by Julia Bright
Back then, his dad had boasted that he’d never forget the lessons he learned under him. No question, he never forgot those lessons. They shaped who he was, and why he never visited his father unless he was forced to. He’d tried coming home, tried being the son his dad thought he deserved, but no matter how hard he tried, his dad freaked out and told him he wasn’t worthy. He had little hope his dad would ever accept him.
Jackson rang the doorbell and waited ten seconds, then twenty. When he thought he would have to ring it again, the door opened. His mom stood there, her frown deep.
“It’s about time you got here.”
“Hello, Mother, it’s good to see you too.”
“If you upset your brother, there will be hell to pay. Already he’s raving about seeing you in Italy which we’ve told him was crazy.”
Jackson said nothing as he stepped in. Jackson left his bag in the car because he’d decided before he left Denver he wouldn’t spend the night in his father’s house. No way would he ever sleep here again. He’d rather crash on a park bench and be threatened with jail time than say under this roof.
The second he stepped into the den, Randy jumped up and came over, hugging him tightly. His brother was blubbering almost unintelligently, saying thank you over and over again. He’d not thought this through. Later, once his parents were out of the room, he’d have to talk to Randy about it all.
He held onto Randy’s shoulders and leaned back. “You’re home safe.”
Tears flowed down Randy’s cheeks, and Jackson felt for him. He’d been through hell, but it couldn’t have been that bad because he wasn’t in the hospital. The bruises on his face had faded a little, which was good.
“We were just headed to bed,” his mom said. “Randy needs his rest.”
“I’m staying up and talk to Reg.” Randy didn’t budge from his side even though his dad frowned.
For a moment Jackson thought his parents would argue, but this was Randy defying them, not him, so they shrugged their shoulders and headed down the hall to their wing of the house.
When the door closed, Randy spun and shook his head. “How did you do it?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You were there. I saw you.”
“Mom and dad don’t need to know. Please don’t say anything more.”
“They already know. I told them you were in Italy.”
He chuckled and headed into the kitchen. “Want something to eat?”
“Sure, I could eat a sandwich.”
They were in the kitchen, him pulling out bread, trying to decide what type of sandwich to make. He glanced at his brother and paused. “So, Randy, why aren’t you in the hospital?”
“I was in Spain. They ran tests, said I was fine. I promised I’d go to a doctor here. I just wanted to spend the night in my own bed before I go to the doctor in the morning.”
He nodded and grabbed butter, cheese, and lunch meat from the refrigerator. While Randy sat, he pieced together a grilled cheese like Randy liked with plenty of butter. They didn’t talk while he cooked their food. When he turned, the open admiration from his brother was obvious.
“You came to rescue me,” Randy said.
He shook his head. “I didn’t.”
“But you were there. How did you find me?”
He cleared his throat and gave a heavy sigh. “You can’t say anything more, please.”
Randy waved his hand. “Fine. Tell me how you found me.”
“It was a lucky guess.” He handed the plate to Randy and sat next to him at the table.
Randy took a bite of the sandwich and moaned. “Best food I’ve had in weeks.”
Jackson nodded and bit into his sandwich, swallowing before he met Randy’s gaze. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Sure, anything.”
“In the morning, tell mom and dad after sleeping, you realized it wasn’t me, just some guy who looked like me.”
Randy shook his head. “Why would I lie?”
He held Randy’s gaze, trying to express the seriousness of the situation. “It would save us both a lot of headaches.”
Randy took another bite before he shook his head. “I never understood some things that happened when I was a kid.”
The twisted web of hate his parents spread had to have been confusing for his brother. “Like what?”
“You ran off.”
“I did. It may have been wrong, but I couldn’t stick around. Not after…” Jackson cleared his throat. “Dad treated me different. I don’t know what his deal was or why he disliked me, but he wasn’t the same dad you had, not really. I was expected to do certain things, be a certain way… and I wasn’t.”
“I blamed you for a lot of things back then. But then—” Randy stopped talking and stared down the hall, his expression haunted.
“Tell me, Randy.”
His brother met his gaze and bit his lower lip. “Did dad ever hit you, you know, with anything other than his hand.”
Anger blew through Jackson, and he jumped up, almost knocking the chair over. “Did he take that riding crop to you?”
Randy stood and moved closer, placing a hand on Jackson’s chest. “No, but I saw a photo of him beating someone. I think it was you.”
Jackson grunted and sat back down, his mind tumbling over the many reasons why he hated his dad. The riding crop was one. There were other beatings for small infractions.
“Yes, he beat me. He didn’t stop when I grew older either. He isn’t a good man. He has a lot of people fooled, but he isn’t good.” Jackson blew out a breath and shook his head. Shock over his words seemed to hold them both still. Finally, after years and years, he admitted out loud that his father had beat him with a riding crop.
Randy’s brows bunched as he sat down again. Jackson reached for Randy’s plate and put it in front of him.
“Eat.”
Randy rolled his eyes. “I knew he hit you, but hearing you say it, that makes it more real. Seriously, Dad beat you. Of course, he did. God, I hate him.”
