What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9)

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What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9) Page 102

by Kristine Cayne


  “Well, he was at my house. I’m afraid I probably had something to do with his mood.” Jessie said quietly.

  Kathy raised an eyebrow in question. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not right now. I do need to call you later, though. I want to bounce something off of you.”

  “Okay, talk to you later.” Her friend hugged her, and Jessie drove home.

  Connor finished the dishes, and walked into the dining room, to find Kathy cleaning the floors. She stopped and looked up at him when he entered.

  “What did you do to her, Connor?”

  “What do you mean, what did I do to her?” Connor bristled.

  “She doesn’t do contrite. She’s the most unapologetic person I know. What happened between you two?” Her hands were on her hips, and she stood there, expectantly.

  He sighed, heavily. “I honestly don’t know, Kathy.” And he didn’t. He wanted her, and she wanted him, but it couldn’t ever happen.

  Kathy wasn’t giving an inch. Connor could see the protectiveness welling up inside of her. “Well, she came here to make something right. Can you think of something that’s wrong, she might want to make right?” Connor was silent. “Because Jessie has never cared enough about anyone with testicles to try to make something right. She usually just writes them off. If you are fucking with her or her business, I will personally see to it you regret ever setting eyes on her.”

  He wasn’t particularly afraid of her threats, even though he knew she would make good on them. He did realize however, Jessie had come to make an overture, and he knew this was at least the second one she had made towards him, and he had rebuffed it. Again.

  “Fine. I’ll go talk to her.” Even though he knew if he went back to her house, he wouldn’t be able to just talk. Fuck Brandy. He felt something inside of him shift, some primal motivation in his life changed right then. He decided to not let his ex rule his life anymore. He could do this.

  As he went back into the kitchen to remove his chef’s coat, and hang it up, he noticed the mirror on the counter again. It was sitting on the counter he had wiped, not ten minutes ago. And it hadn’t been there then.

  “Dammit.” He growled, as he picked it up. Slamming the mirror down on the edge of the counter, he heard a satisfying shatter as the mirrored glass broke into a dozen pieces. Not giving it a second glance, he again threw the creepy thing into the trash can before stalking out the door.

  When Jessie got back to her house, she was suddenly livid at the sight that met her in the driveway.

  Chad’s cruiser was parked haphazardly in the yard, and he was sitting nonchalantly in one of her rocking chairs on the porch as if he owned the place. She took a deep breath to calm her ragged nerves before exiting her truck and stomping toward him.

  “Chad. What in the hell are you doing here?”

  “Good afternoon to you too, Sweetness. I just stopped by to check on things. I heard you had a complaint filed against you.”

  “I need you to leave, Chad. I’m tired of being civil.”

  “I’m not leaving, Jessie.”

  She had climbed the porch steps, slowly, every muscle tense, each of her nerves on full alert for whatever Chad had planned. She knew he had something in mind.

  “Yes, you are.”

  He stood then, his motions a blur. His hand grasped her wrist, tightly, dragging her towards the door. “I’m tired of you talking to me like I’m trash. You are going to open the door, and we’re going to have a nice time today, Babe.” His arms were around her waist tightly, his chest to her back as he pushed Jessie towards her front door.

  “You are trash, Chad. I’m not letting you inside my house. Ever.” She knew she was pushing him too hard, but his grasp around her was too tight. She couldn’t get to her purse. She cursed herself. She should have had her gun ready when she got out of the truck.

  Chad pushed her against the door, slamming her head into the window, just hard enough to leave a bump, but not break the glass. She stomped on his instep, eliciting a growl of rage from him, but he didn’t let go.

  He spun her furiously, and grasped her upper arms, shaking her. “You think you’re better than me? Huh?” He slapped her then, bringing a stinging heat to her face. She tasted blood. Chad continued to shake her. “Nobody’s better than me, Sweetheart.” He stopped shaking her, and leaned in close to her face. “I’m the best.” He pulled an arm back and let loose with a punch in her face, which sent her back into the door, breaking the window before she slumped to the ground. He kicked her once in the thigh before picking her up again.

