Jameson's Salvation

by Riley Edwards

  Jameson wanted to kick his friend. It was good news the sheriff’s department was going to share what they had. So far it had only been a one-way street of them passing along what they’d found but that’s where the flow of information stopped. Jonny couldn’t reciprocate. But as welcomed as the news was, Kennedy was no longer smiling.

  “I’ve been thinking. It’s pretty hard for someone to hide in a town as small as this,” Kennedy started. “And after my mom told us the rumors about Peyton being Reggie’s biological son and you guys found that Peyton owns part of Reggie’s business, what if Reggie’s hiding Peyton on one of his properties? If Reggie’s delivering provisions, Peyton wouldn’t have to leave.”

  “Smart woman,” Chasin praised.

  “We’ll start running down any property he’s purchased that still has the electric turned on,” Jameson instructed.

  “And starting tomorrow, I’ll tail him. If he is making deliveries to Peyton he’ll take me right to him,” Chasin said.

  “Hey! We’re home!” Nixon’s voice boomed up the stairs.

  “You wanna go down or we can eat up here?” Jameson asked.

  “Go down.”

  Chasin left the room and Jameson got Kennedy sorted. She wasn’t pleased when he carried her down the stairs and set her on the couch, but being Jameson was twice her size, there wasn’t much she could do except complain.

  They’d filled Nixon and McKenna in on Kennedy’s suspicions and both had agreed she was on to something.

  With her cheesesteak on a plate in her lap, Kennedy announced, “I want to help.”

  Before the three men in the room could protest, McKenna answered, “That’d be great.”

  “McKenna,” Nixon warned.

  “What? She can help me narrow down Reggie’s properties. I could use the help.”

  McKenna did not need the help. As a matter of fact, Kennedy would slow her down. McKenna was their resident computer genius. She could easily hack into any computer system and get them any intel they needed.

  “We’ve been digging into Reggie, but we’ve been going soft sticking to legal parameters. I think it’s time to—”

  “No, McKenna. We need to build a case. We can’t do that if the information is obtained illegally. And tomorrow you’ll be deputized, you cannot break the law,” Nixon told her.

  “No one will know,” McKenna huffed. “Besides, we don’t have to use what I find, but it will point us in the right direction. I could hack his cellphone in two point five seconds and you know it. I could have his camera and mic on and we could listen. And if I do it tonight before I’m deputized, then Jonny won’t be on the hook if I am caught.”

  “But you’ll be on the hook,” Jameson reminded McKenna.

  Fire lit in the woman’s eyes before she narrowed them on Jameson. “So? Do you think I care? Reggie Coleman is behind Kennedy getting hurt. I want him nailed down, now, before he tries something else. And all ye with little faith in my skills are assuming I’d get caught. Which you all know I won’t.”

  “I don’t want you to get into trouble, McKenna,” Kennedy spoke up. “Actually I don’t want anyone in trouble or hurt. Maybe—”

  “Don’t go there, Kennedy,” Jameson started. “We are all in this with you. And McKenna’s right. We’ve been playing by the rules and it’s got us nowhere. We need to tap his phone, but I’m going to do it.”

  “You don’t know how,” McKenna snorted.

  “You’re right. But you can stand beside me and tell me what to do.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No. That’s me being culpable and you keepin’ your nose clean.”

  “Whatever.” McKenna shook her head.

  Jameson sat next to Kennedy with his own plate piled high with pizza.

  “I don’t want you getting into trouble,” she murmured.

  “Babe, me hacking into Reggie Coleman’s cellphone is the least of our concerns. When I get my hands on the fucker who hurt you…now that’s when we need to start worrying.” Kennedy’s eyes widened and Jameson continued. “Eat your dinner. When we’re done, we’ll go upstairs and get you a shower and settled for bed.”

  Much to Jameson’s surprise Kennedy didn’t argue. She simply nodded her head and dug into her sandwich.

