by Carolina Mac
Jackson ambled into the kitchen in his underwear, his long hair untethered and unruly, hanging in his eyes and obscuring his face. “Didn’t hear you get up, baby,” he mumbled.
I put my phone down and pushed his hair back. “Couldn’t sleep,” I said. “I needed to know what was being done about Stan. They found the Hummer up in Idaho. Looks like he might be making a run for BC.”
Jackson sighed and plunked down on a stool at the island. “I feel so bad about Billy. Calling him an asshole and putting him down like I did when he wasn’t answering his phone, and all the time he’s lying on the floor shot and beat unconscious. I should have known something was wrong.” He pounded the counter with his fist.
“I feel the same way. I never dreamed Stan would double back to Vegas knowing the cops were looking for him here. With the blood trail across the garage floor, I’m hoping that Billy blew a chunk of meat out of him and that will slow him down some. At least cause him pain.” I made Jackson some breakfast and poured him a coffee. He was calmer this morning and in a slightly better frame of mind.
Angel tore through the kitchen barking wildly and scratching at the front door. I opened it a crack and a young man thrust an electronic signing tablet towards me. “Avis Rental, ma’am. Your insurance company sent over a car for you. Could you sign here, please?” I signed, thanked him and he handed me a set of keys.
“We have wheels now to go to the hospital.” I tossed them on the counter and headed to the shower.
Jackson followed on my heels to the bedroom and wrapped his arms around me. “You’re not yourself, baby. What’s wrong?”
“It’s killing me that Billy got hurt doing us a favor. It’s my fault for not sensing the danger that was lurking out there. I hate myself for not killing Stan in the kitchen when I had the chance. None of this would have happened—not Billy getting shot, and not what happened to you. This could have been prevented with one well-placed bullet to the head. I was so fucking stupid. Why didn’t I kill him when he was standing right in front of me?” I yelled. I stomped into the shower and turned the hot water up until it stung my skin.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Jackson was lying on the bed. “You’re right, Annie. We have to kill him ourselves. The cops aren’t catching him, and we can’t live in peace with him running loose.”
I exhaled a big breath and lay down beside Jackson. “I would track him in a second, but right now, Billy needs us. We can’t up and leave him lying in a hospital bed alone in Vegas. We have to wait until Billy is better, and by then who knows where your father will be.”
“What if we split up, baby? You stay with Billy and I track Stan.”
“That’s an excellent thought… but the other way around. I have a better chance against your father. You stay with Billy and I go.”
“Not happening. I won’t let you go alone. He’s a killer.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
Jackson shook his head. “This is my problem and I’ll take care of it. You’re not going and that’s final.” Jackson’s voice had a hard edge to it. “You go to the hospital and stay with Billy where you’ll be safe while I get the stuff I need.”
“What stuff do you need?” I asked.
“What I really need is a fast pickup in a dark color. Maybe a Ram SRT-10, the one with the Viper engine. But I don’t have time to buy it and wait for the plates and the registration and all that shit,” he said.
“Money talks, Jackson. If you go buy the truck now and encourage them to get it ready for you while you pick up the other stuff you need, I’m sure they can be persuaded.”
He raised his brows. “You think so?”
“Oh yeah. Take this card and debit it. That will speed things up.”
“Thanks, baby. I’ll pick up the other stuff then cruise back and pick up the truck.”
“Anything I can do? I’m not happy that you’re doing this by yourself,” I said.
“My job is to protect you, and that’s what I’m doing,” he snapped. “If you want to be useful, see if you can find my Kevlar. It’s in one of the closets.”
If I want to be useful? Fuck off, Jackson.
I watched him drive away in the rental car, then called a cab to take me to the hospital. I stood fuming on the front step and waited.
BILLY’S AQUA EYES were open and focused on the cops in his room. Officers Rodriguez and Johnston peppered him with questions and Billy mumbled garbled answers. They both wrote in their notebooks and nodded as if they understood.
“All finished, Officers?” I asked, hoping they would leave Billy in peace.
