by Nic Saint
He remembered Chloe keenly, and only now recognized in her the girl he’d met all those years ago. He’d had a bit of a crush on her back then, but obviously things hadn’t worked out, Harlan and Jack soon standing with daggers drawn.
And now the war had landed on his doorstep. Soon Ty would be here, and he knew his big brother was bad news. Very bad news indeed.
He eyed Roland curiously. At least this man hadn’t changed since he’d seen him last. More lines around the eyes perhaps, and an even harsher slant to his mouth. Roland had always been a hard man, and last time they met had been a defining moment for Jackson, though he’d never divulged this to anyone, certainly not his own family.
First things first, however. He had to get Chloe to safety. With Ty in town, she was in imminent danger. His brother wouldn’t hesitate to alternatively use her as bait or a mere pawn in the never-ending feud between their fathers. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
He contemplated briefly to allow Roland to take Chloe home, as he’d demanded. She’d be safe there, he knew, the sanctity of the estates one of the few rules both patriarchs abided by. But then he’d never see her again. There was no way Jack Thornton would ever allow him to put a foot inside his house.
There was only one solution: he had to lay it all out for Chloe and let her decide.
He walked over to Roland and took a firm grip on the man’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Roland jerked his arm free. “Where are you taking me, Montesquieu scum?”
Jackson smirked. “I see you haven’t lost that easy charm and winning personality, huh, Ro? I’m taking you back to my place. We’re going to talk to Chloe. After all, she’s the one who’s affected by all this nonsense and she’s the one who gets to decide what happens next.”
Roland eyed him wearily. “You harm one hair on her head, and I swear—”
He accosted the man. “I love her, you idiot! I would never harm her!”
Roland’s eyes first widened with surprise at this outburst, then narrowed with suspicion. “I don’t believe you.”
Without another word, he steered Roland to the door and onto the street to his parked police vehicle. He opened the passenger door and took a firm grip on Roland’s head and pushed him down and into the car, giving him perhaps a bit more shove than strictly necessary. Somehow, the gesture gave him great satisfaction. Almost as much as watching Roland’s face turn into a mask of anger at the harsh treatment.
Then he quickly made his way to the other side and stepped inside. Time was of the essence, he knew. If Roland was here, Ty wasn’t far behind. It had always been like that with those two, and it seemed nothing had changed. Only he had.
The engine roared to life and the car screeched away from the curb.
For a moment, neither man spoke, then Roland said in a low voice, “Last time we met you were an addict, Jackson, and a petty dealer. I busted you and told you to clean up your act. Don’t tell me you actually took that advice.”
“I know you don’t believe me, Ro, so save your breath already, will you?”
Roland slowly turned his head, his eyes fixed on the police chief. “People don’t change, Jackson. They think they can, but they never do.”
“I did.”
“Bullshit,” Roland challenged.
Jackson’s face was grim. “Believe whatever you want. Right now we need to get to Chloe before my brother does.”
Roland returned his gaze to the windshield and gave the town’s Main Street his best thousand yard stare, his eyes cold and hard. “At least we agree on that.”
Chapter 13
“I don’t think you appreciate my point, dickhead,” Roland was saying.
“Chief Dickhead to you,” returned Jackson as he stomped his foot down on the accelerator and roared through town. He didn’t remember when he’d last used his police lights and siren and he could see the confused expressions of the townsfolk as he raced past, wondering what the emergency was.
“Chloe isn’t safe here. You can’t protect her from your brother. You know that.”
“I’m the chief of police, in case you hadn’t noticed. I can protect Chloe perfectly from anyone.”
“Not from Ty you can’t.”
Jackson’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel when he thought of his big brother Tyler. He was probably the only one who’d ever called him that, and the only one who’d never been afraid of the man now widely feared and respected. Even as boys together Ty had always been the one who had to take any dare to extremes. And not infrequently to new heights of cruelty. If dared to climb a tree and steal a bird’s egg, he would vault that tree, send all the eggs crashing down to the ground, destroy the nest and kill any chicks he found.
And then Jackson, who was only one year his junior, would try to mimic his big brother by following in his footsteps. But of course he couldn’t. No one was as ruthless and brutal as Tyler. If he hadn’t been Harlan’s son, he would probably have ended up a hit man for the mob. Thanks to their father, he’d landed an even better deal: he could enforce and kill with impunity, and had only met his match in the man now riding shotgun.
