"Jack Cross? Motherfucker. I can't believe you're back!"
Jack winced at the unfortunately familiar voice. "Drake," he said dryly. "It's good to be back." He twisted around on the barstool to face his high school buddy he'd never wanted to see again.
Drake was a remnant from his rebellious phase during senior year. After he quit the football team, he hung out with the tweakers. It was hilarious to see how pissed off his prim and proper father got, but sometimes the reality of seeing someone inject heroin into their neck took the fun of rebellion away.
Jack had gotten lucky. Extremely lucky. He'd done the drug a grand total of three times and somehow managed to avoid an addiction. The high was fantastic. Unlike anything he'd ever experienced or probably ever would experience. But seeing how desperate Drake and his circle of friends were, how they stopped caring about anything else except the next fix, had somehow managed to get Jack to keep clean.
Not that he'd cut ties with Drake. He'd just gone from a member of the inner circle to the lookout. Considering all his jock friends had deserted him, he hadn't minded playing lackey to Drake. He had already been counting down the days to graduation.
Now Drake was a scrawny adult. His skin, hair, and teeth were all ravaged by years of drugs, liquor, and indiscriminate sex, though Jack couldn't judge too harshly for the last one.
"Long time no see," he said as unenthusiastically as possible.
Drake didn't take the hint and plopped in the barstool next to Jack. "You're tellin' me. I heard the old man's about to croak. Did you come back to see if he left you anything?"
Jack's grip tightened on the beer, and for a moment he was rather impressed it didn't break. "I wanted to be with him his last few days."
"That's good of you, man." Drake roughly patted him on the back.
Jack grimaced at the touch, but held back his curse. He probably had a good fifty pounds on Drake, but it wasn't worth the fight. As much satisfaction as he might get from ramming his fist into Drake's grimy face, Penny had filled him in on all the latest gossip. Word was, Drake wasn't just a user anymore. He was a dealer.
Not the shit Jack wanted to get messed up in.
"You make sure to give me a holler if the old man leaves you a pretty penny," said Drake.
"Why the fuck would I do that?" snapped Jack. Still better than punching him in the face.
"You know," he said, calm as could be. "For all that cash you owe me."
Jack glared at him, making sure his expression told him exactly where he could shove it. "I don't owe you shit."
"I seem to recall getting pinched right before you left town. I had a trunk full of stuff that I never even got to sample. Way I see it, you owe me."
Jack opened his mouth to explicitly explain what he would do if Drake ever asked him for money again, but, as if on cue, five big guys strutted through the door. They each wore long sleeves despite the heat, and he assumed it was to cover track marks.
If that wasn't enough to tell him they were with Drake, they clustered around Jack's stool, staring down with stoic expressions.
"I see you made new friends." He tried to imagine any possible scenario he could make it out of a brawl with Drake's gang alive and hopefully with all his ribs still intact.
"I'm not the only one. You've got the Moss girl stayin' with you?"
Jack kept his face blank, not wanting to give anything away. How the hell would Drake know that already? "What's it to you?"
Drake shrugged. "She's a pretty lady. I like the pretty ones."
Jack pushed off the bar stool, slow enough to not frighten Drake's guys, but he made sure that stillness was threatening in its own right. He flexed, his muscles honed through years of hard labor showing clearly through his thin t-shirt, letting Drake know exactly who would win in a fair fight.
"Whoa, man." Drake held up his hands. His men noticeably did not budge. "I'm just makin' friendly conversation. I hear one of my oldest buddies is back in town, I want to say hi, you know?"
"Hi." Jack glared down at Drake.
"Listen, why don't I leave you to it? I have some clients to see, and I'm sure you're a busy man. Later tonight, at the house, I'm hosting a dog show. You should stop by. We can talk."
Testing the boundaries of Drake's hold, Jack took a step forward, relaxing slightly when the sea of Drake's guys parted for him. "If Dad bites it, you'll be the first to know," he lied as he set some bills on the counter and moved for the door.
"I'd better be," shouted Drake. "'Cuz I know where you and your pretty lady live."
Jack clenched his jaw as he pushed his way through the door. Drake was out of his mind if he thought he would lay even a finger on Gabrie.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gabrie sighed as she set down her e-reader. The end of a good book was always bittersweet. She raced like hell through the suspenseful pages, but the second there was nothing left, she wanted to go back in time to relive the thrills.
She leaned back on the soft recliner and tucked her legs under her as she listened to the crickets fill the night air with their loud, echoing chirps. She could get used to country life.
Well, re-used to it. All day, she'd raked her mind for even the slightest memory of Hampton Falls, but she couldn't remember a damn thing. She remembered first moving to the city and a few of the small towns she'd lived in before that, but nothing specific to here.
She'd been so young, and there had been so many moves. The burden of having a free spirit for a mother and no ball and chain to weigh her down. Mom had always told her that the reason her father wasn't around was because they were independent women and didn't need a man to boss them around, but she had always suspected Lily just wasn't sure who Gabrie's father was.
From what Gabrie could tell, Lily Moss was a woman who loved sex early in her life and hated it by the end.
