The Devil has a British Accent: Book One: Jackson (White Carpet #1)

by Z. N. Willett

  “I couldn’t miss the final party.”

  “I heard Blake went to England. I thought you were with him?”

  “News travels fast in this town. I wish I were with him.”

  Neesha smiled. “I bet you do.”

  “Are you glad this is all over?” I asked.

  “I’m not going to miss the early morning set calls, but I’m going to miss everyone.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “They’re like an extended family.”

  I glanced around at the large number of people. “A very big family.”

  “What about you? Aren’t you going to miss working, and especially Jackson?” She grinned.

  “I actually will. Jackson and I are friends. We’ll keep in touch.”

  “You seriously believe that?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Lauren, people like them, don’t remember people like us.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “Trust me. I’ve been doing this for a while. They say they’ll keep in touch, but they don’t. You’re lucky if when you see them again, they remember your name.”

  “I think Jackson will remember me.”

  “You’re fooling yourself, Lauren.”

  That comment irked me. “For believing Jackson wants to remain friends?” I stated a bit too loud.

  “Yes.”

  “No!” The word jumped out of the darkness. Jackson glared at Neesha as he stepped closer.

  Neesha and I were both startled.

  Jackson wrapped his arm around my waist and gave me a stern look. “I’m not planning to let you go.” He gave a passing glance to Neesha. “Who are you?”

  “Jackson, this is my friend, Neesha. She was an extra.” I tried to diffuse the tension.

  Neesha looked as if she were going to cry.

  “I wasn’t sure what she was to you.”

  I furrowed my brows at him, and smiled apologetically at Neesha. “We were talking about how we’re going to miss all of this.”

  “Is that so?”

  Neesha was only able to whisper, “I was happy to be a part of it.”

  Jackson distastefully ignored her. “Lauren, we’re coming back.”

  “What?” I was shocked.

  “We have two more movies to film.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”

  “You should.” He grinned. His expression switched when he glanced at Neesha. “I need to speak to Lauren, privately.”

  As he pulled me away, I waved back to Neesha, embarrassed by Jackson’s behavior. “That wasn’t nice.”

  I followed him into an empty tent.

  “She wasn’t nice. I heard what she said.” He turned me around to face him. “Lauren, do you think I could leave and never talk to you again?”

  “Honestly, Jackson?”

  “Yes,” he said, sounding perturbed.

  “Not purposely, but I understand how things work. Your schedule will continue to fill up, and your time will be limited. We’ll try at first, but things will eventually get in the way. Look at this week. I barely saw you—and you were here.”

  He moved in and pressed his forehead against mine as he entwined our hands. “I thought about you all the time. I hated that you were all alone, in his place. I wanted to sneak away and see you.”

  “It was nice having some time to myself, but I would’ve loved if you had sneaked away.”

  He pressed a warm kiss on my lips. “I see that now.”

  “So, where does this leave us, Jackson?”

  “Nothing changes. I’ll do whatever I have to for us to work. I’m not going to lose you.”

  Looking into his eyes, I knew he meant it, but I had a clearer understanding of our reality. His career would always come first, and finding time for extracurricular activities wouldn’t be easy. Jackson’s hands were already full, juggling both our relationship—and his fake one.

  Jackson abruptly pulled away, shaking his head as he acknowledged David Black approaching us.

  The name “David” made my stomach cringe, and I felt the familiar bile rising in my throat at just the thought of him. I was surprised I didn’t hear him slither into the room.

  “Jackson. Lauren,” David greeted us.

  I took a step to the side and positioned myself as far away from him as possible.

  “David, did you finalize everything?” Jackson asked.

  “It’s taken care of.”

  “Then I’m scheduled in two weeks?”

  “Pre-production will be the following week, and I will be over that Friday.”

  “Great. I wanted to take the week before to show Lauren my favorite places in Spain.”

  Jackson threw me off guard. We spoke about me visiting him on set, but that wasn’t supposed to happen for another month.

  “Jackson, so soon? I haven’t even made up my mind yet.”

  “I told you, I want to spend as much time with you as possible. The sooner, the better, and you’re going to love Sitges.”

  “Absolutely not!” David interrupted.

  “You have no say in the matter, David. This is my choice,” Jackson retorted.

  “Nothing is your choice, Jackson. I’ve entertained your fling long enough. You’ve had your fun. This relationship is over!”

  Stunned couldn’t describe what I felt at that moment.

  “You cannot control this part of my life, David.”

  “Jackson, I can see why you’re attracted to this . . . girl, but you’ve had your fun. The studio will not support you if this does not end, now.”

  A spark of anger erupted inside me.

  Jackson looked at me and shook his head.

  How he knew I was about to leap forward and slap that jackass was beyond me. I tried to maintain some control, but I heard the rumble in my chest.

  “David, we can talk about this privately?”

  “Why? She will not be coming to Spain, and she will have no further contact with you. The whore needs to know this will go no further.”

  Jackson lunged at David before I could, so fast, it was a blur.

  “Let’s get something straight. I don’t care what you or the damn studio thinks! I will continue to see Lauren. And if you ever disrespect her again, I will rip your damn tongue out!” Jackson was visibly infuriated.