  “I had no idea someone could hack a cellphone and turn on the camera. Here I thought by disabling the GPS on my phone so it couldn’t be tracked, I was doing something,” Kennedy grumbled.

  “Not so much,” McKenna returned and smiled.

  McKenna chattered on about how much help Kennedy would be in the office. It finally dawned on Jameson what she was doing and Jameson smiled. The woman was brilliant. With Kennedy in the office, she’d be under constant guard and there’d be no argument. And by Kennedy helping, her mind would be occupied and she’d feel useful, leaving less room in her head to think about the attack or that her business had taken a hit. Now that the sheriff’s office had requested Gemini Group’s help, they’d be paying the bills. Tomorrow, Jameson was going to talk to Nix about putting Kennedy on the payroll.

  That would be a hard sell, not on Nixon’s part, but getting Kennedy to accept.

  Jameson was feeling a little lighter. This would all be over soon and he and Kennedy could get back to their lives.

  At her home, in her bed, where they both belonged.

  20

  Kennedy

  What a difference a shower and a good night’s rest did for someone’s disposition.

  It may’ve helped that the shower had included Jameson climbing in with me and washing me from head to toe. Then he’d clothed me and put me to bed before he did the same for himself.

  After he’d settled me in his favorite position with my head on his chest and my arm resting on his bare stomach, he told me stories about growing up in Eureka, California. Hearing stories about his childhood saddened me, but it also explained a great deal. He’d started working at a salmon factory before he was old enough for a work permit and had been paid under the table. Every weekend for years he put in as many hours as the owner would allow and gave his mother, who worked as a maid in one of the many historic hotels in town, all of his money.

  What little he brought home helped, but not enough, and he and his mother moved a lot, either after eviction, or when she missed the first rent payment and knew they’d be kicked out so she’d leave before it happened. The most heartbreaking part was when Jameson had said he’d gotten so good at moving he could have their belongings packed and ready in under two hours.

  I couldn’t imagine. I’d lived in the same house my whole life. The more Jameson talked the more I wanted to crawl on top of him and shield him from the memories. I knew it was crazy but I wanted to firmly plant him in my house and lock the door so he could never leave. I wanted him to have a home. A place where he wouldn’t have to keep his stuff packed because the place he was staying was temporary. Even his room at Nixon’s wasn’t permanent. He lived liked he was a guest in that house.

  The longest he’d stayed in one place after his dickhead father had bolted was his last year of high school. And that was only because he’d quit playing sports and got a job at a logging company making enough money to pay the rent on a two-bedroom apartment. They’d stayed there for eighteen months. Then he moved his mom into a one-bedroom when he left for the Navy and continued to pay her rent until she could afford it on her own. With Jameson gone, she could afford to live on her own.

  Which only made things worse for him—thinking he’d been a burden to her all those years.

  It was utter bullshit. A child is not a burden, but when I’d tried to explain that to him all he said was, ‘babe’ and I dropped the subject. It was painful for him to talk about, yet he’d shared it with me. I wouldn’t push him into seeing the truth. Not yet. But one day, I’d convince him his mother didn’t see her beloved son as a hardship or hindrance. They’d both caught a raw deal.

  Now I was sitting in Jameson’s office running down a list of properti
es that Reggie Coleman owned. We’d narrowed it down to the ones that had homes, and McKenna had taught me how to check if there was electricity being delivered.

  So far, I’d gone through ten addresses since they’d been gone and five had power hooked up. I still had ten more to go.

  How in the hell had Reggie Coleman amassed so many listings? Sure, some of them were junkers and according to mortgage records, he’d bought them each for under thirty thousand dollars, but that added up. Especially when you took into consideration he also had purchased land valued at a million dollars. I hadn’t taken the time to do the actual math, but averaging what Chester River Holdings owned without the rental income, he’d acquired nearly fifteen million dollars in property.