A breeze found its way into the sunroom, and leaves blew against the screens. This room would be one of her first projects. It overlooked the back of the property, and the screen had miraculously held up through the years of neglect and protected her from the constant annoyance of mosquitos. The one good thing about the city was that the little bloodsuckers weren't everywhere.
Or they were, but there were so many more people for them to feed from that they weren't as noticeable.
But the screen acted as her shield, and the comfortable chair was perfect for reading. She wasn't sure she could fit the dated gold-colored fabric into the decorating scheme she'd been thinking of all day, but the chair was so comfortable she might look into having it refinished.
She took a sip of her water as she closed her eyes and let the sounds of the wilderness sing her to sleep. Just as she started to doze off, the sound of a twig snapping vibrated through the darkness. She snapped to full attention, trying to see anything past the small circle formed by the light of the sunroom. "Who's there?" she called.
The screen door screeched open and her heart leapt into her throat as Jack walked in. "Jack! You scared the crap out of me!"
He stared down at her as though she were insane. "Come on. You can't claim you didn't know I'd be here. That excuse only works once."
"I knew you'd be back," she snapped. "I figured you'd come in through the front door like a normal person, not go sneaking around the back like a stalker."
She meant to throw out the accusation lightly, but her mind turned. How long had he been there? He could've been watching her in the dark for hours and she'd have no way of knowing.
"It's my house, so I can come in whatever the hell door I want to. I guess I got used to coming in the back when I lived here. This door wasn't so fuckin' loud back then."
"Oh yeah, I forgot. You were the rebel," she muttered.
"You know it." He eyed her up and down. "Let me guess. Cheerleader? No. You're too smart and haughty for that. But you're pretty enough to be popular. Class president, right?"
Gabrie shot out of her chair; the e-reader clattered to the floor and only served to make her more piss
ed off. "Shut up, Jack. You don't know a damn thing about me and the more you talk, the stupider you sound."
She turned to go back inside, but he grabbed her arm. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means you're an idiot," she shot back. "Now let me go."
He softened his grip, but didn't release her. "No. I'm not an idiot, and I can read people better than anyone I know. So why don't you tell me why that made you so pissed at me?"
She rolled her eyes. "If you're so good at reading people, why should I tell you a thing?"
He considered her for a moment. "Because I can't read a damn thing from you and it's driving me insane."
She let out a sigh. Some of her anger dissipated. She had no idea why. He still held onto her as if he were a caveman with no common decency, but his words were so earnest she was inclined to believe him. Maybe he was just curious about her and if she told him some of her past, he'd leave her be.
"I probably could've been on student council but I was never at any school long enough. Mom and I averaged maybe six months to a year at any place. She kept on chasing bigger and better jobs, but didn't have skills to do much more than waitress. Every get-rich-quick scheme she ever tried would backfire, each worse than the last. So usually what free time I had, I was studying my ass off so I could get scholarships or working odd jobs to get some food on the table when things were really bad. So there. Can you read me now?"
Jack stared down at her, jaw tight and eyes fierce. She hadn't told her past to anyone since she'd had to interview for the college scholarships she'd used to get a degree she hated. As soon as she'd gotten on campus, she'd done everything in her power to transform into a normal student, without a criminal past or a murdered mom.
And this was exactly why. Jack stared down at her as though she was different. As though all the shit she'd been through had contaminated her, made her separate from the rest of the population.
"I told you what you wanted to know, so let me go," she said softly.
His hand slid down her arm and gently rested over her hand. Not interlocking fingers, just resting skin against skin. The unexpected gentle caress sent a shiver through her and she stared at where he touched her.
"You need to leave," he whispered.
The unexpected words jolted Gabrie out of her trance. "Huh?"
"I'm an ass, Darren is Darren, and this entire town is nothing but trouble. Get back in your truck and go back to the city. You're not your mom. You have skills and a job history. You can get another office job and never have to struggle again. But I promise you, this place is cursed."
She opened and shut her mouth, trying to figure out how to respond. "Jack, I need this. I need to figure out what makes me happy, not just live with what everyone says will make me happy. This is my dream. Decorating homes. Making a nest. I can make everyone the perfect house and even get paid for it! Darren is giving me the opportunity to at least try and I'm not passing this up."
Jack scowled. "What about Darren? Does he make you happy? You already dumped him once. What makes you think this time will be any different?"
Gabrie stiffened at the mention of Darren. They'd kissed just hours ago. He expected to come back soon and have her waiting for him. And here she was kind of/not really holding hands with his twin. She tried to pull away, but Jack once again tightened his grip. "Do you make a habit of manhandling women?" she asked.
"Tell me you think you'll be happy with him," bit out Jack.
"Let me go," she said as firmly as possible.
"No." He took a step closer, his body inches from hers. "If I let you go, you're going to run up to whatever room you picked and spend the rest of the night convincing yourself that Darren is the perfect guy for you, but I'm telling you, he's not. I might not know you well, but I know you well enough to see that. Why can't you?"
She tried to look away, an act made harder by how close he was. "And who is the perfect guy for me? You? I barely know you and the few minutes we had together were nice, but they were an accident. One that I'm not going to repeat."