  They continued snarling at each other until David started speaking to Jackson in another language. It wasn’t anything I recognized, and it sounded ancient.

  Gradually, Jackson’s face straightened out, He took a couple deep breaths and stepped away from David.

  At that point, I became aware we were being watched. Several men with earpieces circled around us, as they gauged the situation.

  “David, Lauren is well aware of my relationship, and she’s been discrete. Hell, she’s handled it better than I could. Things wouldn’t have gotten out of hand, if you had taken care of the problem sooner. I’m not backing down. I care for her, no exceptions.”

  David regarded Jackson for a moment, but said nothing. He turned and glared at me as he walked past us.

  “Jackson, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine!”

  “What did he say to you? I couldn’t understand.”

  “Do you speak Latin?”

  I wanted to say, “Of course not you ass!” and “Who speaks Latin these days!” But, he looked remorseful.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to . . . it’s nothing,” he said, caressing the back of my neck.

  The heaviness of guilt washed over me—it was all because of me. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Lauren.”

  “I’m not going to be the cause—”

  “Lauren!” He was angry, too angry.

  “Jackson, please. I keep causing you problems. I think David’s right.”

  He gripped my arm. “Why are you always trying to end us?”

  “I don’t want to come between you
and your career.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I am. You heard him.”

  “Ignore him!”

  “He threatened you! He threatened me . . .” My voice trailed off as I realized what I’d admitted.

  Jackson squeezed my arm harder. “He’s threatened you?”

  “Jackson.” I looked down at his hand. He let go. “Not in so many words.”

  Jackson was enraged, showing a side of him that scared even me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because, I thought I could handle it. Cary explained—”

  “Cary! He knew? This keeps getting better.”

  “Only because it slipped out—and after the masquerade ball, he felt I was being targeted.”

  “What are you talking about, Lauren?”

  “Look, ever since we met, obstacles seem to get in the way. I don’t want to be your obstacle. I don’t want you to make a decision that you may regret because of me. I can’t be the one David uses to hurt you and your mom. Can you understand that?”

  His face went blank, then he walked away.

  I watched, thinking he would turn around and come back after he cooled off, but he kept going.

  I tried to catch up to him as he headed toward the entrance.

  He stopped to talk to the valet, who handed him some keys, then he marched to his car.

  I yelled his name and started after him, but he got into his car and sped off.

  I watched the dust swirl around the disappearing taillights. I didn’t know how long I stood there before a guy from the valet service asked me if I needed help. I could barely find my voice.

  “Here, have some water, ma’am.” He handed me a bottle.

  The water tasted strange, salty, but I thanked him.

  “Anything else I can do, miss?”

  “Can I have my car?”

  In a few minutes, I was behind the wheel of my car. My internal autopilot turned on, my arms made the motions, but I wasn’t driving. My cell phone woke me out of my trance.

  Jackson?

  No, Ruben.

  Damn it, I forgot, I was supposed to tell him when I was leaving. I wanted to drive myself tonight, so he followed me.

  I called Jackson. No answer.

  I kept driving, mistakenly believing I would see his brake lights and catch up to him. Maybe I could explain better.

  However, what I couldn’t explain was why the hair on my arms and back of my neck stood on end—or why I sensed I wasn’t alone in the car. Something felt too familiar—similar to the night of the shooting. It was the exact same feeling.

  A cold wind circled me as an eerie presence caused my body to shiver. Excruciating pain developed in my head, causing my vision to blur, making me lose control of my car. I firmly grabbed the wheel to steer it back onto the road, but the pain intensified.

  A high-pitched sound blared in my ears, as the steering wheel turned sharply.

  But, it wasn’t me!

  Something controlled my steering wheel as I frantically tightened my grip on it. My head pulsated, blood ripped through my veins, and fear gripped my body.

  Alone in the car, I saw nothing as I fought for control from the unexplainable. My hands tore into the steering wheel, fighting whatever was causing it.

  By the time I realized I was off the road, it was too late. I heard a loud crack as the car jerked violently, bouncing as it fell.

  Screamed prayers rushed out from the depth of my soul, asking God to help me, as my head slammed into the steering wheel.

  When my eyes shot open, I couldn’t tell if I was conscious or dreaming. Darkness was everywhere, and in the deepness of it, I felt as if I were sinking. A strong odor of rust and mold filled the air. I heard creatures stirring around me, as I lay entombed in my car. Strangely, I felt no worry, no sorrow, no fear. My mind was empty. Ready to accept my fate.

  I heard breathing—then two heartbeats. I tasted the familiar touch, as fingers caressed my face. Hands wrapped around my back, and the warmth of their body pressed against mine. Their breath poured over my hair, lingering lips kissed my forehead, then they withdrew—and I was alone.

  Thunder sounded in the distance, and I saw light streak across my closed eyelids. Rumblings of drums and cymbals clashed violently together in the distance. As I forced my eyes open, I found myself lying on grassy, rocky marsh.