  “What’s so special about you, Jessie?”

  The pain in her face from his punch made her want to vomit. There were black clouds invading her peripheral vision, and her thigh throbbed painfully. His fist connected with her ribs, sending a guttural moan from her.

  “Yeah, baby. That’s a good noise. Have you ever noticed the noises people make when they get beat up sound a lot like the noises they make when they’re making love?”

  He punched her again in the face. “I’m gonna mess up your pretty face, Jessie. Then nobody else will want you, and you’ll come begging me to fuck you. But you know what? I won’t do it.” She slid to the ground, where he kicked her in the leg once more before spitting on her.

  Connor drove into the yard, wondering about the police cruiser. When he saw the cop on the porch, the rage inside of him took over. The civil servant was standing over Jessie, a crumpled heap on the ground, kicking her. Connor slammed the door to his pick up and ran over to him, yelling. He was oblivious to Connor, though. Connor watched him spit a glob of mucus on Jessie before turning to meet Connor’s fist.

  Connor had at least a foot on this guy, in addition to thirty or forty pounds. As soon as he turned, Connor recognized him from the night at the bar, when he had taught him a lesson in manners.

  “Some people never learn…” He punched him in the stomach, watching as the smaller man doubled over in a whoosh of expelled air. Connor used his other fist to pound him in the side of his head.

  The smaller man stood and swung wildly, making contact with the side of Connor’s face. Feeling nothing, Connor let loose with a volley of punches, imagining this punk ass was the punching bag his dad had set up for him in high school. It had been a while since he’d worked out on it, but the muscle memory was still there.

  Connor worked the cop over, punching his body, alternating punches to the head, beating his face to a bloody pulp. He felt nothing but rage. Rage at Brandy melded with rage for this guy’s treatment of Jessie as well as rage at himself for his treatment of her today, and Connor set his fists free. He could see nothing except Jessie, lying on the porch of her home, nearly unconscious, while this prick kicked her.

  The man was on the ground, making no moves to fight back, and Connor managed to stop himself and take a step back.

  “Connor.” A weak voice made him turn to see Jessie, propped up against her door. “Stop. He isn’t worth it.”

  Something inside Connor snapped. He slumped, and shuffled over to Jessie, stooping to lift her in his arms and carry her into the house without a second glance at the bloody bundle of cop in the yard.

  “Are you okay?” Connor enquired, as he gently lay Jessie down on her couch. He hadn’t ever been inside her living room before, although he had seen it on the way to the kitchen. He didn’t look at it now. His eyes were on Jessie.

  Her eyes and lips were swollen, and beginning to purple. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

  “Aw, honey…” He cupped her face gently, wanting to go back outside and pound more life out of the guy who did this.

  “I’m okay.”

  “You will be. Hang on a second.” He grabbed his cell phone, and called emergency services, never for a second thinking of himself. He knew he could go to jail for beating the man so badly, but he didn’t care.

  When he was finished calling, she held her phone out to him. “Now, take pictures of me.” He obliged, tak
ing pictures of her face from all angles. When he finished with her face, she stood shakily, and raised her shirt.

  Connor inhaled deeply. Her perfect body had been beaten and bruised. The swelling was already evident. Nodding silently, he started snapping pictures with her phone. When he finished with her torso, she dropped her pants, and Connor almost wept when he saw the boot prints on her legs.

  Snapping away with the phone, he asked her, “Does anything feel broken?”

  “No. Just bruised. It hurts, bad though.” She said quietly. A siren sounded outside.

  “Can you get yourself dressed?” Jessie nodded, and Connor went to open the front door.

  He led a police officer back into the living room, while the other police officer stayed outside to check on Chad. Connor could see him talking into the walkie-talkie on his shoulder.