  Now that may not be a lot in the city, but for a small town land developer in Kent County, that was a whole hell of a lot. Reggie lived in a nice home, drove a brand-new pick-up, his wife always had a top-of-the-line model of whatever she drove, but I couldn’t imagine him having fifteen million dollars at his disposal. He had to be in debt out his ass, especially because he was sitting on the properties and not flipping them.

  And to think the bastard had only offered me half of what my fifty acres was worth, like he was doing me a favor.

  What a prick.

  I heard beeping from downstairs and I reached for my phone. When Jameson had left, he’d said they would be gone about an hour. It had only been twenty minutes. Footsteps had me pulling up Jameson’s number. My finger was hovering over the call button when Weston yelled if anyone was there.

  I shrank back into the seat and tried to calm my racing heart. Nothing like overreacting.

  “Hey.” Weston popped his head into the office, both of his hands bracing him in the frame.

  “Hi.”

  “You okay?” he asked, studying me.

  “Yeah. You just scared me.”

  “The alarm was set,” he reminded me. “It would’ve blared like a mother if someone came in.”

  “I know, Jameson told me. I’m just a little jumpy.”

  He nodded his understanding and his eyes went to the computer screen.

  “What are you working on?”

  “Checking which of Reggie’s houses have electricity.”

  “Find any?”

  I ran down what I’d found as Weston came in and plopped down in the extra seat.

  “Good work. When you’re done, we’ll go check them out.”

  “How was DC?” I asked, taking a break from my search.

  “Too long. It’s always good to see Alec and catch up, but I don’t understand how he lives in that place. The traffic alone is enough to make me crazy.”

  “Sorry, I don’t know who that is.”

  “Alec Hall is our contact at Homeland. Good guy, former SEAL, he left the teams a few years before we did and went to DHS. I think he’s regretting it now, working for the government means rules and red tape. Alec is a lot like us and doesn’t play well with others. I’d be surprised if he lasts another three years.”

  I nodded as if I understood what he was talking about even though I really didn’t. I knew nothing about Homeland Security or how the government ran.

  “Jameson said you were there about a contract. Did you get it?”

  Weston tilted his head and once again he was staring at me funny. “Jameson told you that?”

  “Is that a problem?” I answered with a question.

  “No. No problem.” Weston righted his head and gave me what was supposed to be a reassuring smile but it did nothing to ease my discomfort. “Yeah, we got the contract. There’s been chatter about drugs being trafficked using the Maryland waterways. I mostly sat through meetings with the Coast Guard and the Delmarva Pilots’ Association.”

  “I take it you don’t like meetings?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  Weston sat back and the chair squeaked from supporting his large frame. He crossed his leg, resting his ankle on his knee, and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Though I wasn’t sure I wanted him to ask me anything now that his expression was serious.

  “Why are you here running properties instead of getting your ground worked up or building a new beehive?”

  Jeez, nothing like a slap in the face.

  “I’m helping—”

  “No, you’re not. You’re hiding.”

  My back shot straight and as much as I wished I could conceal how much his accusation hurt, I couldn’t. Mostly because it was the truth.

  “I’m not trying to be a dick. You’re Jameson’s woman. You’re obviously welcome here and at the house anytime. But this isn’t you.”

  “How would you know? You don’t know me.”

  He chuckled though it held no humor.

  “I know you well enough to know you’re the only person who can handle Jameson’s gruff, asshole attitude. I know you’re the only woman who’s ever made him laugh. I’ve seen you take both Nixon and Jameson straight on when you don’t like that they’re trying to boss you. I know you take care of yourself and your mother. I know you’re stronger than this. So why are you here?”

  “Someone broke into my house—”

  “Yep.”

  “And then someone attacked me—”

  “Yep.”

  “They burnt down my hives and killed my crops.”

  “Know that, too.”

  “Can’t I take a fucking minute?” I asked irately.