  I sat up as lightening lit up the darkness, and I saw swift moving forms in the distance. Another flash, and a form crept past as fear encompassed me; the light cast a shadow off the beings that wrestled in the background. Human forms, not male or female, illuminated from the darkness, but they were clearly not human.

  Their build and shape where all unique, yet they appeared strangely similar. Each one seemed to be emitting a different color glow of blue, red, yellow, or white haze.

  Some had flowing, long hair, while others had spikes or horns lined across the top of their heads. A few wore ancient helmets that covered their entire head.

  Many were dressed in clothes, some not from current times, while others wore breastplates and military garments that were from another era.

  What frightened me the most—if that were possible to determine under the circumstances—were the ones whose skin seemed webbed or attached to their bodies, like bats. A couple even hovered overhead with giant eagle’s wings.

  Everything I saw was unreal, until a disturbing question came to mind. “Was I dead?”

  Suddenly, the flapping of wings and clashing of swords became louder as the ground shook. The sky lit up again, and I gasped at what looked to be hundreds of those things fighting in the distance.

  A strong gust of wind blew by, and one painfully knocked me forward. I pushed myself up again, but was singed by red and yellow glowing rocks that surrounded me and hissed like lava.

  As I glanced down, I saw blood dripping from my head as it flowed down my arm, making me aware of the pain that throbbed through my skull. I struggled to keep my eyes open, while the sound of battle grew riotous in the distance.

  I blinked out the tears, my eyes fixated on two magnificent, human forms glowing close by. Something about them seemed real, but as the pain in my head grew more intense, I began to struggle for consciousness. When I called out for help, one heard me and turned its head.

  My addled brain thought, “It couldn’t be?”

  It looked like him from a distance, but his skin was different, brighter, and eerie in a way.

  He swiftly appeared in front of me, and I panicked. But, when his hands cupped my face and his fingers gently wiped my forehead, I knew.

  I forced out his name, “Cary,” before I collapsed.

  The smell of metallic was strong. There were familiar beeping noises, followed by tightness around my arm. I woke as the blood pressure cuff tightened, and immediately regretted taking a deep breath as pain shot along my abdomen.

  Opening my eyes was a challenge; a beaming, bright light shined directly in my face, making me regret that decision, as well. When I looked up at the stark-white ceiling, I saw an IV bag hung over me.

  I survived . . . again.

  My stomach knotted as I tried to turn my head, but something restrained my neck. Closing my eyes, I thanked God for sparing my life. He heard my plea for help.

  I remembered how I’d felt someone else, and that I saw him. Yes, I saw him, and I called out, “Cary!” I knew it wasn’t a dream.

  “She’s opened her eyes!” I heard Ashley’s voice.

  “Praise God! Angels were watching over you, precious,” Mamaw cheered, relief and thanks evident in her voice.

  I saw Ashley’s silhouette hovered over me.

  “Don’t ever do that again! I can’t handle it, Lauren.”

  I tried to sit up. “Take it easy, child. Don’t move,” Mamaw instructed.

  “I need to sit up.” My mouth was dry and voice hoarse.

  “Why are you so stubborn, like your mother? Let me help.” Ashley pushed some buttons on the bed that raised my head
. She fed me a few ice chips.

  “What do you remember, Lauren?” she asked.

  “I was driving, and a sharp pain in my head kept getting worse. I lost control . . . the wheel! Something was wrong with the steering, but most of it’s all jumbled.”

  “Hun, we were told you lost control of your car and drove into the swamp. It’s a miracle a passing State Trooper saw your tire tracks, and the broken bush leading down the ravine.” Tears trailed down Ashley’s face.

  “What about Cary? Is he here?” I asked.

  Ashley looked concerned. “Cary and Blake were in England—remember?”

  “That can’t be . . .”

  “They were in Manchester together, but Cary was called back early for another situation. He was already flying back to the States when we called. He’s on his way. Blake couldn’t book an earlier flight, so Cary is going to send Victor’s jet back for him.”

  “I thought . . . huh.”

  Ashley examined my face. “Jackson is here. He came as soon as he heard.”

  “Can I see him?” I leaned forward, but my head started throbbing. “Ow!” I said under my breath, trying to downplay that moving an inch hurt like hell.

  “Lauren, sit back, now!” Mamaw scolded. “Child, you need your rest.”

  “Mamaw, I need to—”

  “You need to rest! You can visit later.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” was the last thing I remembered saying before I fell asleep.

  I woke up gasping for air, feeling as though I were drowning and couldn’t breathe. I heard my heart monitor slow down, as fingers brushed gently across my forehead.

  “It’s okay, baby.”

  I looked into tired eyes, reaching out to touch his arm. “Jackson, I’m sorry.”

  “No, Lauren. I’m an ass. I should’ve never walked away from you. This wouldn’t have happened!”

  “I didn’t want to be a burden. But I always am.”

  “What more do I have to do to make you see how much I care?”

  “I know you care.”

  Jackson took my hand, raised it to his face, and showered kisses up and down the inside of my wrist.

  “I promise I will never walk away from you again.”

  “And I promise I’ll think before speaking.” I sighed.