by BJ Wane
Julie’s lame excuses for dropping in on Jackson after all this time must have appeased him somewhat, because he spent the next twenty minutes regaling her with stories about his practice. She laughed at some of the antics he had to put up with from both animals and their owners, and grew teary-eyed over the heartbreaking cases that couldn’t be saved. By the time they finished the dishes, exhaustion dragged her down, but she still didn’t know if she was welcome to stay.
She turned from picking up her glass off the counter and bumped into his tall, big frame right behind her, so close the heat emanating off him seeped into her bones. “Oh, sorry. Jackson…”
He lifted his big hands to her shoulders and squeezed, a comforting gesture that drew an ache to lean against all that solid, male strength. “Stay, Julie. Get your bearings, decide what you want to do, where you want to go from here. It’s all right.” He kissed her forehead, just like he used to do, and the tears welled up again. “I have paperwork I need to see to in my office. Take the guest room across the hall from the bathroom. Goodnight.”
RETREATING to the small office attached to his bedroom, Jackson pored over his accounts until his tired, gritty eyes blurred in front of the ledger sheet displayed on the computer screen. The door to the guest bedroom had clicked shut over an hour ago, and he’d spent that time tamping down the urge to go check on Julie. It appeared time and distance hadn’t worked to suppress the protective streak he’d always harbored for her, and now he wondered if anything could. Resigning himself to another long night plagued with questions and the haunted look in a pair of violet eyes, he shut down his work and the lights. Sliding into bed, he wished he could turn off his feelings as easily as with a flick of a switch.
The next evening, Jackson pulled into the Gold Star Marina and parked his truck next to Dax’s vintage Corvette. He didn’t make the gang of seven’s impromptu poker games as often as the others due to the forty-minute drive from his place to the Miami marina, but after spending another day watching Julie make herself damn near indispensable around his clinic, her soft voice stirring more than one organ, he needed both the break and his friends. All three part-time college employees planned to bunk in the converted loft space in the barn tonight, so he’d been comfortable leaving her for a few hours. The rescue and clinic sat between the small town of Piedmont and the Miami metropolis, and not everyone found the isolation as soothing as he did.
Strolling down the pier toward the mega yacht his friend, Zachary Allen-Vancuren, had surprised the hell out of them with, he tried to shove aside the worry reflected on Julie’s face she’d done a lousy job of hiding. When he mentioned his plans to meet up with his friends, she’d assured him she would be fine and was used to amusing herself, but her eyes continued to give her away. He planned to stay only an hour or two, and since the Carlson brothers, who lived in Pensacola, couldn’t make it, the five of them would get through a few games in that time.
Sprinting onto the shiny teak decking of the triple-tiered luxury vessel, he walked toward the lit up, enclosed gathering room, wondering what Julie would think if she knew what else he enjoyed playing on the specially equipped yacht. Maybe he needed a few hours of uncomplicated sex, with him calling the shots, to stifle the growing sexual awareness and pulse-pounding need he had never planned on for the sweet kid he used to know. Then again, he’d indulged in those proclivities numerous times over the years, first at Chains, a popular BDSM club in Miami and, in recent weeks, on their own private floating playground. And here he was, aching for her after being reunited just thirty-six hours.
“Glad you could make it,” Sean called out from the small corner bar they only stocked for social gatherings. After Zach deeded the yacht in all their names, they’d agreed with him it would be best, and safest, to keep alcohol out of the equation when they set sail on a BDSM play party cruise. “What can I get you?”
“One beer’s my limit tonight. I’m beat and have a long drive back.” Jackson crossed the plush carpeted floor and tried not to picture Julie’s slim, naked body bound on one of the center poles or positioned over a padded spanking bench, before taking a seat next to Miles at the popped-up table in front of a curved couch along the back wall.
“Doesn’t the college help stay over on Fridays? You can always bunk below and leave early tomorrow.” Zach handed him the cards to cut.
