by Kat Catesby
“Don’t flatter yourself. I need to discuss a business proposal with your father,” he says spitefully.
It hurts.
…So much more than I care to admit, and if I stay here a moment longer, he’ll know it from the pathetic tears I’m dangerously close to shedding.
I turn away from him and head for the door, but he grabs me again, more forcefully than I was expecting, which sends me off balance and stumbling backward into him.
His arms form a steel cage around me as he holds me against his solid chest to stabilize me. My breath catches and my body desperately wants to melt into his touch, but it’s not an option when he hates me this much.
I can’t look at him, I refuse to feel the warmth of his body seeping into mine, and soon as I’m surefooted enough I step away from him and put some much-needed distance between us.
Jackson keeps hold of my arm so that I don’t try to walk away again, his grip tight but restrained; I know the only way he’s going to release me is to hear him out or fight my way free. Given my options, I decide against the latter and wait for him to speak with my arms crossed, his fingers still gripping my bare skin.
“I need to know your involvement in Astor.”
And, we’re out of here.
I’m over this conversation and immediately try to snatch my arm free.
“Tell me about Astor, Emilia,” he shouts.
“Why?” I plead, heartbroken, hurt and terrified; the Astor mission haunts me more than thoughts of Jackson do.
“Because I had to bury my cousin and the only explanation for his death was some bullshit story the Corps fabricated,” he yells, his voice dangerous. “I looked into it; the mission report is fabricated to fuck and guess who’s name I saw listed as part of the Corps team involved? Did you kill my cousin?”
Probably, I think to myself and this time I don’t fight the tears that drip from my eyes. “I don’t know who your cousin is, so I don’t know if I’m responsible for his death. Astor was a bloodbath –”
“You’re damn right it was. He was a good man. What kind of crazy, murdering bitch have you become? I don’t recognize the person you’ve become and I’ll forever be grateful for the day you walked out of my life.”
His words feel like a physical blow. I slump against one of the desks nearest me and sob freely as he storms out. Jackson doesn’t give me a chance to explain that his cousin wasn’t a good man at all; his cousin was a monster.
With trembling hands, I open my small clutch and pull out my phone.
Jackson is right, the mission report for Astor is fabricated, but the lie is to protect him and like fuck will I let him damn me for it.
I scroll through my contacts until I find the name I need; Eric Grant – my former Commanding Officer.
Me: I need the file, asap. Someone with connections is snooping and won’t likely stop. Know you’re in town. I’m at the Ember.
Eric: I missed you too! I’m guessing the person in question is Smoak?
Me: Yeah. J’s cousin was there.
Eric: I know. We could do without a man of his means making trouble.
Me: He’s seriously pissed. Just called me a crazy murderer. Not gonna lie, it hurt.
Eric: Be there in ten x
The security guard returns to the room, making me jump.
“I’m afraid you can’t be alone in here,” he nods at all the security monitors.
“I understand,” I sniff and wipe my eyes. “I have someone coming to collect me, would you mind if I waited in here? I can’t go back out there,” I say.
Perhaps my pathetic demeanor tugs at his sympathy, because he reluctantly agrees and takes his seat in front of the screen walls.
I stare at my phone in silence until it buzzes in my hands.
Eric: I’m outside
“Thank you for letting me wait here,” I say to the security guard as I make my way out of the door and back into the bright foyer. I don’t need to look around to know that Jackson is watching me from the ballroom entrance. Why? I’ve no idea, but I can’t bring myself to look at him because right now I want to slam my fist into the straight lines of his face and mess it up.
Tristan catches up to me as I reach the hotel entrance.
“Em, are you all right? Where are you going?”
“I just need five minutes,” I gesture with my hand and walk out into the cool, inky night and find Eric stood next to a limo looking smart in a sharply tailored suit. I feel a stab of guilt for pulling him away from whatever event he was attending, but I have bigger things on my mind.
He opens the door for me and I climb inside, shuffling across the leather seat so he can climb in after me.
Eric is tall and handsome, especially in uniform, with strong features and bright eyes. He’s less gruff and rugged than Tristan, although the two share a similarly muscular, military build, and not as broodingly lethal looking as Jackson. Eric is the happy, uncomplicated middle road. He’s immortal, very easy on the eyes, strong and confident but kind with it; he’d be perfect for me if my heart didn’t belong to a man who hates me.
He looks intently at me.
“We don’t need Jackson Smoak looking into Astor any further. Put it to bed and get him off our backs, before a whole world of hurt falls down on the Avidite population. He’s a well-connected man and it won’t take much for him to unravel the Astor cover. His connection to one of the perpetrators and you are a complication the Corps doesn’t need.”
“Understood.”
He holds a tablet towards me, but just out of reach. “I don’t need to remind you that this is confidential. The consequences of this getting out is the very reason I’m giving you the file in the first place. I’d show it to Mr. Smoak myself, but my presence is needed elsewhere. You aren’t a serving member of the Corps anymore, so this is so fucking unorthodox, but we don’t need Jackson Smoak sounding off conspiracy theories. This tablet doesn’t leave your side, you don’t let it out of your sight, and I will be collecting it from you first thing tomorrow morning,” I nod.
