“I know you think we need her name, but I don’t know if it’s as important as you think it is. She isn’t even related by blood, and I’m starting to think she isn’t going to cooperate anyway.” Jackson let out a deep breath. No, Meg wasn’t going to tow the line the way she was supposed to. She was too stubborn. Too headstrong. Jackson had been fooling himself to think that he could manipulate her into loving him. “Tonight she made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want me, and I think there may be someone else.”
Garret Star turned thoughtful, mulling the situation over. “We have to get her to see how much she needs you, that’s all. It has to hit home just how bad her circumstances really are. And how much worse they can get.”
Worse? The girl had lost almost everything. Her sister years ago, her boyfriend, her father, then her uncle, and now her mom was on the brink of losing her mind. If that didn’t push her over the edge, what would?
Jackson was barely able to keep his doubts from bubbling to the surface, but his father just slapped him on the back as he headed for the stairs, the picture of confidence.
“You leave that to me. I know exactly what to do,” he said. “She’ll come around. There are very few people in this world who will hold onto their pride in the face of starvation and death.”
“If you say so.” Jackson didn’t believe there was much of anything that could push Meg into doing what they wanted at this point, but he decided to let his father have his fun. After all, the idea of Meg suffering a little bit didn’t bother him at all. Especially after she showed her true, slutty colors tonight.
Chapter Five
Jackson was once again working at the CDC when he heard the news: Meg had been sent outside the wall. It was preposterous for so many reasons, but it had happened and Jackson didn’t have a doubt in his mind who had made it happen. His father. So that was the lesson he’d wanted to teach her. It wasn’t bad. She’d never been out and it was rare that a crew spent time patching the wall without running into trouble, but also rare that someone died—unless Garret Star wanted them to. For all her daydreaming about what the outside world had been like, Jackson knew she’d never had any real desire to explore the world. Not the zombie world, anyway.
He found himself smiling as he headed for home, most of his worries from the night before now gone. Meg would come to him soon. She’d had a close call—very close from what the report had said—and she would surely be ready to make up now. Jackson wouldn’t be surprised if she was ready to beg for help. For him to take care of her and keep her safe. He couldn’t wait to hear her beg.
A few people on the street coughed as he passed them, and he stepped away even though he’d already received the vaccine for the flu his father had released. It would get much, much worse before it got better, but it would also help clean up the shantytown Jackson loathed so much. His father had agreed with him that the shacks needed to be bulldozed, and Jackson looked forward to watching it happen.
Back home he made himself lunch, being sure to make extra, while he waited anxiously for Meg to show up. She still hadn’t come by the time his food was gone, so he ate her portion as well, ignoring the nagging at his insides that told him he was a fool.
The later it got, the more he found it impossible to deny. Meg wasn’t coming. She’d had a shitty day and come face to face with death, but she hadn’t come running to Jackson for comfort. It was a first. He’d been there for every tragic turn of events in her life, dating all the way back to when her sister had disappeared, but she wasn’t going to come running to him today.
Of course, that whole thing had been planned. Orchestrated by Garret Star for two very important reasons: to get Jackson in Meg’s good graces and to get his hands on more of the James blood.
Jackson had been waiting in an alley, watching as Vivian walked down the street with her two young daughters. The older one had dark hair and looked nothing like her mother—which Jackson knew was because they weren’t actually related—but the younger one had been the spitting image of Vivian. Blonde and dimpled, an oval face that exuded beauty even at the age of nine, Margot had been a gorgeous child, and the three of them had looked like a picture perfect family up until that very last second.
The screams were Jackson’s first signal. He’d come out from his hiding spot just as the crowd began to run, his gaze focused on Meg so he’d be sure to get to her before the horde did. Someone screamed the word zombies, and then there was chaos and pushing. Jackson didn’t see it happen, but he knew that Vivian was taken out first. Hit over the head and dragged aside during the confusion, leaving her two daughters vulnerable.
