“No.” He leaned in closer. “But wouldn’t you like to?”
I scoffed, turning. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“We’re not.” A second voice filled the air, and another man stepped in. This man was worse than the first. He ogled me openly, and his eyes were so wide and protruding that I thought they might fall out of his head.
His bug-eyed appearance was natural, in-borne, but there was nothing natural about the dirty look in his eyes. He looked at me as if he wanted to own me, and I despised him on sight.
Greasy black hair fell into his face. He sounded nothing like the Brit to his left.
“God, you’re a fuck on a stick.” His gaze perused me. “You got a name, gorgeous?”
I threw daggers with my eyes, stabbing the two gawkers with a deadly stare.
“No,” I answered simply.
“I don’t mind,” the American creep piped back. “I can give you one.”
“How about ‘Fuck Off’?” I cocked an eyebrow, crossing my arms. The liquor was making me even more belligerent. Not good.
“You see,” I continued, stepping closer. My walk became a sway. “I don’t mind being a woman without a name. Looks like you wouldn’t mind being a man without a pair of balls. Keep talking to me like that… and you’ll experience just what that feels like.”
Greasy Hair’s eyes narrowed. I could see that it took him several seconds to get it, but I underestimated his stupidity. It took the bloody Brit even longer to figure it out.
The drunken foreigner gaped at me, disbelieving.
“You mean… you’re not going to give us a dance?”
I snorted, nearly laughing. “That’s right, boys.” I shrugged. “Not in this fucking lifetime.”
Prick number two was the first to react.
“Well, then how about the next?”
His hand shot out. He grabbed my wrist tightly, and his hold was so brutal that it was almost bruising. I looked down at the space between his legs, getting ready to make good on my promise. I took a step back, preparing to swing a knee.
But then a third hand appeared and crushingly grabbed his.
“The only one who’ll be seeing the next lifetime any time soon will be you if you don’t get your fucking hands off of her.”
Nothing could have prepared me for this. This anger, this heat, this wrath. The air was singeing with it, and with every gulp I took, I inhaled a breath that seemed wrapped in flames.
It was him. Everything about him.
The fire within him shone through his eyes, and I sensed the heat under his tanned skin, along his darkly scruffed jawline, beneath his dirty blond hair.
Jackson.
Jackson was here, dressed entirely in black… and he was darkly enraged.
He snapped back the greaseball’s fingers as if they were twigs. His icy blue eyes stared into the yelping man’s face as if they could kill.
“Now,” he rumbled as the man screamed in pain between the beats of the music. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself, or I’ll make sure you never take another breath.”
“Who the hell are you?” The gritty Brit stepped up to Jackson. “You slimy bastard. You think you can just do this shit and get away with…”
Crack!
Jackson used his free hand to send a fist smashing into the brown-haired Brit’s nose. The foul-mouthed prick who’d been hitting on me went flying sideways and as soon as he did, the flame that was within Jackson spread like a wildfire.
All crazy, masculine-driven, no-holds-barred Hell broke loose.
Mr. Greasy Fingers took a swing at Jackson, totally missing him, and connected with the man behind him, knocking the unsuspecting stranger onto a bar table that hit the floor with a muffled and heavy thud.
The weight of the wooden tabletop had been muted by the impact of the bodies beneath it, screams following as the bulky oak came down and took several patrons with it.
Several recovered immediately. Others did not. But they were all incensed and within seconds, their focus was on Jackson and the motley crew around him. Curse words flew. Drinks sailed across the bar. And testosterone from every corner of the cozy little tavern went for Jackson with fists balled and ready to throw.
He looked directly into my face, his blue eyes shining.
“Get the hell outta here, Pea.”
I stared back. “No.”
His eyes widened, and before he could speak, five digits came barreling at his head. They barely missed, as Jackson sidestepped quickly, sending a swift elbow into the man’s throat, causing a cringe-worthy crunch to travel through the air.