“I’m more comfortable being there.” Jackson didn’t want to mention Julie until he knew how long she’d be staying. They all knew how he’d befriended her and had asked about her on and off over the years of silence. Miles was the only one who saw through his evasive answers, and the one he’d called when he’d gotten so drunk a week after his trip to New York, he’d needed help caring for his animals the next day.
Miles flicked him a black-eyed look. “If you start claiming to be Dr. Dolittle, we’re stepping in, bro.”
Miles’ rare, dry humor drew chuckles around the table, and Jackson suspected his best friend spotted his tension. “I promise the dogs aren’t talking, at least not yet. If they do, I’ll be sure and make an appointment with Sean.” With a PhD in psychology, Sean suffered a lot of ribbing over his penchant for keeping an overprotective eye on the gang. They all carried serious baggage from screwed up childhoods and the psych doc instinctively knew when one of them was reliving the demons of their past.
“They don’t make padded rooms for nothing. I’ll take two.” Sean slid over two cards from his hand. “Everything ready for next weekend?” he asked, referring to the shelter’s annual adoption day fundraiser.
“God, I hope so. If it’s not, it probably won’t get done.” Jackson switched his gaze to Dax, sitting next to Sean. “How’s the puppy?” He refused to flinch when Dax drilled him with a blazing, green-eyed stare, and knew better than to grin.
“Puppy?” The renowned neurosurgeon tossed in three cards and shook his head. “More like a pony. Do you know what large piles that dog produces?”
Zach clapped him on the back with a laugh. “Sap. You could’ve told your sub no.”
“Like you did Sandie when she wanted two cats instead of one?” Jackson drawled. They were all happy for Zach and Dax, who had recently embraced new, committed relationships, so why did he now find their good fortune tugging at his usual affable disposition?
Zach’s taunting grin turned to a scowl. “We’re not discussing my sub. Sandie’s in enough trouble.”
Miles smirked. “What’d she do this time?”
“She got a fucking job.” Zach tossed in his hand, acting as if that asinine statement explained everything.
“That deserves a long session with a flogger. Want my help? You shouldn’t let such an erroneous infraction go unpunished.” Sean’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on Zach and earned him another scowl.
“Stuff it. As I’ve said before, I’m filthy rich, she doesn’t need to work. I offered to build her a damn art studio where she could paint to her heart’s content, but oh no, she wants to hold art classes for kids at the Art Institute, thinks they can learn more if they’re surrounded by all different forms of art by a variety of artists.”
“Sounds admirable to me. The girl’s got talent. Why not share it with others?” Dax tossed in a few chips. “Call.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The twinkle in Zach’s blue eyes as he stayed in, calling Dax’s bluff, hinted he wasn’t as put out with Sandie as he let on.
“You’re such an ass,” Jackson scoffed, tossing in his lousy hand. The good-natured complaining and comradery went a long way toward mellowing his mood, as he’d hoped, and by the time he raked in the fourth hand, he was ready to head home.
It was after midnight when he turned onto his property and parked behind the house. Glancing over to the barn, he noticed the lights on in the loft window, and was relieved the guys were still up. They would’ve heard anything amiss and aided Julie if she’d needed it. As he climbed the back stairs, fatigue urged him to tread straight back to his bedroom and turn in, but when he passed the guestroom and saw a sl
iver of light under the door, he couldn’t help but check on her.
Inching the door open, Jackson spotted Julie’s bundled form under the covers, sound asleep. Crossing with quiet steps over to the bedside lamp, he resisted the temptation to run his fingers down her smooth cheek and brush back her dark hair. Flicking off the light, he left her alone, something that was getting harder and harder to do the longer she remained. With any luck, the relaxing evening with his friends would aid in giving him a decent night’s sleep, and he’d awaken with a handle on how to deal with her.
CHAPTER 3
A knock sounded on the hotel door as she slipped into the bathroom, more to get away from Maci and Candace than a need to use the facilities. She blew out a breath, frustrated with her friends and this whole shoot. She wanted to go home, but was starting to question whether she wanted to call New York home anymore.
“What the hell are you doing here, moron?”
