Hard Lessons

by Jasmin Quinn

  It didn’t matter. He’d misspoken anyway as Michael said from his side of the living room, “Don’t you fucking say Isabelle’s name.”

  What could he do? Jack wondered. Under any other circumstances, he would have been hammering Black’s head through the hotel window by now. And his need to do so was rising each second Black delayed taking him to Mira. He looked past Michael to the door Michael had entered the room by. He stood up, Michael did too. “Is Mira there, in that room?”

  He walked past Michael, toward the door, fully expecting a bullet between his shoulder blades, but none came as he opened the door and looked in. They were both there, Isabelle and Mira. He stepped into the room, in the dim light as a wave of relief hit him. Mira was curled into a chair, eyes red from crying, but otherwise appeared unharmed. He walked to her, fell to his knees and pulled her into his arms.

  Forty-Four

  Michael followed Jack into the room. He hadn’t wanted to reunite them so quickly, but everything about this game was falling flat and he knew it. He stood in the doorway and watched as Jack barely spared Isabelle a glance as he almost ran to the lawyer, falling to his knees and embracing her. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he said hugging her to him, holding her tight. “I wasn’t careful enough, I should have been more careful.” Mira was crying again, clinging to him, her arms around his shoulders.

  Michael looked to Isabelle. Her face was unguarded for a few fleeting seconds as she watched her ex-husband embrace the woman. Relief was her primary emotion, not anger or jealously at being displaced, not affection. Just relief. Then she glanced at Michael and he saw her love for him. For the first time in a long time he could see clearly.

  He dropped his eyes to the floor and leaned against the doorframe. Mira was nothing to him, someone he admired for her skills, her intelligence, but she was weak. She cried too easily and showed none of the bravado and tenaciousness that she’d exhibited when addressing the media. Isabelle, in contrast, would not be so easily broken in the same circumstance, would hold her own, would kill to protect herself and Michael.

  Michael wanted to laugh. He’d worried that Isabelle would make him weak, and she had in a way, but through his own stupidity. Mira on the other hand, would make Jack weak. He was on his knees, back to Michael, holding her, no thought to the danger he was in. Or maybe he knew how vulnerable he was. Was the fucker noble enough to trade his life for hers?

  “The reunion’s over,” Michael said bluntly.

  Isabelle caught his eyes and gave her head a small shake. “Don’t,” she mouthed softly.

  Their attention was drawn back to Creed and Mira as they stood, Jack in front, shielding Mira. “Let her go, Black. She’s not part of this.”

  “Why?”

  Michael wanted to hear Jack plead for her life but didn’t feel the satisfaction he expected when Jack said, “Please.”

  The silence stretched in the room; Isabelle stood frozen like an ice statue, Mira clung to Jack and Jack held Michael’s eyes for a few seconds before dropping them to the floor. Michael understood. Jack was giving him this win. It was that fucked up.

  “Go,” he said. “Both of you. Just get the fuck out.”

  Jack hesitated. “Is this over?”

  “Is it?” Michael countered.

  “It is for me.” A promise from criminal to criminal that there would be no retaliation.

  Michael nodded and stepped further into the room, unblocking the exit.

  Jack pulled Mira with him, past Michael, not once glancing at Isabelle.

  After they were gone, Michael turned to Isabelle and regarded her. She was watching him warily, not sure what to say or do. He didn’t know either.

  “What now?” Isabelle tried to keep her voice neutral.

  Michael walked up to her, stood over her, hands in his pockets contemplating her. She stared back at him, her eyes pooling with tears. He kissed her softly, moving his hands from his pockets to her waist. “I’m the luckiest man in the world, Isabelle. I have you.”

  A few tears slid past Isabelle’s defenses. “Does that mean we’re okay?”

  “I’ll try,” Michael said. It was the only promise he could make.

  Forty-Five

  Jack knew they weren’t clear yet as he and Mira stepped out of the suite and into a lobby guarded by five hostile men with semi-automatic rifles. Their leader blocked the elevator as they approached it. He said to one of his men, “Check on the boss. Make sure he and the missus are okay. Make sure this is how it’s supposed to go down.”