I winced, waiting for the next blow from an angry stranger to hit my face. But I forgot to watch my back.
I’d lost Sienna among the bar crowd, and my eyes couldn’t pick her face out of the throngs, but soon, it didn’t matter. I was being picked up, lifted up from behind and carried off the floor before I knew what was happening.
Solid fingers, warm and steady, wrapped around half of my face, and I kicked as my feet left the ground, my body being half-dragged away from the enveloping chaos that had swallowed Jackson whole.
I couldn’t even see him anymore amidst the brawlers.
Maybe I didn’t want to. But I sure as hell knew I didn’t want whatever was happening at that moment. I clawed at the wall of human flesh that was squeezing around me.
“Stop it,” a masculine voice growled in my ear. “Cut it out, or I will put you to sleep and then drag you away.”
My flailing bones froze. My body went limp.
And the strange man continued carting me off, backpedaling until we reached a door that swung open and revealed shoddy, white sinks and toilets inside. I closed my eyes, letting him think he’d won. But as soon as he released me, I knew I would try to gouge his eyes out from their sockets.
I waited. Calmer than seconds before, breathing through reddened nostrils that quivered with angry fear. Another second passed by, and my feet finally touched the ground.
I tried to turn.
But out of nowhere, she pounced.
She seemed to be everywhere. Limbs flailing. Fists hurling. Climbing. Clamoring.
Brown waves of hair went flying as she beat at the man at my back, wailing on him, her balled fist crashing against the side of his face and neck.
She was on him, all over him, her body literally draped across his back, attacking with everything she had.
I got away, stumbling backwards, separating myself from the rumble between the two when it occurred to me who it was that was “spider-monkeying” all over my assailant’s body.
“Pendejo!” she screeched at him. “Asshole! Voy a matarte!”
“I’m not—I’m not going to hurt you,” the man hissed suddenly. “Goddammit. Fuck Jackson! Fuck him for ever getting me involved in this.”
He finally wrestled the woman from his back, subduing her. She started to kick and scream but as soon as she saw the surprise on my face, she yielded, going limp in his arms.
My aggressor's nose was red, starting to bleed, and if I hadn’t put up a hand to stop her, I’m pretty sure my secretary would have head-butted him into unconsciousness.
The beaten man inhaled sharply.
“You nearly scratched my skin down to the bone.”
He touched his hand to his lightly bloodied mouth, glancing down at it. He released Sienna, and she spun on him, hand raised, until I grabbed her quickly by the arm.
I cautiously let her go, staring at the man.
“Jeff?”
Jackson’s younger assistant just winced at me.
He cradled an arm littered with angry red scratches as he pulled on the sleeves of his grey sweater, shoving the thick fabric up to his elbows. With that familiar goofy grin on his face, Jackson’s associate Jeff was fairly easy to underestimate, but his forearms told no lies.
He was strong. Stronger than I’d expected he’d be.
He’d picked me up with ease, and under the bright fluorescent restroom
lights, I could see his true size. Though smaller than Jackson’s, Jeff’s body pressed against mine showed me that it was no less solid.
“Pene… Miss Castalano, what’s going on? I leave for five minutes to go to the bar, I turn around, and everything’s gone to Hell.”
Sienna was in an absolute panic, still huffing as she assessed the teal-eyed man she just climbed like a tree.
Her face was flushed. Her brown doe eyes were questioning, and she was ignoring the auburn wisps of hair that floated around her head. As soon as she caught my eye, she frowned. She looked over my shoulder at Jeff’s blue-green eyes and frowned even more.
She eyed him cautiously, if not downright warily. I admired her brazen balls. Hell, they were much like mine.
I started to relax.
“It’s alright, Sienna. He’s…” I eyed Jeff again despite his growing grin. “A friend.”
And still, somehow, I resigned myself not to trust him all the same.
I backed up, pressing my ass flush against a sink.
“What are you doing here?” I exhaled, glaring at him.
He shrugged, snatching a paper towel from a dispensary.