“Don’t go there. Dad has been nice to you, and you’ll get his money if you play his game.”
“I don’t want his dirty money,” Randy spat out.
Jackson knew he and his brother would have this conversation sooner or later, he wished it wasn’t now. He put his hand on Randy’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I understand your hate, but if you have his money, you can use it to help others. He won’t put up with you defying him. He’s used to getting his own way. I’m not sure what I did to make him hate me. He’s erratic and crazy. He’ll be pissed if you side with me.”
Randy closed his eyes and pain washed over his features. Jackson pulled him into an awkward hug, then leaned back to look him in the eyes.
“Eat and tell me everything that happened.”
Randy blew out a breath, his face twisting with pain. “They didn’t do much other than grab me. There were three other guys and two women they were holding captive. We were locked in cages. Most of them spoke Spanish or Italian. I didn’t understand everything. They beat the women. I could tell someone had raped them. One of the guys had been raped too. He came back and could barely move. I was the new guy, so they only told me what they expected. They only spoke Italian, which made it hard for me to know what to do. I had a feeling my time was soon. I don’t know how long I would have lasted, Reg.”
Randy took a break from talking, his eyes glassed over. He bit off a chunk of the sandwich and chewed while he stared at the table. The information shook Jackson. His brother would have been sold into slavery if they hadn’t found him. There was so much evil out there. How anyone would think it was okay to buy and sell people was a mystery to him. The market for filth was beyond him. How could anyone do what that group was doing?
With the last of his sandwich consumed, Randy reached out and took Jackson’s hand. “You cared enough to track me down. I’ll keep your cover going. I won’t tell anyone you were there, or I�
�ll say it was a mistake, but thank—” Randy’s voice cracked, and he let out a choked sob. His shoulders shook as tears ran down his cheeks. It took him a moment before he could say anything again. “Thank you, really.”
“Anytime brother, anytime.”
“I’m going up to bed, you coming?” Randy asked.
He shook his head, knowing that sleeping in his dad’s house would bring back too many ghosts. “I can’t stay here.”
“Please. In my room. I need you close. I’m…” Randy closed his eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t want to say anything to mom and dad, but I’m afraid.”
Those two words melted his heart. His brother, no matter how many wedges his dad had tried to drive between them, was still his brother. He couldn’t be an asshole to his brother.
“Okay, let me get my bag. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“No, it’s a queen bed. We can share. I promise not to crowd you.”
Jackson chuckled then rubbed Randy on the top of his head. His heart swelled with love and pride. They’d defied the odds and stayed friends through their dad had tried to make them enemies. Jackson retrieved his bag and followed Randy upstairs to the room he used to occupy.
“Gotta tell you, buddy, this is odd.”
“What?” Randy asked.
“This was my room before I left.”
“Oh, yeah, I totally forgot. You okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” He was almost thirty, and he wouldn’t let his dad scare him. The man may have been more than just a thorn in his side growing up, but now he was his own person and wouldn’t cower for his father. He’d done enough of that in his youth.
After a quick shower, he stretched out beside Randy, listening to his even breaths. It was weird being back here. The day he’d left, he’d sworn he’d never sleep in this room again. When he’d moved back, he’d lived in an apartment above the garage for a few weeks until he couldn’t take his dad’s noise any longer. He’d tried to stick around, but the pain hadn’t been worth the price of putting up with the bitching and complaining. His dad wouldn’t ever respect him, end of story.
The next morning, he woke to find Randy curled up beside him, Randy’s hands wrapped around his arm. He extricated himself carefully and headed into the bathroom. After pulling on his clothes for a run, he left the room and headed downstairs. He heard voices and thought it was his dad and mom, but when he entered the den, he came to a dead stop.
“Mr. Jackson, it’s good to see you again,” Marissa said, her eyes holding no mirth or merriment.
“Hello, Marissa.”
“You two know each other?” his dad asked.
“Yes, we’ve met,” Marissa said. “I was just telling your father about our rescue mission.”
“That’s nice.” He brushed past her, wondering what the hell she was doing here. He’d fucked up in Italy by running into her. Next mission, they’d need to plan better.
“Excuse us, Mr. Jackson. Your son and I need to talk.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her and let out a loud snort. “Unless you plan on running in those heels, I don’t think we’ll be doing too much talking.”
A quick glance at his dad showed his disappointment, but that was usual behavior from his dad when he was around. Marissa followed him into the kitchen and put her hand on his arm, making him pause. He turned and glanced over her shoulder, making sure his dad hadn’t followed them. With a short shake of his head, he moved away from her and grabbed the orange juice out of the refrigerator.
“Would you care for any?”
She narrowed her gaze, her lips tilted down in a frown. “Get your juice and come outside, we need to talk.”
He wanted to tell her to fuck off, that they weren’t going to talk, but he had little doubt she’d try to make his life hell if he refused her.
“Fine, do you want anything to eat?” he asked.
“No.”
He grabbed a banana off the counter and decided he’d run to a coffee shop not too far away from where he’d grab breakfast. He didn’t want to put up with waiting to cook something here, not while his father was awake and roaming the house.
