‘Jax, coffee is made. Nana said to get your butt up and have some of her pancakes. I’ll see you sometime after work I’m sure. Ivory.”
A smile curled his upper lip, and Jax scooped up his jeans. He didn’t have a toothbrush or his toiletries, but a shower would help clear the cobwebs from his mind. He’d never spent the entire night with any woman. The fact Ivory had been the first made him somehow feel guilty. Did that mean she would think he’d gone and made a commitment? Well, he did ask her to move in with him. That would signify an agreement of some sort.
When he looked in the mirror and saw his bloodshot eyes, Jax decided his appearance left a little to be desired. The alcohol hadn’t affected him so much as the flashbacks, the nightmares. He remembered waking to hear Ivory’s soft voice chase the images away. She could keep them away with her words, with her innate goodness. The woman made not only his balls ignite, but soothed the demon that crowded his soul. She tamed the beast. At least for one night.
When he heard pans clatter, Jax maxed his record time. It only took five minutes to wash away the night grit and sex from his body, and he had seated himself in the chair at Nana’s kitchen table with Mickey when she plopped a plate of slapjacks on the table.
She handed him a fork. “Eat up, my boy.”
Mickey winked at him and sipped from his chipped mug. It looked suspiciously like the one he kept at his own place. “Start carrying your dishes with you, Mick?”
He cut into one fluffy pancake, the sweet bread heaven to his starved taste buds. He poured syrup on the pile before he swiped another bite. Mickey’s ruddy cheeks grew crimson.
“Uh, well, I uh,” he started to say, but Nana cut him off.
“We’re getting married.”
Jax choked on the pancake, coughing several times. His eyes watered, and he sucked in gulps of air when he managed to dislodge the food. “Did you say ‘married’?”
“Yes, that’s what she said,” Mickey retorted. “Don’t look so surprised.”
Jax pushed his plate away, afraid if he ate another bite he would suffer death by pancake. Not an honorable way to go. “When?”
“Don’t know just yet,” Nana said, taking her seat next to Mickey. The two of them side by side threw Jax for a sidewinder. Ivory’s grandmother was so tiny and manicured, and Mickey, well, hell, Mickey still chewed and spit on his front porch.
“Have you told Ivory?” Jax sucked down the coffee in front of him.
Mickey shook his head. “She’s got too much going on just yet.”
“We’ll wait until after the first of the year,” Nana supplied. “I want her to celebrate this one with a bang.”
“I think hearing about your impending nuptials would suffice as a bang, Nana,” Jax said.
Nana shook her birdlike head. “Ivory won’t be pleased. She’s very protective of me.”
Jax shifted his knees from beneath the small area. Mickey and Nana’s knees bumped against his too often. He spread his legs out. “Well, I’ve got stuff to do today. Mickey, got any plans?”
“I’m taking a day off to be with my future bride.”
Jax blocked out the annoyance of Mickey’s silly smile and Nana’s pleased grin. He didn’t know how yet, but he was damn sure he’d stepped into an alternate universe. If he went outside, would he see the masses pick up their paper at the same time and wave in unison?
Jax stood, half terrified he would find out his day at the Black house had been a dream, and asked for his keys. He told Mickey he’d see him later, thanked Nana for the pancakes he’d choked on, and hauled ass. He needed to get answers. Talk to Madame Christine and wring Nathan’s neck.
When Jax pulled into his drive, a familiar sports car was parked there. Jax let his forehead fall against his hands. Would the surprises never stop? “Give me a break, already,” he shouted at no one in particular.
When he jumped out of his truck, she poked her head out the door. Skeins of tight red curls of auburn clouded her face. Jax narrowed his eyes. God, help him, he would shoot someone before the day was over.
“Cecilia Janice Stone, what the hell are you doing here?”
Cecilia’s pert little nose wrinkled. “Jax, I need your help.”
Oh, boy. He covered the distance between the house and his godchild in seconds. “What did you do this time, brat?”
Jax judged by her rumpled appearance and lack of makeup she’d probably skipped out of her mother’s place the night before. When he’d been getting toasted. He brushed past her on his way to the kitchen, and Cecilia crossed her arms at his mood. Oh, the-fuck-well. She would deal with it, just as she would deal with his call to her parents. Luke and Sara deserved to know where their daughter had got off to.
“Daddy and Mom got into another fight.” Cecilia plopped down onto a vacant chair, her pointy chin cradled in her hands. “So, I drove here.”
“From New Hampshire?”
Cecilia pushed out her bottom lip. “Besides, Daddy said you got hurt, too, during his rescue. I wanted to come make sure you were okay.”
Jax planted a box of cereal and milk in front of the sixteen-year-old. “Eat. I’m going to change clothes. And then we’re calling your parents.”
When Cecilia’s amber eyes filled with tears, Jax cursed. “Damn women, won’t let me have a moment’s peace. All right, let’s have it.” He used his hand to motion for her to spill the beans, waving his fingers in his direction. Jax leaned his shoulder against the fridge, giving her his best drill sergeant stare.