“Watching you.” He looked at me, pressing the paper towel against the lacerations along his forearm. “And saving you.” He inspected the arm. “Though, you almost make me wish I hadn’t.”
I stared at him, watching his eyes skim me from head to toe. I followed his gaze with my own.
My high heels were scuffed. My sky-blue buttoned shirt was ruffled, and the fabric of my black business skirt had folded like an accordion. There was a bruise developing beneath my wrist, and I knew that my dark red hair was a disheveled mess.
And I didn’t care. At that moment only one thing mattered to me. And it wasn’t the man I was currently looking at. He stepped back, away from me, and I said the one name that was on my mind.
“Jackso…”
The bathroom door came flying open.
“What about Jackson?” a voice thundered.
Jackson burst into the small restroom, his icy eyes fierce, his countenance just as dark as his clothes.
His hands were scraped, his knuckles bleeding. There was a cut above his left eyebrow, and with the look on his face, I was sure I knew the havoc he had just wrought.
And I was drawn to it. I was drawn to him.
He was the southern storm that had swept into a young New York City girl’s life, and just when I thought I was out of the rain, the torrents took me back down.
His aura pulled me in like a tornado without mercy, and when he looked at me with that fire—that blaze that had set my senses simmering at seventeen and burned the hell out of me at twenty-seven—I wanted to surrender everything I was, everything I could be to him.
I wanted to give it all to him—all I’d ever been.
Now looking at him, seeing him bloodied and beaten and heavily breathing, I wanted to go to him… but everything he had ever been, had ever done, prevented me from doing so. I hesitated, looking everywhere but in his eyes.
Sienna was the first to speak. She looked at Jeff.
“What the hell just went on out there?”
Oh, shit. Those guys. I was so busy looking at Jackson that I’d almost forgotten about them.
Senseless bastards. Uncouth as all hell.
I was certain they had gotten exactly what they deserved.
Those disgusting pricks.
The thought was familiar. I looked into Jeff’s nervous eyes and knew what he was thinking. And suddenly everything made sense.
Tonight wasn’t chance. Coincidence had no part to play and serendipity wasn’t at work here. This was all on purpose.
These men were sent here, thrown into my life by some official order, I’m sure. They were just too stupid to do a good job of hiding it.
I should have recognized them immediately. But I hadn’t. Who would have really paid that much attention to their voices? Who would have really connected the disembodied ghosts that had frozen me in fear a week ago with the ones that had looked me in the face tonight?
I hadn’t… and Jackson was the one who had to save me from them again tonight.
God, I wanted to rip my skin off at the thought of them pawing me—the cruel, cruddy bastards.
But what did I expect from the senators own henchmen? What could I expect from the perverted detail that had almost caught Jackson and me just five days ago?
I didn’t want to think about the answer to that question. The answer was too terrifying.
I was a fool to think they hadn’t noticed me. But what did it matter now?
For now, I was headed home. My eyelids were heavy, my feet felt like lead, and when Jackson led me to his Audi, a palace on wheels, I was tired enough to let him.
My body was too sleepy to put up a fight, my mind just too far gone.
And to make matters worse, my tequila was wearing off…
SMOKE AND MIRRORS
PENELOPE
The air-conditioner unit in the window stuttered and buzzed. The leaky motel room sink dripped incessantly, and there was a funny smell emanating from the carpet or the bathroom or... hell, maybe even me.
Bishop was gone. Jackson and I had just made sure of that. I was still covered with a thin layer of dirt from that dusty airport runway, and I had enough grime under my fingernails and streaked throughout my hair to be mistaken as a Woodstock attendee.
And—fuck, I could still feel him on me.
Minutes later, after Jackson removed our cuffs and I unloaded a shit-ton of curses, I still felt as if he was tethered to me.
I wrinkled my nose in the direction of the old motel’s bathroom, afraid to use it, knowing that even if I could wash off the filth, I still wouldn’t be able to get rid of the feel of him.
