemed caring. He said all the right things. He didn’t push himself on me, but he seemed to work me like a pro…meaning, in retrospect, it all seemed like some sort of script. And, he promised he’d meet my family soon.” Her chest rose and fell. “I’m so glad they never met him. I might have put them at risk.”
Jackson wanted to kill Karlos with his bare hands. His breath chuffed in and out of his lungs.
“I flew in a private jet to Caracas. He wasn’t there to travel with me, as usual. I sat, alone, on this lavish jet, surrounded by hard-looking men who spoke little English. As soon as I boarded the plane, I wanted to leave. I tried to leave. I made up some flimsy excuse about how I’d forgotten something I really needed, and I had to go get it. This one guy…I called him Hard Eyes…his eyes looked like glass, and when he stared at me, he gave me the chills. He looked at his watch, looked at me, and shook his head. I think he understood more English than he let on.”
Jackson’s fingernails dug into his palms.
“I thought, ‘I need help. I can text someone.’ But who could I text? I lived this glamorous life with Karlos. I didn’t think anyone would believe me if I told them I needed help. At least I didn’t think they would. Zayden told me my family was all suspicious of Karlos. They all wondered why he never came to pick me up or meet my family. I told them he was a really busy man building an empire.” She bit down hard on her lip. Her eyelids fluttered shut. “I was such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot, Blaire.” He wanted to help. He needed to do something to protect her. A sense of helplessness noosed him. The desire to punch a hole through the wall or pump iron or do anything physical made his limbs twitch. He jerked to his feet and paced around the room. When he turned, his gaze landed on her posture.
She sat, clutching her elbows tightly at her sides.
Now, he longed to hold her, to soothe her, but he needed her to finish sharing. He couldn’t move forward without facts.
Settling back in his seat, he said, “Go on with the story.”
“When I retrieved my phone to text someone, Hard Eyes held out his palm. I protested, saying it was mine, but he insisted. He even pushed back his jacket to reveal the butt of a gun. I knew I was in trouble, then.”
Her face hardened into that colorless, lifeless expression. Even her voice changed into some monotone, emotionless version of herself.
“The entire plane ride, I planned and schemed. I’d go to the American Consulate. I’d go to the authorities. I’d find someone. But Caracas is a city in turmoil. There would be no one and no way to elude Karlos or the prying eyes of his men to get help.”
“So, what happened when you got to Caracas?” Jackson said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt.
His heartbeat thrashed wildly in his ears.
“I was met by Karlos and his black Mercedes with tinted windows. And armed guards.” Her hollow gaze looked out the living room window. “And, oh, he acted like this was going to be the very best trip, ever, I had made him so happy by coming, blah, blah, blah bullshit. I was transported to his lavish home, high in the hills above one of the many barrios. He lived like a king. Down the hill from us, people lived in squalor. Sometimes, when the wind was just wrong, the stench of the homes below wafted into the unholy glamor of Karlos’ dwelling.”
The Blaire he sat across from was virtually unrecognizable from the Blaire he knew. Her face looked hard. Her eyes appeared dull. Even her hair seemed to have lost its glossy shine. Everything about her drooped in lifeless defeat.
Jackson’s heart shattered, scattering across the room. He felt helpless, and he recognized this feeling as a quality he had lived with most of his childhood. He lifted his hand to his forehead and rubbed away the ache.
“Blaire,” he began.
“No. Let me finish,” she said. Her head dropped into her hands. “I was trapped in his mansion. I wasn’t allowed to leave. He said it was ‘for my protection,’ but I know it was so he could frighten me into doing what he wanted.”
“Which was?” Jackson said, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.
“Which was…” She began to sob. “Which was…I can’t, Jackson, I just can’t.”
Her sobs broke him. He scooted closer to her and wrapped her in his arms.
“Shh, shh, shh,” he soothed.
She pressed her damp face into his shoulder and wept. “Oh, God. I can’t breathe. This is so painful.”
He moved his hand up and down her spine in slow, steady sweeps. “Deep breaths, babe. Slow deep breaths. You can do this. We can get through this.”
He held her without speaking for a few minutes.
Finally, she pushed away and regarded him with dead eyes. “You’re so not going to want to be with me after I tell you this.”
His heart seemed to flutter and gasp in his chest. She can’t mean that. He gulped a lungful of air and let it out slowly.
“I guess you’re going to have to try me, won’t you?” he said. “Tell me everything, especially the parts you don’t want me to know about.”