Her bottom lip trembled, and Jax negated the desire to wrap her up in a big hug, and tell her Luke and Sara fought all the time, from the day they met. “You won’t get sympathy from me, kid. You’re a runaway. I should take you down to BPD and tell them to book your ass.”
The fake tears dried up. She poured a hefty amount of cereal into the white porcelain bowl and spooned a heap into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully before meeting his gaze. “Mom left last night.”
Jax heard the story over and over. Either Sara or Luke left, and every time, neither of them were coming home this time, but they always worked it out. However, the look in Cecilia’s eyes bothered him. Her usually bright smile and cheerful gaze were suspiciously absent. “That bad, huh?”
He pulled a chair out, flipped it around and sat on it backward. She sniffled. “Daddy told her if she walked out the door, he would sign the divorce papers. I didn’t know they’d had divorce papers drawn up.”
Jax brushed a hand over his head, at a loss for words to say to the child. He didn’t deal well with parents. His Mom and Pop were murdered before he really got a chance to know them, and Ivory’s Nana didn’t count. Nor did Mickey. He’d never been a sixteen-year-old with a broken heart over his parents’ dissolution of marriage.
“And I take it she left?”
Cecilia shook her head. The red curls swayed from side to side. “Daddy left instead.”
Jax scratched his temple. “All right. Eat up. I’ll call Luke, let him know you’re all right.”
He went into his office, Luke’s cell phone number ingrained on his memory. He dialed, and Luke picked up on the first ring. “It’s me.”
“Cecilia?”
“Yep,” he said. “She’s pretty upset. Give her a day or two before you come charging in.”
“All right. She tell you about the fight?”
Jax didn’t like to pry into Luke’s marriage, as rocky as it was, and to talk about Sara, one of his closest friends, didn’t always sit right with him. Luke and Sara were just volatile people, and married they became like an ignited cable on a C4 block big enough to take off a corner of the earth. “Said something about divorce papers.”
He heard Luke’s sigh through the receiver, and Jax felt the guy’s pain.
“Sara said if I came home from one more mission busted up, she’d divorce me. Said she can’t do this life anymore, she’d rather have a husband than a corpse.”
Jax felt the jab in his own gut. Luke and Sara had been marr
ied for seventeen years. After all that time, Sara wanted to call it quits. Would Ivory do the same? “So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m a soldier, Jax. It’s who we are.”
Jax hung up the phone, stared at the screen saver on his computer, photographs of missions past, of buddies he’d lost. Each one too young to die. Jax slammed his fist down on the desk. Even wrapped up in a nice tidy bow, Jax couldn’t stop being who he was. And Sara, a woman he both admired and respected for her inner strength, finally broke under her husband’s choices.
The question evolved. Not would Ivory have him, but would she survive a life with him? Or would she just give up and quit after twenty years because he took one too many assignments? Too many people killed? With every life he took, the Grim Reaper came closer to him. Both he and Luke knew it. Sara knew it.
Death was a vicious bastard, and he never relented his hold once you took a step inside his door. Jax drew an unsteady breath. Someday he would atone for his sins with his blood, and he didn’t want Ivory around that day.
Chapter Fifteen
The damn thing wouldn’t work, so, she tossed her pen in the waste basket. She dug around in her drawer for a new one, but couldn’t find the damn package of ten she’d bought a month ago. So much for buying cheap pens.
Ivory blew her hair out of her eyes. Claire relegated her to the desk since her announcement about the baby and would hear none of it. Ivory missed the action of working a case from the outside. Here, at her desk, all she could do to help the city’s children was make phone calls and schedule appointments for her coworkers to take a trip out there.
When she heard a chuckle, Ivory glared at Claire. “This is your fault.”
Her boss braced her hands on the cluttered, yet organized, desk. “I’m sorry, honey, but if you get yourself knocked up, you’re on desk duty. Rules are rules.”
“And where in the social worker’s handbook does it say I have to be on desk duty?”
Claire’s painted red lips quirked up in a half smile. “Not in there. It’s my rule,” she said. “Although, Desiree called in sick. You could cover her stops if you want.”
Ivory bolted out of her chair so fast, the three wheeled disgrace to office equipment nearly toppled. “I’ll do it.”
Claire handed over a folder, and Ivory scanned the list. “Mostly foster care homes. Interviews. All right, I can handle that.” She bent over to clip her 1911 to her waist, for protection, and paused briefly as the thought ran amuck in her mind somehow carrying while carrying felt wrong. Oh well, better to be safe than sorry.
Ivory tucked the file into her bag, along with several forms and a notepad. Since she swore her stomach was already bulging, she’d teamed her black blazer with a baggy silk shirt she’d left un-tucked. Her jeans started to feel tight around her waist, though the legs seemed to fit fine. She’d have to get the kind with a stretchy waist.
The telltale ringing of her black bag alerted her someone needed to talk to her, and Ivory dug around until she found the slim black phone. “Ivory Black.”
“Hey, it’s Jax.”