“We’re finished for today. Heard they found your vehicle in Idaho,” said Rodriguez.
“Abandoned in a shopping mall, no sign of Stan,” I said. “I’m sure you asked the Boise PD if there had been any boosted vehicles in that area.”
He nodded. “They are checking into that, Mrs. Talbot. They know how to do their job.”
I raised my eyebrows having volumes to expound on that subject, but held my tongue.
“Forensics will be working on your Hummer for the next couple of days. They’ll let you know when they’re finished with it.”
“Thank you. I have a rental.” I sat down on the side of the bed and held Billy’s hand. I stroked his blond curls. “How are you, baby?” I asked.
“Better,” he mumbled.
He couldn’t talk without causing himself a lot of pain, so I sat and held him in my arms. My eyes welled up. I had so much guilt from what had happened to him. I had to make Stan pay for this. “Did you shoot at Stan?”
He shook his head no. “Angel.” It came out ‘angle’, but I knew what he meant.
“Angel, bit him? Good.” I nodded. “We saw the blood in the garage.” I got Billy fresh water and helped him drink through a straw. After feeding him a dish of green Jell-O, I kissed his forehead and left.
Jackson hadn’t yet returned to the house when I got back, but the feds were there, sitting in their black Crown Vic in the driveway. They jumped out like vultures on road kill when they saw me step out of the cab.
“Agent Wolinski,” I said as sweetly as I could manage, “What can I do for you?”
“Need to ask you a few questions, Mrs. Talbot. May we come in?”
“Of course, I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee and we can talk.” I nodded to Agent Connor and unlocked the door. I showed them into the living room, started the coffee and texted Jackson not to bring any of his purchases into the house when he came home. He confirmed, and I took a seat opposite the agents.
Agent Connor started, “Could you start at the beginning and go over what happened here while you were in Toronto?”
“The question in itself is erroneous, don’t you think? We weren’t here, so we don’t know what happened. The only one who knows is Billy, and he can’t tell us yet,” I said. “Has there been any trace of Stan Traynor after Boise?”
“No, nothing yet, but all branches of law enforcement are on the lookout for him. It won’t be long,” said Wolinski.
I nodded. “Why are you really here, Agent? You must have copies of everything that went down here. What do you want from me?”
Wolinski stared hard at me and I didn’t feel any love between us. “I need your assurance that you won’t interfere with my investigation, Mrs. Talbot,” he said. “I know you’re very protective of your husband. I’ve seen evidence of it in the past.”
“You have my word, Agent Wolinski, I will not interfere with your case in any way.”
“There are severe penalties for hampering a Federal investigation,” said Agent Connor. She rarely spoke, usually letting Wolinski dominate the conversation.
“I’m sure there are,” I said, getting the coffee from the kitchen. Jackson came into the kitchen from the garage and I added another mug to my tray.
“Mr. Traynor, nice to see you looking well again,” Wolinski held out his hand. Jackson shook his hand and sat down beside me. I handed him a coffee.
“And where have you been today, Mr. Traynor?” Agent Connor asked.
“Buying a truck—ours is going to be impounded for a while and we need a second vehicle,” he said, staring into his coffee. “Billy’s in the hospital,” he added, thinking out loud.
“We’ve questioned him, but he’s not remembering any details clearly yet. The doctor says it will come back to him slowly after the head trauma he suffered,” said Connor.
“Hate to rush you, Agents, but I have to make my husband something to eat before he goes to the hospital.” I stood up and took the coffee tray to the kitchen. I opened the fridge and started making lunch, hoping they would leave.
Jackson walked them to the door, shook their hands and showed them out. He stared out the window as the sedan departed. “Why were they here again?”
“Snooping around. We had nothing new to add to what they already knew. Definitely a fishing trip.”
“I got the stuff I needed, baby, but I’m not happy leaving you here by yourself. I’m scared out of my fuckin mind that something bad will happen to you while I’m gone.” He held me in his arms and buried his face in my hair. “I hope you won’t be mad at me, baby…but…”
I raised my eyebrows wondering what he had done.
