Chapter Eight
“You’re fine,” the old priest said. “I’m a friend of Jackson’s and the only reason I’m here.”
I laid my hand against my thumping heart. I’d assumed the worst and thanked God I wasn’t always right.
“What happened?” I sat upright and peered around the bar, searching for Jackson. I couldn’t see him and wondered if leaving me stranded with a roomful of men in the middle of a forest was his revenge on me.
A bearded man puffing a cigar and holding a stethoscope in his hand walked up to me. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked.
I relaxed and called up the last thirty minutes in my mind – the rumble of a motorcycle, trees, clearing, bikes, dilapidated building, mud puddle, Jackson’s helping hand, Jackson’s muscled chest, Jackson’s lips...I was having difficulty breathing. The room was spinning –
“She’s hyperventilating again,” a loud voice said at my right.
Someone cupped a paper bag around my mouth and ordered me to inhale and exhale deeply.
Minutes later, I returned to my normally unflappable self. “Where’s Jackson” was my first question. “What happened?” my second, and “How long was I unconscious?” my third.
“He stepped out for a few minutes. You fainted, probably from anxiety. A couple of minutes.”
I peered at the speaker, the bearded man of earlier. “And you are?”
“Thomas Hayes, Veterinarian. At your service, madam.”
“You tended to me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, grinning.
“That’s fitting.” My head hurt. I massaged my temples.
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Because I’m a horse’s heinie.” I had to be for letting Jackson take vengeance on me. “Do you always carry a stethoscope? I didn’t know vets did.”
He laughed. “We don’t, but on my way here I’d stopped at Miller’s farm to check on a new foal and had my kit bag with me.”
I could feel someone’s gaze on me and turned toward the source. Jackson was leaning against a far wall, watching me, his hands jammed in his jean pockets.
I looked him in the eyes. “Have you had enough fun? Can we go now?”
He shoved off the wall and walked over to me. He brushed a strand of hair from my eye. “But we only got here. Don’t you want a beer?”
How could I refuse such a gracious invitation? “Sure.” Whatever Jackson wanted he’d get – up to a point.
“Why don’t I introduce you first?”
“Yes, why don’t you.”
“Josie Fox, I’d like you to meet my friends. The old geezer standing next to me, looking like he should be mopping stalls is Wight Allaby, my lawyer.”
I shook his proffered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He kissed the back of my hand.
“The pleasure is mine,” he said.
Jackson moved on to the next gentleman. “I believe you’ve already met Thomas.”
“Yes. My doctor,” I said, smiling. “Hi, again.”
I looked at Jackson. “You got me. I believed you when you said you were taking me an exclusive club.” Honestly, if he smiled any wider, he’d split the corners of his mouth. I surveyed his friends. For those whose names escaped me, I knew of them and their areas of expertise. A lawyer, doctor, judge, veterinarian and chiropractor. Dentist, priest, architect, social worker and psychiatrist. Jackson Carlisle had influential friends.
I stared up at the water-soaked roofing boards. “How did you find this place?” I asked.
“That part was easy. I own it. Bought it last winter.”
“I’m glad I didn’t put you to too much trouble. What are your plans for this architectural find?”
Country music blasted at my back. I looked over my shoulder and saw Thomas walking away from a portable boom box. He tipped the beer bottle he held in his hand toward me and nodded as he walked to his friends converged in a circle just inside the door. I smiled and turned back to Jackson.
“Fix it up, of course.”
Fix up the fixer-up-er. Somewhat like me. Feeling a little peevish and bold, I stared at the bulge in his crotch and wondered how far Jackson had taken this joke. There was only one way to know. “True or false?” I asked, not diverting my gaze.
“That’s all me, baby.” He grabbed two beers from an ice-filled washtub and handed me one. “You should know. You saw me naked.”
“Yes, but at the time, I had other things on my mind, so I couldn’t truly appreciate your …um … assets.” What a lie. I remembered his tight abs and butt with extreme clarity.
“Maybe you’ll have another chance.”
“Maybe.” I didn’t think so. Jackson had his revenge on me and now we were even. After tonight, we’d have no further contact.
An Equal Measure Page 10