Jameson's Salvation (Gemini Group Book 2)

by Riley Edwards

  “Reggie’s in a jail cell, Kennedy. He cannot hurt her or you.”

  “But Gary’s not. What if he’s pissed now—”

  “No doubt he is. At Reggie. Gary’s retribution will be aimed at Coleman. Not you. Gary’s going to be more concerned about the pictures Reggie’s been blackmailing him with. And don’t forget, Jonny called in the Delaware State Police. Gary is in Wilmington. We’ll be notified if he heads south.”

  Jameson was right. My nerves were shot and I was being paranoid. Everything was going to be fine.

  It was finally over.

  Reggie Coleman was in jail. No one thought he’d get bail because he was a flight risk. And Jonny had already started questioning the men Reggie had been blackmailing and they were rolling over on him fast. They didn’t want those pictures to get out on top of the crimes they’d committed. The State’s Attorney was making deals left and right and likely would be doing it through the night.

  Finally I could breathe without the threat of Reggie looming over me.

  He’d been harassing me for so long it was like I forgot what it was like to just live. Not that I was out of the woods, I still had to recoup my business, but Jameson would help with that. And with him by my side, I could do it faster than I could going at it alone. Not that I couldn’t do it by myself, but I no longer had to.

  I sank down to Jameson’s lap and wrapped my arm around his shoulder.

  “Thank you. Both of you.”

  “No need—”

  “Thank you, Chasin,” I told him solemnly.

  “We should be the one thanking you,” Chasin said, blowing off my appreciation.

  Jeez, could none of these guys take some credit?

  “I don’t know what kind of voodoo you’re practicin’, but never stop. I’ve never seen this asshole not be a, well…asshole.” Chasin smirked before he continued. “None of us even knew he could laugh. We all thought he had some kind of vocal cord damage that prevented the sound. We knew he could bark orders. But laugh? No way.”

  “You’re hilarious, Chasin,” Jameson quipped. “So funny I forgot to laugh.”

  “You didn’t forget shit and you never will as long as Kennedy’s around.”

  Jameson’s wide smile stole my breath. Damn, he was good-looking.

  “You’re right about that,” Jameson agreed.

  Weston brought over Mexican takeout. After everything that happened, I didn’t have an appetite and politely declined the food. But Jameson insisted I needed to eat something. Two bites into my first crunchy taquito, I was suddenly starved and woofed down all four, plus all the rice, before the three men were done with their plates.

  Thankfully, all four of us were wiped out and needing sleep, because without a TV in my living room, there wasn’t much to do. Chasin took the guest room upstairs but Weston refused the room I used as my office, even though there was a futon.

  He wanted to sleep downstairs.

  No one said anything but I understood why. It was the same reason Jameson had told me to get my shotgun out of my safe and why all three men had their weapons clearly visible on their hips.

  I quickly changed into pair of pjs, something I’d never worn to bed while sleeping next to Jameson. But if I had to make a hasty retreat or possibly shoot someone, I preferred to be in more than one of Jameson’s tees and my panties.

  Not that I wanted to shoot someone—but to protect myself and the guys, I would.

  “Tell me how you’re holding up,” Jameson requested once we were both in bed.

  “I think I’m in shock. I’m almost numb, like today happened to somebody else. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m horrified Reggie has pictures of us and they’re now evidence. Beyond embarrassed Jonny and the State’s Attorney and God knows who else will review them.” I stopped and shuddered at the thought. “It’s so disgusting I can’t even think about it. But I think what’s most unbelievable to me is that it’s over. I’m not even surprised at the level of corruption or the blackmail. I didn’t think it was that bad. I thought Reggie was a part of the good ol’ boy crowd, and his cronies were givin’ him a leg up for some cash.”

  “Money and greed make people do fucked-up things.”

  Jameson would know more about that than I would.

  “I really hope Jonas Brown isn’t one of the men that McKenna couldn’t identify. I would be so disappointed. He seems so nice, and his wife, Lavender, I don’t think that’s her real name, but they’re total hippies so I don’t question her name. Anyway, Lavender is so sweet and all love, peace, and flowers she would be crushed,” I sighed.