His fingers skimming my own. The warmth of his skin still washing over mine.
My skin felt raw.
And I couldn’t shake it off.
The weight of the cuff on my wrist, the guilt on my spirit, and the uncertainty clamping down over my chest.
I was worse than I was four years ago. Then, I’d been a rule-breaker. Now? I was a criminal, and there was no more Bishop around to save me. I was on my own.
Worse, actually.
The only person I had to depend on was the one man on whom I never could. And he wasn’t any happier to be around me either, it seemed.
“Lighten up,” he groaned. “Your ass is clenched so tight you could probably whistle Dixie with it.”
I glanced back at him.
“Lighten up?” I scoffed, standing near the front door. “Are you serious? I can’t ‘lighten up’... Lightening up is for people who don’t give a fuck. Lightening up is for people who aren’t scared. Lightening up in this situation is for reckless half-adults like you.”
“Half-adult?” he said, leaning back on the motel bed. “That’s one I’ve never heard. Prick. Bastard. Asshole? Sure, but half-adult? You need to work on your insults, Pea. You’ve got the tone right. But the insult itself?” He sniffed. “Doesn’t really carry a sting…”
“I didn’t mean for it to sting.” I stopped pacing at the front doorway. “I’m just calling it how I see it.”
“And how do you see it, Pea?” He spit the nickname as if it were poison. I bit my lip so hard I thought it might bleed.
“As easy. Easy for you. Everything is easy for you. Someone in the way? Shoot ‘em. Someone disagrees? Kidnap ‘em. You don’t have a serious bone in your body and you think that you can just take what you want when you want. Well, it doesn’t work that way. Not in the real world.”
“Works just fine in my world.”
“Yeah,” I rolled my eyes. “You see how well that worked out for you…”
I regretted the words the instant they came out.
Jackson sat up, and when he did, he hunched over, placing his elbows on the top of his thighs. He looked at me, his blue eyes hard as gems, and though they were beautiful, they were as deadly as daggers
.
I’d hurt him.
I’d hurt him four years ago when I almost ruined both of our lives. I was hurting him again right then.
The pain was so palpable I could touch it. I knew that pain… because I’d felt it myself.
“Thank you, Pea,” he commented bitterly. “But I didn’t get to this place by myself. There were three people involved in that mess four years ago.” He raised three fingers. “Three. And as I recall, you’re the one who started it all, the one who came to me. Technically, that would make you most at fault.” He glared at me. “Don’t ya think?”
He got up, walked to the other side of the room where he turned on the dusty sink’s faucet, placed a cup under the running water and drank it. The water was probably as vile as the rest of the room, but I didn’t even care.
Hell, it could kill him for all I cared.
I searched for something to say. The first words out of my mouth weren’t the prettiest.
“You know, that water is probably toxic shit.”
He drained the cup. “I’m sure I’ve had worse.”
“Right.” I nodded condescendingly. “The military taught you how to handle shit conditions. Well, we civilians like a little less E. Coli in our drinking water.”
He raised an eyebrow, and I could feel my bitterness die on my tongue.
“Look, I’m not trying to be a freakin’ bitch here, alright? I just…” I sighed. “I’m just not you, Jackson. Three hours of dealing with circumstances I’m not used to, and I’ve started to lose my sense of humor. I’m a lawyer, ok? I usually charge people extra for any niceties…”
With that, he turned back towards me, but he was distracted. He unzipped a suitcase, removed a shirt from it, and as my mouth was still in motion, he pulled his shirt from around his neck and tossed it to the side.
His body was ripped. All military-made muscle and sinews as he flung his old cotton t-shirt to the edge of the bed and replaced it with a new one.
He once again covered the hardened abdomen and pecs I just had the pleasure of peeking at, and to be honest, I was sad to see them go.
My mouth was still dry when he said my name.
“So, I suspect it’s in your nature, Penelope.” He shrugged with nonchalance.
Up in Smoke (Kisses and Crimes Book 2) Page 7