Candace’s scathing voice caught her attention. Who was she talking to? Low voices reached through the closed door, one deep, two taunting and rude, just like earlier that day. Worried, she had her hand on the door when Maci’s pain-filled cry penetrated the wood, followed by the slam of a door. He must’ve left. She cracked the door, but a shriek of terror-laced pain forced her to shut it again and reach for the light switch. Within seconds, her friends’ whimpering, fearful pleas replaced their ridicule, but that wasn’t enough to stop the angry, tormented ranting of the man terrorizing them. She couldn’t make out his garbled, furious tirade, but she knew, God help her, she knew who it was and why he was hurting them.
Her heart crawled into her throat and lodged in a threatening chokehold of icy fear. Sliding down against the door, she clapped her hands over her ears, trying desperately to shut out the screams, the gurgles and the now goading male laugh. Why didn’t someone come? Couldn’t they hear them as well as she could? It seemed like the torturous sounds went on for hours before they stopped with an abruptness that added to the terror gripping her shaking body and clawing at her insides.
Minutes passed without sound except her labored breathing and pounding heart. The whoosh of the slider, then strident voices and pounding on the door, broke through the roaring in her head. With trembling effort, she pushed to her feet and cracked the door again. The metallic odor of blood penetrated the darkness, then light spilled into the room from the hall and she saw… and screamed.
Julie bolted upright and opened her eyes to more darkness. Panic exploded and propelled her off the bed to stumble onto the floor. Cowering, she covered her ears, rocking, wondering where she was, where the light had gone, why the screams wouldn’t stop. Whenever nightmares pulled her from the darkness of sleep, there was always a light on to guide her to the bathroom, to safety. Fear and memories threatened her sanity, her head still ringing with high-pitched, terrified screams and low, taunting laughter. Desperate to erase them, she rose, took a blind step, then lost her balance again when she fell over her bag. Fumbling with the zipper with cold fingers, she gasped when she found the side pocket and heard the rasp as she slid it back.
Her heavy breathing echoed harsh and loud in the quiet dark as Julie shoved her hand inside and grasped the small knife, gripping it like a lifeline. Gasping pants of fear turned to desperate whimpers then a soft cry of relief as sharp, blessed pain blossomed on her thigh. But this time the pain didn’t distract from the fear because there was no light to assure her the scent of blood was hers, not Maci and Candace’s. Just as desperation prompted her to go for another slice across her skin, the door flung open with a bang against the wall and Jackson came barreling in wearing nothing but a look of alarmed rage.
“What’s wrong?” Those dark blue eyes zeroed in on her leg and the knife clutched in her hand. Struggling with whether to shrink from his incredulous look or throw herself at him and cling, Julie watched in numb silence as he knelt in front of her and gently pried the knife from her hand. “What the hell happened to you, Julie?” he whispered, and she knew he didn’t mean just the cut on her leg.
“I… the light. What happened to the light?” Embarrassed, shaken and still scared, she buried her face in her hands.
“Ah, Christ, baby. I turned it off when I came in. Shit, shit, shit, come on now. I need to see to your leg.”
Jackson struggled to control his own trembling as he swung Julie into his arms and could feel her entire body quaking. She’s a cutter! What the hell had driven her to resort to such a dangerous habit? Her chalk white face emphasized her wide, dilated eyes as he set her down on the closed commode lid and stuck a cloth under cold water. Wiping the dripping blood off her leg, he pinned her with a stern look, needing answers. “Why? Something other than waking up without a night light on triggered this.”
Julie turned her head away, her profile vulnerable as he followed her convulsive swallow and noted her fisted hands in her lap. Enough. He was tired of her evasions and needed to know what had happened to the vain, self-centered woman he’d left behind and had thought replaced the young girl he’d cared for all those years. That young girl just returned as a shell of her former self, traumatized from something he hadn’t been around to protect her from. Keeping pressure on the cut with one hand, he reached down and grasped her chin, forcing her face up to his as he leaned over her. “Tell me.”