  Jack scowled at his stupidity. “If it wasn’t how it was supposed to go down, do you think I would be stupid enough to walk out here into your circle of trigger-happy fucks?”

  The asshole stared down at him, “Just because he let you leave now doesn’t mean I won’t hunt you down and cut your heart out at a later date.”

  Jack squeezed Mira’s hand as she gasped at the aggression. He hoped the asshole would hunt him down but now, he needed to shut up, not escalate the situation. He needed to get Mira out of there. The other guard returned. “All clear. They’re free to leave.”

  The leader hesitated then stepped to the side fractionally as he pushed the elevator button. “You’re lucky I’m a nice guy,” he sneered.

  And you’re lucky I have Mira with me, Jack thought as he stepped into the elevator keeping Mira shielded with his body. He hit the lobby button and held her to him. She seemed so small and fragile, a wisp of her former self. Regret and despair swamped him as he cradled her in his arms. She didn’t deserve any of this, not him, not his life, not the things that were happening to her. But he was a selfish man and it overshadowed his love for her. Her freedom was the one thing he couldn’t give her, even if she wanted it.

  When they reached the lobby, the manager approached him, concern etched into his features. Jack stopped, his arms still shielding Mira. He said quietly, “Michael Black and his party are about to check out. If they don’t do so in an hour, call me.” He thought about what he would do. He couldn’t go in guns blazing, he had no desire to kill Isabelle. He was furious that Michael would bring her into such a dangerous situation. But Michael was no idiot. He never intended to stay at Jack’s hotel, just wanted to play with him, show Jack his vulnerabilities, bring him to his knees. “When he leaves, have the room swept by security before letting cleaning staff in.”

  The manager nodded, and Jack drew Mira past him to the front doors. He could see that security was on alert, they knew something was going down, knew the boss was vulnerable. He had good people, he thought as he steered Mira out the doors.

  As they approached the car, Jack saw Andre leaning against it.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Andre shrugged, “Was worried. If you didn’t come out in another 10 minutes, I was going in.” He opened the back door and Jack helped Mira in before sliding in next to her.

  “You would have got killed,” Jack said as Andre slipped in behind the wheel and started the car. Jack pulled Mira into his arms and held her. She’d managed to keep herself contained as they left the hotel, but now that they were in the car, out of danger she started weeping and shaking. Not speaking and he was worried for her. She was traumatized.

  Andre hesitated, then said carefully, his eyes glued to the traffic. “I fucked up with Hector. Gotta make amends.”

  Jack nodded. “We’ll talk about where it went wrong later.”

  Once they were back at his guarded estate, he peeled Mira’s clothes off and then his own, pulling her into the shower with him. She was wearing Shonan’s blood, splattered on her clothes, in her hair, on her face. He turned the heat up as high as they could tolerate and held her as the water washed the horror off her. She was shaking, holding him, weeping still. He had to convince her to let him step back so he could wash her hair, soap her body. She stood almost catatonic as he lathered her then rinsed.

  Once she was clean, he pulled her from the shower and gently towel dried her body and her hair. He carried her to
his bed, tucked the covers around her and urged her to sleep. When he started to leave, she cried out for him and so he stayed, crawling into the bed, pulling her into his arms and holding her until her weeping gave way to soft even breaths.

  It was late, but Jack needed to call Rob. Needed to discuss what to do next. He gently disengaged from Mira, then slipped out of the bed, donned a bathrobe and entered the living room. He dialled Rob as he poured himself a scotch, then took the bottle and glass to the couch and sat down.

  “Jack,” Rob’s voice was threaded with relief.

  “Can you come out?”

  “Almost there. Andre called.”

  Jack hung up, tossed back his scotch and savoured the burn as it slid down his throat. Then he went to the cabinet and picked up another glass. A soft rap at the door signaled Rob’s arrival and Jack let him in. Rob’s appearance reflected how Jack was feeling, exhausted, wound-up and edgy. He poured Rob a scotch and handed it off.