Meg ran, holding onto her sister’s hand as the crowd grew thicker and more panicked. Jackson could see the terror in her green eyes and something about it fed the tingling inside him. The thing he hadn’t yet named. He moved, focusing on Meg as he waited for the right moment. It happened so fast that even he missed it Margot was grabbed and pulled away from her sister. The crowd swallowed up the man and the girl in seconds flat, leaving Meg panicked and screaming for her sister and mother. She was crying and the zombies were charging. They were so close by the time he reached her that Jackson could smell the rot.
It wasn’t enough to just grab Meg and run, though. No. He wanted to do more, to see blood and hear agony. To be the cause of those things. He pushed someone. He didn’t even stop long enough to figure out who it was before pushing them forward with all his might, shoving them toward the charging horde.
Meg screamed when the person went flying. The zombies were on the man in seconds, and even though Jackson was supposed to pull her to safety, he paused long enough to watch the first few sets of teeth sink into flesh. Blood sprayed and screams radiated through the air, sinking deep into Jackson’s bones, and he found himself almost hypnotized by it. Unable to move as the joy of it all shot through him.
But then Meg screamed again and he was jolted back to reality. That’s when he pulled her into the nearest alley. He and his father had manufactured the perfect hiding spot the day before, behind a dumpster and wedged between a couple wood crates. Jackson had Meg safely tucked away in seconds, securing more crates over them while forcing her to duck down.
She was crying and hysterical, and he did as he’d been trained: he comforted her. Hugged her, repeated words that his father had made him memorize in tones they had rehearsed. Until then, Jackson’s father had never tried to cultivate any kind of empathy in his son, but he’d known how important it would be in this instance. Luckily, Jackson was a quick learner.
There he and Meg stayed until the horde was taken care of, but even then Jackson hadn’t left Meg’s side for hours. He’d helped her look for Margot, had found the bloody and torn backpack just where it was supposed to be, had helped her rouse Vivian, and had even walked the two home when their search had turned up nothing. The next day, after the search for Margot had been called off, Jackson had paid his respects, and ever since then Meg had been like a puppet on a string. She’d come to him when Colton died, when her father disappeared, when her uncle was killed. She’d come right into Jackson’s open and waiting arms every time, almost as if they were a second home to her.
Until now. Now she was off with someone else after facing death. Getting comfort from someone else. It didn’t make sense that things had changed so quickly, but they had. Only Jackson didn’t know why. And he wanted to.
It took one phone call to find out where she was—they’d been keeping close tabs on the family since the day they set foot in New Atlanta. Meg was at Dragon’s Lair. Why or what she was doing there was an utter mystery, but one Jackson was going to solve as soon as possible.
It was still early evening when he headed out, meaning the fight probably hadn’t even started yet. Good. Jackson had a strange nagging in his stomach that told him he needed to see Donaghy out of the ring. He wanted to know who the fighter was spending his spare time with, even if he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like the answer.
Jackson
slipped into Dragon’s Lair mostly unnoticed. A few men by the door spotted him, then quickly averted their eyes when they realized who he was—not an unusual reaction at all—and then he was left alone. He stayed by the door, sinking into the shadows so he could observe the room without being seen. The first place he looked upon entering was the VIP section, expecting to see Meg and Charlie bouncing around in their tight clothes while they waited for the fight to start, maybe even Donaghy himself sitting with them. The cushy red chairs were empty, though. Odd. His sources had assured him that he’d find Meg in Dragon’s bar.
He scanned the room slowly, knowing it would be tough to pick her out of the crowd since she was so short, and when he finally spotted her, it was the last place he expected her to be. Behind the bar. Serving drinks.
Meg had gotten a job in this hole?
It didn’t make sense. She knew Jackson would help her, he’d always been there for her, yet she would rather lower herself to working in this filthy, pathetic excuse for a bar than ask him for help? Hadn’t he done everything right? Hadn’t he spent the last nine years trying to make sure she knew that he would do anything for her?