“I talked to Race.”
“Uh huh.” Could be worse. I brushed it off. “Let’s take a look at what you got.” I headed out to the garage.
“The truck is dark blue. The dealership didn’t have one on the lot in black with the Viper motor. Race and the local boys put a scanner in for me. Some nice guys in that club,” he said. “I hid the rifle, in case the Feds came out and looked at the new truck.”
I nodded. “I noticed Race wears the ‘P’. What club is it?”
“The Rule.”
Why would the president of ‘The Rule’ owe Jackson a favor?
Jackson pulled the rifle out of the locked storage bin where he had stashed it and showed me. “Look through the scope and see what you think. It has a bi-pod, but I don’t think I’ll have time for that. I’ve got gloves in the truck in case I need to fire it. That thing can get fuckin hot.”
“Did you try it?”
Jackson nodded.
“It’s all good. I found your vest and I’m packing a few things for you in a duffel. Before you go I need to see you in the bedroom.” I rubbed my hand down his leg and kissed him.
He grinned. “I’m right behind you, baby.”
I threw a change of clothes into a bag with the toiletries he needed, then packed the ammo into a smaller bag. I stripped off my clothes and lay naked on the bed until Jackson came in from the garage. We hadn’t made love in a couple of days and I needed him before he left.
He laughed when he came through the bedroom door. “I guess you’re ready.”
I pulled him down onto the bed and undressed him slowly, kissing him from the neck on down. His shoulders and his abs were tight with tension. As I made my way lower, his muscles relaxed a little as his breathing increased. His skin was hot as he rolled on top of me. He thrust his erection deep inside of me with a grunt and it took my breath away. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer. Jackson made love to me like it might be the last time, and I was on the same wavelength. “Show me what you’re made of, baby,” I whispered as he swelled inside of me and brought me with him.
“I love you, Annie.”
We showered together afterward, and Jackson dressed for his trip. He struggled into his shoulder holster, loaded his SW and put it in place. With a ball cap on and his faded denim jacket covering the harness, we loaded the cab of the truck. He spent a few minutes demonstrating how to operate the police scanner, told me about the software and showed me how to find the frequencies in the guide. He tuned the scanner to the band he thought would be most useful before he got in the truck.
As Jackson backed the new truck out of the garage a big black Harley rumbled in the driveway. Race booted the kickstand down, nodded to Jackson and sat on the bike.
“If I can’t find any trace of Stan, I’ll be back soon. I’ll text you and tell you everything that’s happening. If Billy asks where I am, tell him I’ve gone to give Stan payback for what he did to him.”
“Please be careful, Jackson. I don’t want to lose you.”
Jackson hugged me close to him and kissed me. “I have to do it, baby. It’s the only way I’ll have any peace.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
JACKSON BACKED OUT of the driveway in the new truck and gave Annie a wave. She leaned on the doorway looking dejected and miserable and Jackson sucked in a breath. He had been miserable to live with lately, between the club going to the Dogs, literally, and thoughts of his old man clouding his head, he could see why she was on edge. He pointed the spunky Ram in the direction of highway fifteen north and twenty minutes later when he veered onto ninety-three he let the Viper engine whine. Civilization and the glitz of Vegas waned rapidly as the truck streaked north through the black night towards Idaho.
Stan could have crossed into Canada by now, or he could have holed up. The cops hadn’t found him yet, but maybe he could find him by thinking the way his father did. After all, he was his father’s son and had been raised in a gang. He should be able to figure Stan out and stay one step ahead. The old man had been unsuccessful sneaking over the border into Mexico and had made his way back to Vegas. He had to know that all the border crossings into Canada would be on alert, and his chances of being caught in Canada were far greater than in the US.