  Rob sat down. “What do we do?”

  That was Rob, all action. Not how did it go? How’s Mira? He didn’t need to know the details; the outcome was satisfactory. Jack grinned, a sense of relief that the two people he loved most in the world were both safe and with him. “Black will be gone by now but stop by the hotel and check anyway. Make sure the suite is swept.” He paused as he considered his next moves. “Maybe put some feelers out to make sure he’s left town. See if he has any associates that might continue to harass us.”

  Rob nodded as he took a sip of scotch. “Are you gonna reach out to Savisin?”

  It was a good question. Initially he’d thought that Rusya Savisin might be the one responsible for the attacks but when Michael Black’s name was raised, Jack knew the Vancouver Godfather was not involved. It might be worth having a chat with Rusya to see if he could point to any of Black’s associates. “Maybe,” he said to Rob.

  Rob yawned as he nodded, swallowed his scotch and stood up. “I’ll sleep downstairs tonight, too late to drive back. Go to your woman. We can talk tomorrow.”

  When Jack returned to bed, Mira was gone and his heart thudded in his throat. He found her in her bedroom, curled up in the blankets, not sleeping. Her eyes open and gazing at him. “Come back to bed,” he said softly

  “I want to stay here, please,” Mira replied, the last word locked on a sob.

  Jack studied her and debated but then nodded. A man she worked with was shot to death in front of her, she’d been kidnapped, her life threatened. She needed time to sort through it all; he needed to be patient with her. Still the hurt filtered through him at her refusal of him.

  The next morning, she didn’t show for breakfast and he waited as long as he could before checking in on her. She was awake, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Why aren’t you up?” he asked.

  She looked over at him, hovering in the doorway, soft brown eyes filled with pain. “I can’t get up this morning, Jack,” she whispered. “I need you to leave me alone.”

  He stepped back from her words. They were like a slap to his face. It hurt. Fucking love. But he said nothing, just left. He told himself that it would pass.

  But it didn’t.

  It was like that all week. She stayed in her bed, in her room until he left, then, according to Sophia, she got up, picked at her breakfast, then returned to her bed. When Jack tried to talk to her, she refused to engage. He offered her a therapist.

  “I don’t need a fucking shrink,” she’d snarled when he suggested it.

  He almost reprimanded her but bit the words down. She was grieving. He understood that much. But it was turning into a farce. Living in his home, belonging to him, but pining away for a dead man. Shonan was lucky the bullet killed him.

  The turning point came a week later, when Jack came home earlier than usual from the club to find Mira on the couch, an empty bottle of red wine on the coffee table, another partially empty and she, sitting blankly, sipping from a large wine glass.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he said after he set the lock and sat down.

  Her eyes were dull and a little unfocused as she looked at him. “Getting drunk, you asshole,” she snapped.

  Jack inhaled to settle his fury. It didn’t quite work as his voice came out ugly. “Why? You think drinking is going to make your grief for Shonan go away?”

  She took a defiant swallow and then another, refusing to answer him.

  He yanked the glass from her hand and slammed it down on the coffee table. “Answer me!” he roared.

  Tears pooled in Mira’s eyes, but her frown was vicious. “Go fuck yourself, Jack!”

  He sucked in his breath, coiled his hands into fists and held them on his thighs. “I can’t believe you, Mira. What exactly was going on between you and Shonan?”

  Mira furrowed her brow and reached for her wine glass, taking a drink. “This has nothing to do with Shonan, you asshole. He’s gone, I’m sad about that, I miss him. But it’s you, Jack. I don’t want to be with you anymore, I don’t want to be in your bed. You fucking lied to me. Again.”

  Jack’s confusion didn’t abate his anger. He snapped the wine glass from Mira’s hand and threw it across the room, shattering it and making her jump. “What did I lie about this time, Mira? We’ve barely talked since you’ve been back because you won’t let me near you! What the fuck is this about?”