Had she seen through him? Jackson didn’t think so. Maybe his outburst last night hadn’t gone unnoticed, but she had obviously gotten the job before their little fight. Before he’d let his façade slip away.
Meaning all his hard work and restraint had been for nothing.
Anger flared through him that only grew in intensity when the crowd parted enough to allow him to see who was sitting at the bar in front of Meg. Donaghy. Even worse, they were deep in conversation, Meg leaving all the bartending duties to the girl with the pink hair and the old hag who worked at the CDC during the day. Meg was acting like no one else was in the room even though the place was packed, giving the convict all of her attention.
The rage building inside Jackson paralyzed him, making it impossible for him to leave even after Donaghy headed for the ring. Jackson couldn’t take his eyes off Meg. He watched as a group of three men approached her—one of them looking very familiar but impossible to place with the anger swirling through him. The men only talked to Meg for a few minutes before heading off to watch the fight, but the way she smiled made it difficult for Jackson to see straight.
He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t force himself to move. Even after the fight ended and the crowd began to thin he stayed tucked away in his little corner of the room, his head down but his eyes up. He watched as Meg joined the three men at the table. Watched as they talked—a serious conversation from what he could tell—and seethed even more when Donaghy eventually joined them.
It wasn’t long before she ran off, though. The tears streaming down her cheeks didn’t give him the satisfaction he’d been hoping for. No, that was impossible when Donaghy followed her. No doubt heading back so he could lend Meg a shoulder to cry on.
Jackson couldn’t help thinking that there would be more to it, and he couldn’t stop himself from envisioning the two of them going at it in the back room. The filthy bar walls contrasting with Meg’s flawlessly smooth skin.
Flawless until he got his hands on her, that is.
Jackson pushed himself closer to the wall when Meg’s three friends passed by. He only caught a couple words, but it was enough to let him know that they were heading to a strip club. Good. He wanted to know what they had talked to Meg about.
It was easy to get the information. All it took was a phone call and before he knew it three of his father’s secret guards had shown up. They took care of the rest, getting all the information Jackson needed in a matter of minutes. Well, not all. He still didn’t know exactly what was going on between Meg and Donaghy, but he had enough information for the time being.
Jackson watched from the other side of the strip club as the big, blond dimwit that Meg worked with spilled his guts. The smaller guy, the one with the shifty eyes, was so nervous that he couldn’t sit still, and it was while he was squirming in his seat that Jackson realized who it was. Stevie Jones. It felt like a stroke of luck, running into his old schoolyard chum like this. Of course, Jackson had always known that Stevie had survived the beating, but he’d been surprisingly hard to track down. Almost as if he had vanished into thin air. Jackson had even begun to wonder if Stevie hadn’t bought his way out of the city. But here he was, somehow mixed up in things with Meg and just waiting for Jackson to finish the job he’d started all those years ago. It was going to be fun.
Jackson and the guards followed the group out of the bar, keeping a good distance so they wouldn’t get spooked. He wanted all three of the men, but he’d settle for Stevie at the moment.
The blond guy ducked into his place first. It was a run-down apartment building that probably wasn’t much cleaner than shantytown, but one that would be easy to remember later. Jackson motioned for one of the guards to follow the blond guy while he and the others continued after the other men. They needed to know which apartment the blond guy lived in for later.
His cover was blown, though, when Stevie Jones glanced over his shoulder. Jackson was standing directly under a streetlight, and Stevie’s miniscule eyes grew to twice their size. It only took a second for him to take off running.
“Shit,” Jackson muttered, then turned to the two men at his back. “I want him. You hear me? Get him now!”
The men took off after Stevie, who had left the other man in his dust in his hurry to get away from Jackson.
The friend was frozen in place, watching as Stevie and the men ran, then turning to face Jackson when they had been swallowed up by the darkness. “What do you want with Ticker?”