He shook his head. "Haven't you been listening? Neither of us is good for you. You shouldn't run to your room. You should run across the country. As fast and far away from our shit as you can get. As soon as you think you've gone far enough, go a hundred more miles. You deserve better."
She looked up at him, trying to make sense of his veiled words and warnings. What could possibly be so dangerous? Why would he be so adamant about Darren?
But in the back of her mind, a tingling warning of her own went off. The faint hint of agreement she didn't want to feel. Because deep down, she'd had her own doubts about Darren. The perfect one. Perfect in bed. Perfect in a suit. Perfect job. Perfect smile.
How was she supposed to harness all that perfection without feeling somehow inadequate?
Jack was different. Just as beautiful as Darren, but a completely different person. He was as messed up as she was, only he didn't seem as desperate to be normal like Gabrie.
She tilted her head back and looked Jack firmly in the eye. "You'd better get used to me, because I'm not going anywhere."
He took a step closer. So near, she had to crane her neck to keep her eye contact. "Then I'm not responsible for you."
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a grown woman. I don't need a babysitter."
"Good." And then he kissed her.
The shock of his mouth against hers had her gasping for air, and Jack took full advantage; he slipped his tongue in as his hands smoothed around her waist and slid up her back to pull her fully against him.
This is wrong, she thought even as her own mouth moved against his. Her hands wrapped around his neck of their own volition, as though no matter how much common sense wanted her to stay away from this complication, her base instincts cared only about having as much of his skin against as much of her skin as possible.
He gripped her in a tight hug, but before she could pull herself away to question his change of heart, he moved backwards, pulled her with him as he tumbled into the recliner, and positioned her legs on either side of his. The only thing that kept them apart was the thick denim of his jeans and her flimsy pajama shorts.
"Jack," she whispered. "What are you doing?"
"What I always do," he muttered as he hooked his fingers in her shirt and pulled the garment up and over her head. "Exactly what I want." His eyes went dark as he took in her pink front clasp bra, and the skin he'd bared. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss in the valley between her breasts.
She gasped and curled her fingers in his short hair to tilt his head back. "No. Jack, this isn't right."
He gripped her rear and settled her more fully over his erection. "I don't care." He went back to licking and kissing at the border of her bra.
A tiny moan emerged from her lips as her body fought a war within itself: the distinct knowledge that she should push him away and the undeniable need to pull him closer.
And as his callused hands rubbed over the delicate skin of her stomach and reverently cupped her breasts through her bra, she stopped caring.
She let her eyes drift closed as he pushed one of the cups down. His lips closed over her over-sensitized nipple; his tongue stroked the fire that burned within her. Her panting gasps only brought them closer as his fingers found their way to the opening of her shorts and pushed their way past the pitiful protection of her panties.
She expected and wanted those talented fingers to push into her, but instead they found her clit and all rational thought fled from her mind. "Jack, please." She didn't even know what she was begging for. She just knew she needed more. More of his hands on her. More of his mouth on her. More of him inside her.
No. In a frantic moment of clarity, the real world crashed down on her. She pulled away from him. The abrupt motion messed with her center of gravity, causing her to clatter to the floor in an ungraceful lump.
"Gabrie," breathed Jack.
"No! What the hell are we doing?" She twisted around
and looked for where her shirt had gone to. "What we did was a mistake, Jack. We can't go there again."
He leaned over the side of the chair and emerged with her shirt in hand and held it out. "It didn't feel like a mistake to me," he whispered.
Gabrie pulled the fabric close to her like a shield as she stood. "Darren invited me here. He's helping me. I'm not doing this to him."
Jack stood too and faced her down. "Funny, I thought you were doing it to me."
She tightened her lips as she stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm going upstairs," she murmured. Shit. She was one of those women. Juggling men...leading them on. How did this happen?
"Don't bother." He stepped past her towards the door. "I'll let you have your sweet, wet dreams about Darren. I won't interrupt you again," he bit out as he strode out of the porch and let the screen slam shut behind him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jack clenched the steering wheel tighter and resisted the all-consuming urge to turn back. Run into a house he had much more right to than Gabrie and give her a piece of his mind. Explain all the reasons she should want him. She had to feel something. He'd never been so possessed with wanting in his life, and he'd been around some damn attractive women in his travels.
Something was different about her. Something he needed, damn it. Why couldn't she see it too? Instead of turning back, he laid his foot on the gas. He wanted to drive until he didn't even know where the fuck he was, but he knew all these backwoods roads too well to ever truly be lost.
The miles sped by, but nothing seemed to take him farther from the feel and taste of Gabrie. She'd said no. She chose Darren over him. Hell, why wouldn't she? It's not as though he had anything to bring to the table. A crumbling house that might not even be left to him and a job that took him to all corners of the country. She should've taken his advice and got the hell out. Before he or, even worse, Drake got to her.
Drake. Jack's lip curled in disgust as he remembered the threats Drake had tossed around. Ninety pounds of coward surrounded by five bodyguards loyal only to the drugs that ran through their veins. What a fucking waste of space.
Cross Falls Saga - Southern Suspense Box Set Page 5