A smile touched her lips as she juggled her bag and the keys while trying to get into her car. She dropped the keys in the inch of snow, and when she picked them up, her fingers stung from the severe cold. “You sound grumpy.”
“I’ve got an unexpected situation. Think you could swing by later?”
She stuck the key into the ignition, waited for the clock on her dash to light up. She’d be done with work by four. “Sure. I’ve got a few things to do, but this afternoon is free after I pick up Ashley.”
“That’s fine. See you then.”
He rang off without even a good-bye. Not sure what crawled up his butt, Ivory pulled out into traffic, aiming for the coast. The first house on her list lived in Gloucester. Though she didn’t get to do the butt kicking kind of work she’d grown used to, having a chance to talk with the children would be a nice change of pace.
Gloucester happened to be one of her places to be. The city itself was rich with history and fishermen. The docks bustled, people walked about on the sidewalks, both natives and tourists alike. They came to see the statue on the fairway, or visit the bar where movie stars hung out in the movies. The little shops bordered restaurants, and the high school was the center of town.
Ivory nearly missed her turn as she gawked at a man headed into the bar at ten in the morning. She shook her head at the reality some people were so wrapped up in their habit or addiction they became slaves to it.
She quickly became a slave to her passion for Jax, and the part of her that knew it would be painful when he left didn’t care. Ivory wanted to be with him. She turned off onto a side road, the older houses almost gothic in appearance. Clapboard houses sat beside brand new homes. A few even had the little plaques from the Historical Society that authenticated their existence since the 1700s. This part of Massachusetts always amazed her.
Parked, she gathered her bag and made her way across the gravel driveway, careful of ice patches, and gained the stairs. She waited patiently while whoever was inside unlocked the door and answered her knock.
“Hi, I’m Ivory Black with Child Services.”
A slender woman with gray hair and reading glasses perched on the end of her nose stuck her bony hand out. “Elspeth Ashe.”
She took in the tidy rooms as she made her way deeper into the home with Elspeth. She noted the bedrooms and their spic and span appearance. Ivory knew first hand, though, appearances could be deceiving. “Can I speak with the children? Individually?”
“Of course.” Elspeth motioned for Ivory to follow.
She led her into the formal living room where antique furniture and doilies yellowed from age were on display. As if she’d stepped into a museum exhibit, Ivory perched on the end of a high-backed sofa with rose colored cloth. She opened her book, ready to take notes when Elspeth brought in the first child.
Ivory consulted her file. Annie.
“Hi, Annie, I’m Ivory. Would you like to sit with me for a little while?”
Her stats stated she was five. Kindergarten. The little tyke hopped up on the couch, her small hands folded in her lap. She didn’t make a sound.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”
Annie nodded, her short blonde bob bouncing. She was clean, her dress pressed neatly. Manners. Ivory drew in a breath. She looked healthy. “First, why aren’t you in school today?”
When the child did speak, her voice came out so soft Ivory needed to lean in close to hear her. “Teacher’s day.”
Ivory marked the notation down. “How are you doing here?”
“Good.”
Suspicion about the girl’s one word answers settled in Ivory’s gut. Annie did not look like a happy five-year-old, but then again, being in the system made children less joyful and more morose. “Do you get along well with Elspeth and”—she looked for the husband’s name—“Jacob?”
Annie remained mute and only nodded her answer.
Ivory scooted closer. “You know, if there is anything wrong at all, you can tell me, right?”
Annie fidgeted, and Ivory caught Elspeth’s narrowed gaze as she hovered in the doorway. “It’s all right,” Ivory said and patted the child’s hand. “I don’t mind. I can’t sit still myself.”
Annie gave her a small smile, her brown eyes less shadowed.
“Well, I think it’s all right if you run along, then,” she said, and Annie bolted for the door, probably for the safety of her room. Obviously, Elspeth Ashe ran a tight ship.
Her nasal voice cut through Ivory’s thoughts. “Would you like me to bring in the next child?”
A clamber of footsteps greeted the silence between Ivory and Elspeth, and an older gentlemen with a bald head peered around the corner. “Hello. I’m Jacob,” he greeted her. His white teeth and bow tie gave Ivory the creeps.
“Ivory.”
“Well, I’ve got young Marcus here for you,” he said.
Another child of ten or so lumbered into the room. Again, clean. Well fed. A scrape above his eyebrow concerned Ivory, but in the interview process she’d make sure to ask. “Hello, Marcus.”
“Hi,” he said. He kept his head down, watching his feet, as he joined her on the sofa.
“Are you enjoying your day off?”
And so it went, Ivory met and talked with each child. Though Elspeth and Jacob seemed overly strict on their children, Ivory couldn’t fault them for keeping them in line. “I think I’m finished here,” she said. “If you have any questions, just call this number.”
Ivory passed over her card. When she reached for the door, the Ashes stood side-by-side. Only Jacob offered a smile, and Ivory high-tailed it back to her car. The stiff welcome and even less comfortable good-bye gave her the willies.
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