Ticker? So that’s how Stevie had done it. He’d changed his name.
“I have some business to finish.” Jackson ran his hands down his shirt like he was smoothing the wrinkles away.
“Don’t you think you’ve tortured him enough?” the other man said.
He was older than Jackson. Taller and probably just as good-looking. His blue eyes were full of intelligence as he looked Jackson over, trying to size him up.
“No,” Jackson said, forming an O with his lips as he slipped his hand into his pocket.
This guy wasn’t a moron like the other two. The blond had clearly been born with a few pieces of his brain missing, and Stevie—Ticker—had had the sense beaten out of him years ago. Too bad the man in front of Jackson wasn’t smart enough to realize that Stevie Jones wasn’t the only one in trouble.
Jackson actually saw when the realization hit. The man’s eyes widened, just like Stevie’s had, and he tried to take a step back. It was too late, though. Jackson had the syringe out of his pocket in a flash, and he pushed down on the plunger the second the needle had penetrated the other man’s neck. The drug worked fast, giving his victim only enough time to stumble back a few steps. His lips moved in silent questions, but no sound ever passed his lips before he was on the ground. His eyes closed, his chest rising with every breath he took in. Motionless.
This man wasn’t the one Jackson had wanted, but that didn’t stop a surge of triumph from shooting through him. They were always on the lookout for healthy test subjects—the druggies and bums they picked up on the streets typically came with their own set of health problems—and Jackson knew his father would welcome the new addition. Stevie Jones would get his. He wouldn’t slip away a third time, of that Jackson was certain.
When guards came back—empty handed—they dragged the unconscious man back to the CDC. Jackson trailed behind them, mulling over the events of the day. Meg was a bust, that he knew for sure, but he wasn’t willing to walk away after everything. He needed to teach her a lesson. To let her know, without physically harming her, exactly what happened to a person who decided to cross Jackson Star. He had a good idea what to do, too, but it would have to wait until morning.
Jackson was at the CDC earlier than usual, beating even his father to the observation wing. Garret had been up late thanks to a possible breakthrough, giving his son the perfect opport
unity to take matters into his own hands. He’d mulled over a few ideas during the night, but kept coming back to one. It was risky because he wasn’t exactly sure how his father would react, but could feel a tide turning in his relationship with his father. Their dynamic had changed, and Jackson had gone from feeling intimidated by the man to thinking that his bark was worse than his bite. At least when it came to his son. After all, anyone who knew Jackson could attest to the fact that his dark desires were much scarier than Garret Star’s were.
Jackson stopped in front of the last observation room and crossed his arms. Axl was awake today, but he wasn’t facing the window so he hadn’t yet noticed Jackson. When he finally did turn, there was very little reaction from Meg’s father. Jackson hadn’t thought that Axl would be surprised to find him standing there, but he had hoped for fury or defeat to be written on the other man’s face. Instead, though, his gray eyes were calm. Not resigned necessarily, but more calculating.
Meg’s father was still groggy, but he was alert enough to know what was going on and to recognize the man in front of him. Not that it mattered. They’d been monitoring the entire family for years, and Jackson knew that there was no love lost between Axl and him. There had been multiple times over the years when Meg’s father had told her how little he trusted Jackson. If she hadn’t always stuck up for him, they would have taken Axl James out years ago. Not killed him. No, that would have been a waste. Just brought him to the CDC much, much sooner.
Jackson had been all for removing Axl from the situation, but his father had wanted to wait. They needed him, but not at the moment. He was being monitored. No harm would come to him. They weren’t risking anything by allowing him to stay where he was. It was perhaps the first time Jackson had wholeheartedly disagreed with his father about something, but Garret Star had dismissed his son’s concerns as nothing more than paranoia. Still, Jackson had always felt like the job of getting Meg to love him would have been easier had Axl been out of the way. She trusted her father implicitly, even if she hadn’t allowed him to speak ill of Jackson.
Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella Page 39