She trailed behind him, her shoes clicking on the tile, then on the concrete of the driveway. He was being an ass but seeing her talking to his dad had put him on the defense. Who knows what lies she’d heard.
When he turned, she was in the sun, the full force of her beauty turned on. Her hair was pinned up, only one small wisp out of place which he thought was sexy as hell. He longed to remove her hairpins one by one, letting her hair fall around her bare shoulders as he kissed his way down her body to her—.
“Hey, eyes up here.” Her words were crisp, and he snapped his head up, finding her unamused gaze.
God, she was beautiful, a freaking spitfire. No question, she got under his skin. But she was dangerous. This woman could spell so much trouble for Dark Eagle, and personally for him.
“I looked at the logs of people flying in and out of Italy.”
He stared at her, not saying a word. He wished he could go back to that night and just be two people enjoying sex. She’d touched him in a way he hadn’t experienced before. He had little doubt what he felt for her began and ended with lust, but somewhere in the mix was a sliver of hope for more.
She narrowed her eyes before she rolled them and stalked away from the house. When she was almost at the end of the drive, she stopped and turned. “Can you be serious here for a second?”
He cleared his throat and stood tall. “My brother is home, thank you.”
“Listen, Jackson, I don’t appreciate being lied to.”
“I’m not lying. I’m happy he’s home.”
“You—” The word had been too loud. Marissa cleared her throat and took a step closer, her voice going low. “You were in Italy, at the town where your brother was being held. Either you had something to do with the kidnapping, or you are stalking me. Both are illegal.”
He lowered his head, so his lips were right at her ear. “I had nothing to do with my brother’s kidnapping. He is the only person in my family I love. He means the world to me, and I would stop at nothing to find him.”
She leaned back an inch, and their gazes met. Hot lust ripped through Jackson, and for a second, he thought she would kiss him. Instead, she pulled back and cleared her throat.
“I’m watching you, Mr. Jackson.”
“Watch me all you want, I’m not doing anything wrong.” With that, he turned and took off at a jog, speeding up as he hit the road. He was doing loads of things illegal, but she had no proof. She was flying blind, and he prayed she stayed ignorant of the truth behind his actions.
Dark Eagle had to step up its game. They couldn’t be making mistakes like Italy. Of course, no one had hired them. They’d gone in and done the operation on their own. They needed more resources and a set of guidelines for situations like this. Hell, he hoped they never had another situation like this. He didn’t like putting Adam and Kelsey in harm’s way. There was nothing funny about being in danger.
After his run and a quick breakfast, he swung by his dad’s house, seeing that Marissa’s car was gone. He entered through the kitchen door, finding the room empty. When he walked into the den, he heard voices in the dining room. He stepped in to see his family sitting down to brunch. A stranger had joined them, and he wondered who the man was.
Randy glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Hey, Reg, good morning.”
“Hello. I’ll be down in a few.” Jackson turned without waiting for his parents to speak. He heard their voices but didn’t pay attention to what they were saying. After a quick shower, he dressed and grabbed his bag, carrying it downstairs. He set it in the hall before he entered the dining room and served himself eggs and sausage from the sidebar.
“Reginald.” The way his father said his name was like nails on a chalkboard. He cringed and pasted on a smile before turning towards the table.
“Yes, Father?”
“This is do
ctor Grace. He’s here to help Randy.”
“He’s a shrink because they think I’m crazy,” Randy said before he took a bite of toast.
“You’re not crazy,” Mom said. “You’re just confused.”
Randy rolled his eyes where their parents couldn’t see. Jackson wanted to laugh, but he held it in. He focused on the food, scarfing down the eggs almost like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. It was an avoidance tactic. If his mouth was full, he didn’t have to talk to his parents. Childish, maybe, but necessary so he didn’t say something that would only piss them off.
“He’d like to talk to you. I’ve explained a little of your problem to him.”
Jackson stopped with the fork midway to his mouth. He had gone to a shrink for months after coming back from being deployed and watching his friends being blown up. It didn’t help. The only thing that really helped was putting a pedophile behind bars or stopping a kidnapping. Talking didn’t mean anything, but his dad wouldn’t understand.
“I’m good. Thanks, but no thanks.”
His mom cleared her throat. Now he was in for it. “I don’t think you have an option. You must do this for your brother.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how me talking to anyone would help Randy.”
“If you don’t do this—”
He cut off his dad and pushed back from the table. “What? What will you do? You already took my inheritance. You cut me off from all money. You kicked me out, made me feel unwelcome. What more can you do?”
His dad stood, his anger evident as he squinted his eyes and pointed a finger at him. “You are a disgrace to this family. You have done nothing but bring dishonor.”
Jackson wasn’t going to listen to this crap. He stood and headed to the hall. His dad followed and slapped him across the back with a newspaper. Silence followed. Jackson counted to four in his head then turned, seeing the fear in his old man’s eyes. He wouldn’t hit his dad though the man had beat him before he’d left home when he was seventeen. Now, Jackson really was bigger, massive compared to his father, and it was abundantly apparent as he towered over the man. Fear clouded his father’s features. Jackson wanted to laugh. Instead, he shook his head and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.