“His cousin?”
“Bryant Hopkins. I looked into it on the way over. We didn’t make the connection before, but they are related. You should know that you didn’t kill him; Bryant Hopkins was one of my targets.”
Bryant Hopkins was a lowlife asshole the world is better off without, still, I can’t help the relief at knowing I wasn’t the one to kill Jackson’s cousin.
“Thank you,” I say.
This information can’t get out or everything we did to protect the Avidites will be for nothing and the first head to roll for exposing the truth will be Eric’s. He’s just put his career in my hands and the gravity of that trust hits me hard.
“We need this buried, Emmy. That being said, it could’ve waited until tomorrow; I’m not one for running out on important dinners when a woman calls. You know I have a soft spot for you so try not to put me too many awkward positions, because I doubt there is much I wouldn’t do for you if you asked.”
This is probably the most romantic thing Eric Grant has ever said to a woman and it makes me feel a little uncomfortable. Not in a creeped-out way – Eric is always a respectful gentleman – but I’m aware that if I said the words, he’d be mine. Problem is, I’m unable to be his.
“You say the sweetest things,” I tease to lighten the mood. “I really am grateful that you came through for me.”
“Always, just get Jackson off our case. You look really beautiful in that dress, by the way.”
I blush self-consciously.
Eric leans in and hands me the tablet before closing the distance and kissing me gently. The feel of his lips is familiar but unwelcome, so I pull quickly away.
“I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t try to do that anymore?”
“I live in hope. Plus, it’s a bit hard not to when you’re dressed like that,” his eyes flash with heat.
I push him away lightly.
“I’m being serious Eric. The Corps lifestyle isn�
�t for me; the Astor mission proved that. Even if my heart wasn’t hung-up on someone else, getting emotionally attached to a man who lives for his job isn’t an option for me. I wouldn’t be able to deal with you constantly disappearing on missions you couldn’t tell me about and always wondering if you’re okay. I’m not the woman for you and if you’re honest with yourself, I think you like the idea of us more than the reality. The fact that you put your job above all else; friends, family, relationships, tells me you’re still not ready to be a relationship guy. And there’s nothing wrong with that as long as you’re not trying to make me fall for you; that scenario ends badly for both of us and I don’t want to lose my friend.”
“You know that if I could, it would be you,” he sighs.
“No, it wouldn’t. I’m already someone else’s…even if it is a fucking shit storm.”
Eric nods thoughtfully. The man has been on my side, saved my life and had my back for years; I hate telling him no. But I’m not going to lie to him and promise him a tomorrow for us that will never exist.
“Your absence is going to be noticed in a minute. I’ll come by first thing tomorrow for the tablet.”
“Okay,” I say and climb out of the limo.
“Good luck, Emmy,” he calls through the open limo door.
I offer him a small smile before turning around and heading back inside.
Tristan is still waiting for me as I walk across the lobby, but the crowds have thinned significantly.
“Everyone has been seated,” he answers my unspoken question. “Are you okay? What did Jackson say to you?”
“Something that will see him permanently on my shit list.”
“Why was Eric outside?”
My parents and Tristan saw Eric on several occasions during their visits to the West Coast.
I pause for a moment to think about how to answer this and settle on honesty – as much as I can, given the confidential nature, but I trust Tristan.
“Jackson called me a murdering bitch because of my involvement in a mission that went badly resulting in his cousin’s death. His cousin was a nasty piece of work, which Jackson is conveniently overlooking. But he’s asking questions and knows the official report is a cover-up. What he doesn’t know is that it was covered up to protect his kind, and now I need to show him the real file to stop him from digging any deeper and unleashing a world of unpleasant problems.”
“That’s about as far from what I was expecting as you can get.”
“Let me guess, you thought it was more relationship drama from our painful little saga,” I say dryly.
“Something like that,” he smiles, leads me into the ballroom and towards our table where everyone is already seated.
My mother is eyeing my empty seat worryingly, while next to her dad is talking to Jackson; just the sight of him makes my blood boil at his hurtful words.
“The medical implications are indeed spectacular and there are other areas of potential development that my company would have a vested interest in developing...” Jackson trails off as I take my seat between Alex and Tristan. Obviously, he thought our conversation would have me running home early.
Not today, Smoak. Not today.
“What sort of ‘potential development’ are you envisioning, Mr. Smoak?” my father asks.
“The technology has positive implications for people, such as me,” he says more quietly than before, conscious that we are in public and he is referring to non-human topics.
I know exactly which project Jackson is referring to; my father acquired a medical research company and one of the more promising projects is synthetic blood. A blood substitute designed for humans who require blood transfusions, given that such a small percentage of people donate blood. Obviously, this research has far-reaching implications for ending Avidite dependency on human blood donations.
“And I have an interest in seeing that its development happens in a way that is considered, in the best interest of my kind and is therefore above reproach and transparent,” Jackson continues. “Honesty and truthful reporting have not been at the forefront with regards to my kind and I want to ensure that we have a fair shot at benefiting from this technology, instead of being sidelined and any potential benefits getting shelved.”