  “I think Jonas is a victim in this. Just like the owner of Willow Realty.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Jameson tightened his arm around my back, settling me closer, and for the first time in over six months I could breathe easy. “So now what?”

  “Now, we relax, and just live.”

  “Sounds kinda boring.”

  “Boring is great.”

  “How do you feel about getting a dog?”

  Jameson’s body went solid and I wasn’t sure what I said that upset him.

  “If you don’t—”

  “Never had a dog but I always wanted one.” His gruff voice was laced with sadness. “We couldn’t afford another mouth to feed when I was a kid. Then I was gone too much when I was in the Navy.”

  “So? You wanna get one?”

  “Yeah, babe, I want one.”

  “I want it to live in the house and I don’t want to put it in a crate.”

  “No point in having a guard dog if he’s locked in a cage,” Jameson agreed.

  “Can we look at German Shepherds?”

  “As long as it’s not a little ankle-biter, we’ll get whatever you want.”

  “Can we name it Petal?” I teased.

  “No. He needs a tough name like Killer or Cujo.”

  “Um, no. How ‘bout Tank or Zeus?”

  “Tank.”

  “Tank.” I smiled. “I can’t wait to get him. Can we look this weekend?”

  “Whenever you want.”

  “’Night, Jameson.”

  “’Night, babe.”

  I closed my eyes and I was still smiling. I liked this agreeable, easy side of Jameson. But I also liked his gruff, bossy side, too. He was the perfect mix of hard and soft.

  Maybe boring was great. I couldn’t wait to find out.

  29

  Jameson

  Jameson’s phone ringing on the nightstand pulled him from a dreamless, peaceful sleep. Something that only started happening since Kennedy had started sleeping next to him. Just her body next to his beat back the nightmares that had plagued him for years.

  Jameson glanced at the table and watched the clock tick to five a.m.. Kennedy’s alarm started blaring, accompanying the ringing from his cell.

  Now fully awake and alert, he reached out with his free hand and slapped the clock, stopping the annoying buzzing, and tagged his phone.

  “Yeah.”

  “Jonny called,” Nixon started, and Jameson started to roll Kennedy off his chest, but she shook her head, obviously awake. “Gary Earle crossed the state line into Maryland ten minutes ago.”

  “Fuck. What’s the plan?”

  “Everyone to the office, now.”

  “What about Lola? She can’t climb the stairs.”

  “She’s five-foot nothing and weighs less than the iron you bench press. I think you can carry her.”

  If Jameson had been firing on all cylinders he wouldn’t have asked. Of course he could carry her up to the office.

  “Right. Is Holden bringing them over?”

  “Yes.”

  “See you in ten minutes.”

  Jameson tapped the disconnect button and dipped his chin, looking down to his chest but only seeing the top of Kennedy’s head.

  “Did you hear that, babe?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We need to get up and wake the guys if they’re not already up.”

 
“It’s not over,” she whispered.

  Jameson rolled, forcing Kennedy to her back. He came up on an elbow and stared down at her.

  “Look at me, Kennedy.” Her focus came to him and his gut clenched at the worry in her eyes. “It is over,” Jameson proclaimed.

  “But—”

  “We don’t know why Gary Earle is coming to town or even if he is. But we’re going to take precautions.”

  “We know why.”

  “No, we’re assuming he’s coming here to tie up loose ends. Which if you think about is a good thing. Now Jonny has access to him. He’ll pick him up and question him.”

  “He’s here to kill you or me. We fucked up Reggie’s plan, which means I screwed him over.”

  “Not gonna happen. He won’t even see one pretty hair on your head. You and your mom will be at the office tucked away nice and safe.”

  “And you? Where will you be?”

  “Hunting.” A wolfish smile spread across Jameson’s face. “Holden will stay with you and the rest of us will help Jonny track Gary.”

  “He wants to—” Kennedy’s voice had raised in both volume and octave.