  In the living room, Jessie had managed to sit up, and reached her hand out to Connor. He grasped it, and she clutched his hand tightly, as if drawing strength from him.

  Connor sat next to Jessie and listened, while she told the police officer about Chad. As she talked about their past, their breakup, his continued advances, and the borderline stalking, Connor wondered briefly why she hadn’t called the cops on him before now.

  When they turned their line of questioning to him, he explained how he had driven up and seen him kicking Jessie while she was on the ground, and how he just lost it. Connor was not apologetic. The only thing he was sorry for was there was probably no permanent damage done. He wished he had left something for the man to remember him by.

  The police insisted that Jessie go to the emergency room, for official documentation of her injuries. Connor drove her there, her bruises purpling further. On the way, somebody must have made a phone call, because Judge Foster was waiting for them when they got into their semi-private area for treatment. Jessie closed her eyes against the vision and impotently wished she was back at home watching movies on her couch. Connor squeezed her hand reassuringly, reminding her of his presence. She squeezed back, grateful.

  “Jessie, I cannot tell you how sorry I am that this happened.” The older man clasped her other hand in both of his, in what she imagined he thought was a paternal gesture. If he had any memory of her paternal connections, he would have realized that was a bad idea.

  “You know, I remember Sonny well. Sonny and I had a bit of a history, you might could say.” Jessie groaned aloud, unable to hide her reluctance to talk about her dad in front of Connor, with Judge Foster, of all people. Apparently, he just didn’t care that his paternal gesture was lost on her.

  Judge Foster patted her hand one last time before releasing it, “I want to let you know, that if you choose to not press charges, I will be forever in your debt, Jessica. I have powerful connections.” He reached over and squeezed her shoulder, eliciting a flinch from Jessie. “I think it might be time for Chad to realize his potential in a different professional capacity. Maybe Huntsville would be a better fit for him? Hmm?” With this final cryptic comment, Judge Foster squeezed her shoulder one last time, turned and left, closing the curtain behind him.

  Connor was silently fuming throughout this exchange. Jessie could feel his bodily jerks through his hand, continuously grasping hers. She looked up now, to see his jaw clenched, hard gaze fixed on the curtain where the Judge had left.

  “Welcome to Serendipity, Connor.” Jessie said softly.

  “What do you mean? You’re not seriously considering it, are you?”

  “What’s the point? If I press charges, his uncle will find a way to get him off. This way, Chad will be two hundred miles away, and the judge will owe me a favor. Maybe I could use it to my advantage…Win-win.”

  “Except Chad gets away with beating the shit out of an innocent woman. Who wins there?”

  Jessie sighed heavily, pretending she was in her own bed with her down comforter, instead of here in this portable hospital bed with the scratchy sheets and vinyl mattress. “You don’t get it. Judge Foster is an elected official. He’s a County Judge, and has been forever. If it gets out that his nephew, who he probably helped to get that job in law enforcement, is an abuser, his career is over. He’d rather pull some strings and make everybody happy.”

  “I get that, Jessie.” Connor’s voice was gentle, but his words weren’t. “What I don’t get, is why you would let him do this.”

  “Because he’s powerful. If I don’t do this, he could find a way to shut down my business, some health code violation, impound my goats, something that would end me. Then I would not only have been abused, but I would be used as well.” She closed her eyes against his steely blue stare. “I just need to think a while.” Turning over to face the wall, she effectively ended the conversation.

  Jessie heard the scrape of the chair as Connor pulled it up next to the bed, and felt his hand rest on her hip. The gesture comforted her, his light grip on her warmed her insides, made her feel as if he cared about her. She realized that no one had ever made her feel like that before.

  “Connor?” she asked, hesitantly. She knew she wanted to ask, but wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  “Hmm?” His low rumble made the pool of warmth expand in her belly.

  “Why did you come back to the house?”