My father nods, looking perplexed at the edge to Jackson’s voice and Alex just looks outright confused, glancing between Jackson and me.
“Mr. Smoak is making a snide remark about the mission report for Astor,” I say as nonchalantly as possible to Alex.
Every pair of eyes are now on me and I’m smug at the sight of Jackson stunned into stillness with his fork halfway to his mouth.
“Mr. Smoak believes the Corps covered up the mission to conceal the murder of his cousin, who he believes I killed.”
“Oh, is that all,” Alex says sarcastically.
I turn my attention to Jackson.
“I’m not sure how willing my family will be to go into business with you when you so recently called me a ‘crazy, murdering bitch’, and as I have some oversight on that project, my opinion matters. Given your automatically low opinion of me, I’m surprised you even want to venture into business with us. Given your attitude and treatment of me this evening, I would happily have very little to do with you,” I say flatly.
“I knew this evening would end badly the minute I saw that seating chart,” my mom says. Dad just looks at Jackson, who looks suitably uncomfortable and won’t take his eyes off me.
“Did he really call you that?” fumes Dee and I nod; Astor was traumatic for everyone who had the misfortune of being in that fight.
“Asshole,” spits Alex through gritted teeth. “If you only knew what that mission put us through.”
“Well thanks to Eric, he will,” I say and place the tablet on the table in front of me. “You wanted answers, Mr. Smoak – not that you waited to hear any after your tirade earlier – you’re in luck. These are the original, unedited files and I’ve been given permission to show you everything that happened that night.”
“Eric willingly handed it over?” asks Dee.
“He doesn’t want Mr. Smoak as an enemy determined to look into things that were covered for the benefit of him and his kind. We all know why the truth can’t get out, but if Jackson keeps tugging on this string, the whole thing will unravel,” I look pointedly at Jackson knowing full well that with his supernatural hearing, he can hear me even though I’ve spoken quietly to Dee.
“We nearly lost Emilia that day; she nearly died to put an end to a fucked-up situation that would have cost you and your pretty girlfriend your freedom. Did you dig up that information?” Alex hisses, his anger palpable. No matter how many times I tell him otherwise, he carries around a small amount of guilt for what happened to me that day.
“I think we should continue this conversation somewhere a little more private. I take it this place has a conference room?” I ask Jackson.
“I think that would be wise, follow me,” he says quietly.
I stand to follow but stop him before he gets very far.
My parents and Tristan are smart enough to realize this isn’t for their ears…Sonya is too stupid to catch on.
“Only you, Jackson,” I say and tilt my chin in her direction. “She doesn’t have clearance.”
Sonya looks pissed…and I wish I could say I was a bigger person and didn’t’ take pleasure from the sour look on her face...but then I’d be lying.
“Seriously?” she huffs. It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak and her voice hasn’t improved over the years; it’s still as grating as always.
She continues to grumble as I walk away; for a second I’m grateful I have a reason to leave her sitting at the table…then I remember what I’m about to face instead.
Chapter Nineteen
Dee, Alex and I silently follow Jackson out of the ballroom, down another polished marble hallway and through a set of imposing dark wood double doors. Inside is a typically executive and somewhat generic confer
ence room – complete with a far too long, dark contemporary table surrounded by oversized leather chairs.
I’m the last to walk in and as I go to close the doors behind me, Jackson pauses at the last minute, puts his hand out to keep the door open, and without saying a word, maneuvers me back out into the hallway. He closes the doors behind him, leaving Dee and Alex inside.
“You nearly died?” his voice is strained.
“You care?” I’d be incredulous but I’m trying very hard to be numb…it’s the only way to relive Astor without falling apart.
He growls quietly and looks like he wants to punch something.
“Perhaps if you did die, your next re-incarnation would be easier to get along with,” he looks horrified the moment the words leave his lips. Somewhere deep inside – really fucking deep – I know he didn’t mean it.
But he’s still an asshole.
I clench my fists together to stop myself from slapping his stupidly gorgeous face.
“I sincerely doubt it, not if she has any memories of this life. She wouldn’t give you an easier time if she remembers you wishing me dead and all the cruel things you said to me this evening. Not to mention the ultimatum you issued, which you then spent six years sulking over because you didn’t get your own way. I didn’t leave you; I chose a job that gave me the freedom to learn who I was this time around and you could’ve come with me or split your time between the East and West Coast, but you didn’t. You lost your temper – which you seem to do a lot with me – and broke us before we even started. I never stopped caring and it never stopped hurting, and the horrible things you accused me of this evening cut deep because everything I did was to protect you. So you’re going to sit in that room, read the report, look at the gruesome pictures, watch the video footage, and when you’re finished, you’ll learn there isn’t enough groveling in the world to take back the hurt you’ve caused.” I just about manage not to cry, but it’s a close one. Jackson’s face is remorseful, pained, his indigo eyes mirroring the heartbreak in my own at our situation.