  “First, I’m not worried about some cocksucker getting the drop on me. I have years of experience on him. And, second, do you think Weston, Chasin, or Nixon would let him get close to me?”

  “Bullets don’t care about experience, Jameson. I won’t…I can’t lose you.”

  “You. Are. Never. Going to lose me.” Jameson punctuated his words. “Jonny needs help. That’s why he deputized us, remember? The sheriff’s office doesn’t have the manpower. He needs all hands on deck.”

  “Promise you’ll be careful?” Kennedy still didn’t sound happy or convinced.

  “I promise. Get dressed.”

  He leaned down and gave her a hard and fast closed-mouth kiss and rolled again to get out of bed.

  If Gary was headed to Kent County, they had forty-five minutes before he’d arrive. Ten minutes had been shaved off that before Jonny had called, and five more talking to Kennedy. They only had thirty minutes to form a plan.

  Piece of cake. They’d adapted mission objectives in less time than that.

  “McKenna has the monitors off, right?” Jameson triple-checked.

  “Yes,” Nixon answered on a frustrated grunt. “Three times I’ve confirmed.”

  Jameson ignored his friend’s irritation and fought the urge to verify that McKenna was clear she wasn’t to turn them on.

  Weston, Nixon, Chasin, Jonny, and Jameson were back at Kennedy’s. They’d left Holden at the office to watch over Kennedy, McKenna, Lola, and Janice. Just in case they were wrong, the women needed protection. What they didn’t need was to be watching the camera feed from Kennedy’s house. Jameson knew Nixon didn’t want his woman watching what was about to go down anymore than he did. Everything should run smooth and be over in a matter of minutes, but Jameson knew shit could go sideways as quick as lightning.

  “You’re sure Gary’s gonna show up here?” Jonny asked.

  “It’s six in the morning,” Jameson reminded him. “Where else would he go? Gary has no ties to KC expect for Reggie who is locked up in the detention center. Visiting hours don’t start until three. The banks don’t open until nine. And his lawyer who drew up the business agreement is in Delaware, so he’s not seeking legal counsel. You have a deputy parked down the street from Lois Coleman’s house and Deloris Marshall’s in case he pays them a visit.”

  “What about one of the men Reggie was blackmailing?”

  “Reggie was blackmailing. Not Gary,” Weston took over the clarification. “Gary’s scot-free on that charge. There’s no proof he had any involvement. But, if he wants to salvage the business he still needs Jameson out of the way and Kennedy to fold. Besides that, Gary’s pissed. No doubt he wants a little revenge, too. And you read McKenna’s report on Earle, people around him who deny him what he wants mysteriously wind up dead. He’s coming here.”

  Jonny nodded his understanding and Jameson looked back out the window, scanning Kennedy’s front yard. His truck and hers were the only two in the driveway. All the lights were off in the house and by all accounts it would look like the occupants were still sleeping.

  A black Cadillac CT6-V pulled into Kennedy’s drive and Jameson tightened his jaw. The driver exited the vehicle and silently closed the door. It wasn’t surprising the short, slightly rounded man drove a ninety-thousand-dollar Caddy with blacked-out windows and five-hundred and fifty horsepower under the hood. Power. Class. And wealth. He’d need his car to convey all of the things he lacked in stature, build, and looks.

  He was a fraud. A bully who was used to getting his way.

  Silently, the men all slipped into their hiding places and waited for Gary to make his move. They’d made it easy for him and had left the front door unlocked. No sense in wasting time seeing if he could pick it or spending money if he damaged the door.

  Breaking and entering was breaking and entering, even if you didn’t actually break something to enter a home that was not yours.

  The door creaked open and shut with a click. Jameson couldn’t help but think what an idiot both Reggie and Gary were. If the car pulling up wouldn’t have woken him up, the door would’ve. Like amateurs they’d not done their homework on Jameson. A simple background check on him would’ve shown he’d served in the military—even if his affiliation with the Special Warfare Command was suppressed, they’d still know he was dangerous. Yet, they were cocky and stupid.