  “It was her, Jack. Isabelle! Your fucking ex-wife. The one you dumped me for five years ago.” She stood up, the tears coursing down her face again. “You fucking prick!” She viciously hurled the words at him. “I hate you!”

  Jack stood up too. He was confused. “I don’t understand, Mira.”

  “Oh fuck, Jack. She’s perfect. Mother Theresa in stilettos.” Mira picked up the wine bottle and stepped out of Jack’s reach as she took a swig. “Who wouldn’t pick her? And what happened to me was about her, wasn’t it?” She wrapped her hand around her stomach as if it pained her, the tears sliding down her face unfettered.

  “I came for you, Mira,” Jack said gently.

  “Five years too late!” she said bitterly.

  “We can’t have this conversation while you’re drunk.”

  “I don’t want to have this conversation at all, Jack. I’m done. I can’t compete with her, I can’t trust you. I want away from you.”

  Jack stalked up to her, his frown tight on his face. He plucked the wine bottle and set it on the coffee table. “I already explained why I left you five years ago. I’m not going to explain myself again.”

  Mira seethed as she met his dark furious eyes. “You fucking left me for her because your dick was leading the way.”

  “Stop talking, Mira.” Jack warned her.

  “Go to hell, Jack.” As Mira turned to leave, Jack grabbed her arm and whipped her around.

  “I gave you your space because I thought you were dealing with the aftermath of Shonan’s death and your kidnapping. But I think you’ve had enough space, you ungrateful little bitch.”

  “Get your fucking hands off me,” Mira screamed. Jack had enough. He wrenched her arm up behind her and shoved her ahead of him, towards the playroom.

  Mira struggled futilely, no match for Jack’s strength. “Get off of me, you asshole!” Her words were loud and aggressive. There was no softness, no pleading like before. She was going to fight him all the way.

  “Mira, stop!” he roared. An unbidden stroke of heat seared through him to his cock as he struggled to open the door. She fought him like a wild cat, bucking her body, teeth snapping at him, flailing, kicking him with her feet, kicking out at the door as he wrestled it open.

  “You prick, don’t you fucking take me in there!” she shrieked.

  “Goddammit, Mira!” He manhandled her through the doorway and they fell to the floor as the door slammed behind them. The room was pitch black and she still wouldn’t settle. Jack knew his own fury was moving past the point of no return, past the point of domination. He’d hurt her if he handled her now. He let her go and p
ulled himself off the floor, turning on the light.

  She was huddled where they fell but as soon as she could see, she launched herself at him. “I fucking hate you!” she screamed.

  Jack grappled with her, fending her off as he dragged her to the bed. Cuffs on the mattress were soon circling her wrists, and he secured her wrists to the chains on the bedposts. He had a harder time with her ankles, trying to evade her out-of-control kicking, but he subdued her eventually. She screamed savagely, bucking her body and cursing at him. Jack left her like that, slamming the door behind him, leaving the apartment and then the house. He walked down the driveway towards the gatehouse, then stopped half-way and looked around him. He ran his hands over his head, raked his fingers through his hair. He was shaking inside.

  Forty-Six

  Mira woke with a headache and drinker’s remorse. She’d drank just enough last night to fuel her anger, her hurt, her self-righteousness. Enough to make her reckless with her words, play her cards loose, throw all her insecurities into a screaming match with Jack.

  When Jack came for her, rescued her from Michael Black, she’d been so relieved to see him, to have him near. After seeing Isabelle, after knowing the truth, she hadn’t believed he would come for her, so to have him pulling her into his arms, cradling her, holding her gave her more hope and belief than she’d ever had. Her relief at seeing him, her fear for both of their lives, caused her to almost miss the nuances of exchange. Isabelle, standing rigidly in the centre of the room, keeping her eyes glued to Michael, not once looking Jack’s way. Jack holding her, ignoring his ex-wife, speaking to her, reassuring her, talking to Michael. Isabelle and Jack together in the same room, ignoring each other like they didn’t exist.