  “Sure, you can take all the minutes you need as long as they don’t turn into weeks, then months. Everyone needs to regroup, revise, and plan. Is that what you’re doing, or are you giving up and hiding? Because I have to tell you, that would be disappointing. I didn’t think you were a quitter.”

  Ouch. That hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. I wasn’t a quitter. Never had been, not once in my whole life had I not tried and tried until I couldn’t try anymore.

  “I’m not a quitter,” I said, even though that was exactly what I was doing and my stomach roiled.

  “That’s exactly what you’re doing if you allow this setback to ruin you. So, take your minute, then get your ass back in gear. We all have your back. All you have to do is ask. Hell, even if you don’t, none of us are going to let you go at this alone.”

  “I don’t like asking for help,” I admitted. “I don’t like feeling like I’m taking advantage of my friends or taking handouts.”

  “Tough tits, sweetheart. You think I’ve made it through thirty-two years on this earth without needing help? You’d be wrong. You know what makes me, Nix, Chasin, Jameson, and Holden such a strong team? Know how we all survived when shit went to shit out in the field? Because we had each other’s backs. We helped each other. We trusted each other. You never push your team away, you lean on them, you ask for help and trust they will come through for you.”

  “But you’re—”

  “If you tell me we’re not your team, you’re gonna seriously piss me off,” he bit out.

  “But—”

  “You’re Jameson’s—that means you’re one of us.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” I threw my arms in the air in frustration.

  “It means that Jameson has claimed you. It cannot be lost on you that he avoids people like the plague. He doesn’t trust anyone but us. He hides behind his bad attitude to protect himself. But when he lets you in, you have his loyalty for life. He tried, but didn’t succeed in pushing you out of his life. He spent seven days moping and if you can believe it, his disposition was worse than his normal hateful insolence. He struggled with letting you go, thinking he was doing the right thing. He spent those days watching the video feed from the cameras outside of your house, like a hawk. And at the first sign you were in danger, he did what we all knew he wanted to do—he couldn’t get to you fast enough. Don’t forget to be the strong woman he fell in love with, because none of us have.”

  “He doesn’t—”

  “Not my bus
iness.” Weston held a hand up.

  But even as I tried to deny it, Jameson’s words echoed in my head. Maybe I could stop dwelling on it if I could forget holding the woman I love while her blood seeped from her head and soaked my skin. And in the darkness of my hospital room while Jameson held me tight, I’d finally said out loud what I’d known for a while—I’d fallen in love with him.

  “I’ll let you finish your searches.” Weston stood. “Think about what I said.”

  He left Jameson’s office without me confirming I would follow his instructions. He was right, I knew he was, but I wasn’t ready to admit that I was behaving like a coward. I wasn’t ready to ask for help even though Jameson had offered it. There were a lot of things I wasn’t ready to process, so I went back to searching Reggie Coleman’s properties, and like a big, fat chicken I buried it.

  21

  Jameson

  They’d been back from being deputized for an hour and something was wrong with Kennedy. Jameson hadn’t asked her because he had a feeling she’d lie and say ‘nothing,’ which would irritate him. He knew she wasn’t tired because last night she’d slept like a rock.

  And he’d know because while she snoozed on his chest, he’d laid awake. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d see her bleeding. So somewhere around midnight he’d given up sleep in exchange for listening to her breathe. But she’d never stirred in his arms. Her weight was comforting but not enough for Jameson to get some shuteye.

  Kennedy had finished the searches she’d been working on and they’d split the list. Jameson and Weston took half, and Nix and Chasin the other. Holden was staying back in the office with McKenna and Kennedy.

  He’d walked her back into his office and closed the door. Memories of the last time he’d had her pressed against the wall flooded his brain. He’d been a monumental dick. It was a miracle she’d forgiven him. He wasn’t going to dwell on the whys and wherefores she’d allowed him back into her life, he was simply going to take it and be grateful—and not squander the second chance. He knew he’d never get a third if he’d fucked this up.