Jackson was a hundred and fifty miles north of Vegas when he figured it out. He slammed on the brakes, screeched the tires and searched for a spot to cross the median to the southbound lanes. When the headlights rested on an area that looked almost level, he checked for traffic, flipped into four-wheel drive and bounced through the grass. He steered the Ram into a southbound lane and punched the gas to the floor. His theory was, Stan had stolen the Hummer and left it in Boise where it could be easily found to convince the cops he was headed north. It had fooled them and it had almost fooled Jackson.
He groped on the seat beside him and called Annie. “I’ll be home in an hour. I think Stan doubled back to Vegas. Just a guess, but tell Race, wear your holster and be on the lookout.”
She heaved a sigh. “Thank God you’re coming back. I’m going out of my fuckin mind.”
“Call Wolinski and have him send people over to stay with you, baby. Do it now and call me right back. I want some protection for you until I get back.”
His phone rang a couple minutes later.
“He didn’t agree with our thinking,” said Annie. “The bureau still thinks he’s headed north. The best they can do is assign an hourly patrol past the house, but don’t worry—Race is here.”
“Fuck them to hell and back,” hollered Jackson and punched the gas.
A GRAY DAWN streaked with pink and gold was silently breaking over a sleeping Vegas when Jackson pulled the Ram into the driveway. Through the mist of early morning, the house appeared quiet and undisturbed. The neighborhood was still. No activity. No wind. Tall palm trees guarding each house like sentinels. He let out a breath and relaxed a little.
After locking the truck in the garage, he tip-toed into the kitchen, quieted Angel and filled her empty bowl with kibbles. Race lay on the sofa awake with his gun beside him. Jackson nodded as he passed and peeked in at Annie sleeping peacefully in the bedroom. He opened a beer, made sure the SW had a slug in the chamber, then retreated to the garage.
Slouched in the truck with the door open, he listened to the police scanner. Five-oh-three on Flamingo Drive—auto theft. Any stolen vehicle report could be Stan. Two-eleven at a liquor store on Desert Inn Road—robbery. Any robbery could be Stan. He was making himself crazy thinking all of the police calls were related to that bastard. He cursed and switched it off.
On the kitchen counter, he silently set up the rifle with the night scope. Stan wouldn’t come in the daylight. He would wait until tonight. He slipped into bed beside Port
ia, snuggled up to her warm body and slept like the dead.
I WOKE TO find Jackson cuddling me in his arms and kissing me. “Annie, I almost died a thousand times while you were here alone, wondering if some terrible fuckin thing was happening. I can’t stand it when were apart. I just can’t.” He buried his face in my hair and wouldn’t let go of me.
“Race was here and he’s vigilant. He would never back down from anyone. We won’t be apart, Jackson. I promise. I’ll go where you go.”
After letting Angel out, I ambled back, sat on the side of the bed and talked to him. “I’m sure Stan has some kind of perverted plan to make a run for me. Why else would he risk coming back here? He has my money. If he had any sense he would hole up and live off the half mil in the back woods somewhere. He’s pissed at me and he’s not going to let it rest. I can feel it.”
The hair on the back of my neck had been prickling me since Jackson figured out the Hummer trick he tried to pull. “It’s working on the feds, but it’s not working on me. I feel that fucker lurking. George said he could always feel it when some asshole was trying to kill him, and he was right. You can feel it.”
Jackson said nothing in response. His silence was eerie. He got up and made coffee, while I took a shower.
After breakfast, Race took his leave and I walked him out to his bike.
“Can I text you?” I asked and he nodded. A man of few words.
Back in the kitchen, I cleared up the dishes while Jackson sat at the island staring into space.
“We can’t sleep tonight, sugar. I told Wolinski that Stan was doubling back, but he didn’t believe me. The feds are convinced that he’s making a run for the Canadian border and I think they’re dead wrong. You called it.”
“With him running around, I can’t think clearly at all. That’s the problem—the same problem I’ve had since my mother died. I would always make a plan for what I would do the next time he started beating on me, and then once it happened, I gave up like I always did. It’s some kind of a fuckin brain pattern you can’t break.” He hung his head.