Despair filled those beautiful eyes with tears, but she locked her jaw in that familiar, stubborn way he remembered so well and jerked out of his hold. “I can’t, Jackson, at least, not yet. It’s… it’s not a pretty story. Please, don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad.” Except maybe at himself for not being there for her. Tossing the washcloth in the sink, he reached into the medicine cabinet above it and grabbed a box of band aids and a tube of antibiotic ointment. “I’m worried, curious and a bit taken aback at the change in you.” This time, when she looked away from his direct gaze, her eyes skittered down and lingered on the semi-erect state of his cock he couldn’t seem to control since feeling her in his arms wearing nothing but a nightshirt and panties, her soft, unfettered breasts pressed against his chest, her bare, slim legs under his arms.
Julie’s heartbeat, which had eased from its frantic pounding, accelerated again when Jackson’s lips curled at the corners in a tease when she couldn’t bring herself to look away from his blatant male beauty. Not even the throbbing on her leg detracted from her lingering nightmare as much as her first glimpse of his magnificent body. He’d always been big, tall and muscular, even as a teen, and she couldn’t deny fantasizing over whether the rest of him was as big. But it was more the commanding look on his face and in his grip and tone that sent her nerves fluttering and ignited a need inside her that left her aching.
“Can you put some clothes on?” There was desperate, then there was desperate.
“Are you going to give me an answer if I do?” With one finger, Jackson glazed the cut with ointment, the light stroke both painful and soothing. After applying a band aid, he pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger. Julie didn’t know if it was her exhaustion, fear of revealing the truth or desire that made him relent when he said with a sigh, “Never mind. We’ll talk in the morning. Are you all right enough to get back to sleep?”
“I’m much better,” she replied, even though she really wasn’t. “I’m sorry for waking—” He stopped her with a finger over her lips, and the urge to suck that digit into her mouth nearly overwhelmed her.
“You don’t have to apologize. Go to bed, Julie. Leave your light on. I’ll be here in the morning.”
As soon as he stepped back, Julie jumped up and hightailed it across the hall and closed her door. She fell back asleep wondering if his last comment was a promise or a threat.
SATURDAYS WERE when Jackson got the most customers looking to adopt from a rescue shelter, and it was his busiest day of the week even though the clinic wasn’t open. Julie’s bedroom door remained closed by the time he downed a quick cup of coffee and toast and went out to open the front gate. Whate
ver happened to force her into the self-destructive habit of cutting herself must have been bad, and the thought of her suffering had kept him awake the rest of the night. Striding down the drive to the front gates, he admitted he couldn’t force her to talk to him, and now that he knew she’d been traumatized, there was no way he’d ask her to leave. Which left him without answers, and that was unacceptable.
Two cars were already idling, waiting for admittance, but for once there wasn’t an abandoned dog or other animal tethered and shivering, waiting for someone to care for them. He dealt with scared, abused animals every week and rarely couldn’t turn them around, coax them into first trusting him, then others again. He would think of Julie as one of his strays in need of understanding and guidance. One way or another, it was paramount to get to the truth. Waving the cars through, he followed them back up the drive as he pulled out his phone and sent Sean a text, asking him if he could meet up tomorrow. If anyone could advise him, it would be the psych doc. He and the guys all gave Sean a lot of grief over his tendency to watch over them with a protective eye, always there to offer unsolicited advice in the form of an innocuous observation or comment that never failed to drive home a point.
Matt, Alex and Ryan came out of the barn looking like they’d slept as well as Jackson had. He didn’t mind when they stayed up and tied one on as long as they weren’t driving and were quiet. Thirty-seven wasn’t so old Jackson couldn’t remember enjoying cutting loose on weekends after a long week of studying. But chores wouldn’t wait regardless of hangovers, and Matt already tended to shirk his duties without that excuse. It still irritated him when he thought of Julie cleaning out the kennels. Not the work, as she’d already proven what a hard, conscientious worker she could be. But he knew Matt had taken advantage of her and used that time to slack off—he just couldn’t prove it.