  With the curtains closed the room was mostly dark. Gary’s frame was still in shadow and Jameson itched for the man to hurry. They couldn’t move until they had a clear view of the man to see if he was armed.

  Too soon, Jonny stepped out of his hiding spot and yelled for Gary to put his hands up. The next thirty seconds played out like a slow-motion horror film.

  Gunshots rang out and to Jameson’s left, Jonny stumbled back and hit the floor with a thud.

  Shit hadn’t gone sideways, it was FUBAR. Completely and totally fucked beyond repair. Without hesitation, Jameson leveled his weapon and fired one shot. The back of Gary’s head exploded, brain matter and blood splattered in every direction and the man was dead before his body crumpled to the floor.

  Weston and Nixon were already crouched over Jonny’s prone body and Chasin was on the phone with dispatch for an ambulance.

  Fuck, goddamn, shit. What a clusterfuck of a mess.

  Five minutes later Kennedy’s living room was overrun with deputies and EMTs. Outside, fire trucks, ambulances, and squad cars with lights still flashing filled her driveway and yard. The medical examiner was pulling in and Jameson couldn’t figure out where one more emergency vehicle could park.

  “I fucked up,” Jonny wheezed and rubbed his chest.

  He had. He was also lucky he was wearing a vest. Gary’s first shot had gone wide but his second had hit Jonny center mass.

  What’s one more hole to patch in Kennedy’s house? And Jameson couldn’t forget the blood and brain matter that now stained her walls, curtains, and floor.

  “You need to ride to the hospital,” an EMT told Jonny.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You have at least one cracked rib,” Sheriff Baker noted sternly. “You’re going to the hospital.”

  Jonny didn’t argue with his boss but he didn’t look happy. With two EMTs flanking him, Jonny stood and looked at Jameson. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

  Jameson gave the man a chin lift and slapped his shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re not dead. The rest can be cleaned up.”

  “But you—”

  “Not the first time, Jonny. Hope it’s the last but I gotta be honest, I feel no remorse for protecting a friend.”

  Jonny’s face went taut and the lines in his forehead deepened. Without another word he walked out the door.

  “You gonna tell Kennedy about all of this?” Nixon asked, waving his hand around the room.

  Jameson thought about his friend’s question.
His first instinct was to protect her and not let her back into her house until it was cleaned and the holes were patched, and pretend the whole shitshow happened in the front yard and not in the living room of the house she loved. But shielding her from the truth would be a lie. And he hated liars.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna tell her. Though she doesn’t need to see this shit, so I’ll have it cleaned before we come home.”

  Nixon’s grin turned into a smile Jameson had only seen directed at McKenna and he said, “Happy for you.”

  Jameson was happy for himself, too. He’d be happier, however, when the mess was cleaned up and he and his woman were home sitting on the couch watching their new puppy run around.

  30

  Kennedy

  Jameson had kept me away from my house for almost two weeks. He’d told me what had happened that morning and he’d already called two different cleaning services by the time he’d made it back to the office. I’d thought two was overkill, but when he’d started to explain the mess, I simply put a hand up halting the details and told him he was in change. Whatever he felt was necessary, he should do. While I appreciated the honesty, I did not want to know what brain matter looked like.

  After the living room was thoroughly scrubbed and the holes were patched, we’d gone back to my house. When we walked in, I waited for fear or panic to take over. But it didn’t. Jameson and I stood in the room, and as I looked around, I felt nothing. It was just home. No creepy feeling someone had died, no lingering terror from Peyton or Reggie.

  Nothing.

  All I’d felt was relief.

  We’d been back in the house for two days and I had more than enough work to keep me busy. The jumpstart on working up my garden and planting had dwindled substantially. As soon as Jameson had left for work, I’d started plowing and had finished tilling the ground by lunch.

  I was in the house making lunch and making calls to order fertilizer and the seeds I’d need when Jonas Brown called.

  At first the call had been awkward and strained as Jonas apologized profusely and told me what I’d already known—Reggie had threatened to renege on his lease. The conversation turned when I happily accepted his apology and told him I understood.