  “I felt bad about the way I treated you earlier. I was upset about something else, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for that.” She rolled over in the bed to face him. The pain in his eyes was evident. “I wish I hadn’t left you at all this morning.”

  She reached up, to push a lock of hair out of his eyes. “It’s okay, Connor. You don’t have to apologize.”

  He clasped her hand, gently. “I was awful at the restaurant.”

  “It’s okay, Connor. You more than made up for it this afternoon.” She smiled at him, trying to relieve some of his discomfiture. It didn’t look like he was comfortable with the whole apology thing.

  The doctor chose that moment to walk through the curtain. He was a young man, harried looking, with rings under his eyes, and a wrinkled lab coat that had the name Robert Evans stitched over the breast pocket.

  “I’ve read over the reports, and looked at the x-rays, but just let me get a look at you myself.” The doctor efficiently prodded and poked Jessie, grunting in thought as he did. “You should see the other guy…” He muttered under his breath, obviously an old joke to the ER doc. Finally, standing up straight, he appraised Jessie, then Connor.

  “You can go home. I’m keeping the other over night.” Looking to Connor, “You did a number on him. He’s much worse off than she is.”

  Connor grunted in approval, his eyes not leaving Jessie.

  “The nurse will bring in your release papers. Motrin for the inflammation and pain should make you feel better.” He spun abruptly and was out the curtain to the next waiting patient.

  Connor expelled a deep breath, startling Jessie. He rose and walked over to the bed Jessie was in, and sat on the edge. “Are you going to be okay, Jess?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry I ever met Chad.” She sat up, gingerly, and leaned against Connor’s chest, breathing in his comfort. He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

  Connor’s heart broke for Jessie when she raised her head to look up at him, and he saw the bruises darkening around her eyes.

  “Yeah.” He said gruffly. “Now I see why you keep a gun in the barn.”

  “Nah. That one’s for snakes and stuff. He’s why I carry a gun in my purse. I just wish I’d had it today.”

  He stiffened in surprise. “You carry a gun in your purse?”

  “Yeah. A .380 with crimson trace laser grips. It’s pretty sexy.” She smiled, grimacing as the pain in her face set in.

  Connor’s voice deepened, as he drew her closer to him. “You’re pretty sexy.” His arm around her shoulder fingered her hair, stroking its silkiness.

  “Even with a puffy face?”

  “I wish I’d killed him.” Connor growled at her.

  “So. What does
this make us?” She asked hesitantly.

  He faced her, and held her hand, stroking the knuckles, feeling the roughness of her work-hardened skin.

  Taking a deep breath to steel himself for this conversation, he dove in. “Jessie. At the least, we’re friends. I’ve been telling myself for a long time I can’t have a relationship. Today changed that for me. I came over to tell you about it. What I found when I got to your house sealed the deal.” He touched her face, tenderly, tracing the bruise around her mouth. “I want to be with you. How do you feel about that?”

  She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, and Connor felt a let down. Here was where she was going to give him a reason they couldn’t pursue this. And he would have to abide by it. There was no way he would force his affections on her after what she’d dealt with today.

  “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you at the Gin.” She shifted in the bed, finding a more comfortable spot, her hand on his chest. “In fact, I probably would have tried to bring you home with me, if it weren’t for Chad. That’s pretty much my MO.” Connor stiffened at the information. “Chad’s the last guy I took home from the Gin. He pretty much ruined me for strange men. And he was giving me shit that night, so I really wasn’t in the mood.” She laid her head down on his chest. “But as we got to know each other, I realized the attraction we have is definitely real. Every chance you gave me, I took. Even though my business is my world, and a relationship with you would put that in jeopardy.” Her voice trailed off.

  “Why?” What could a relationship with him possible do to jeopardize her business?

  “Well, nothing ever lasts with me. We will break up, eventually. And you’ll take your business elsewhere. That’s only natural. I can’t afford to lose your business. You’re my loan payment.” He could feel her smile against his chest.

 

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