He glanced over to Roland. “I would have thought either one of you would have killed the other by now. Why is that you’re both still amongst the living?”
Roland’s lips tightened. “You forgot about the code.”
Jackson groaned. Of course. The code. No Thorntons ever killed a Montesquieu and vice versa. “Harlan and Jack,” he muttered. “They would have made great Mafia dons, those two. Don Thornton and Don de Montesquieu.”
Roland’s head slowly turned to him. “Are you calling my father a mobster? Only Harlan is capable of that kind of evil, and you would know that if you weren’t his son. Jack has never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
“Yeah, right. Your dad’s a saint and mine’s Satan incarnate. Of course.”
“Jack’s not the one who’s bringing dope into the country. You know as well as I do that HdM is only a front for his criminal operations. If it weren’t for Harlan’s powerful friends, he’d be rotting in jail right now.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d had this kind of conversation. When he’d broken all ties, Harlan had washed his hands of him, disowning him. And he’d been glad. He’d changed his name, moved to Alaska and started a new life. And now, just when things were finally going well, his past had finally caught up with him.
He barreled through a red light, only narrowly missing a pickup that was bearing down on them from a side street. Only one thing mattered now, and that was Chloe. He couldn’t see her come to harm because of his past. He simply wouldn’t be able to live it down.
Suddenly he felt Roland’s eyes on him. “What?” he said without looking up.
“You really care about my sister, Jackson?”
“Let’s not discuss the matter any further, Roland. What’s the use? You don’t believe me and I can’t blame you. Let’s just get there before Ty does.”
Roland rested back in his seat, then held out his still handcuffed hands. “Get rid of these for me, will you? I fight better without them.”
For a brief moment, Jackson hesitated, then he relented and with a flick of the wrist released Roland from the manacles. “How are we going to do this?”
“I suggest we get Chloe out of there and take her to safety. Ty will know where you live.”
“Right. Of course he does.” On the boat he’d had the impression he was being watched, his policeman’s instincts alerting him of the fact, and it had occurred to him his family might still keep tabs on him after all these years. Which was why he hadn’t wanted to kiss Chloe in public or takes matters further than mere friendship. To protect her from that kind of scrutiny. But perhaps they’d been following her instead.
“Do you have a place where she’ll be safe?”
He briefly nodded. “I do.”
“Then let’s get her there as quickly as possible. You were right before. Chloe will hav
e her say in this.” Once again, he felt Roland’s intent gaze on him. “If you really care for her like you say you do, you will respect her decision, Jackson. Even if it means she’s returning to the mainland with me.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Roland gave him a wry smile. “If she doesn’t, you better make sure your father calls of the dogs. Or else I will be forced to break the code for Chloe’s sake.”
“You would kill my brother?”
“I would. In a heartbeat.”
Jackson nodded. Roland was right. If killing Ty was the only way to protect Chloe, it had to be done. The man was a rabid dog. “And what about my father? If you kill Ty, he won’t rest until you’re dead.”
“Didn’t you know? Harlan’s days are numbered. The noose is tightening and soon he won’t be able to harm anyone anymore. That’s why he’s so desperate to get his hands on Chloe. This is his last chance before the bell tolls.”
Jackson shook his head. “No, I didn’t know. Like I said, I haven’t been in touch with my family in years. Nor do I wish to.”
The two men were silent for a beat, as the car hurtled down the road at top speed, the siren whining and the red-and-blue flashing. Then Roland spoke again. “You know? Maybe I was wrong about you, Jackson. Maybe you have changed. But if you haven’t and this is all some kind of elaborate game? I’ll snap your neck too.”
Jackson leveled a stony look at the other man. “Not if I snap yours first.”
Chapter 14
Chloe flitted from room to room, feeling happier than she had in a very long time. She’d been lounging out on the terrace, reading a book, but now she simply couldn’t sit still any longer, and she decided to explore the house. Jackson had told her he’d done all the decorating himself and he knew it sucked big time, so could she have a look-see and make suggestions for improvements?
She knew it was a test of sorts. He wanted to see what she’d suggest and then he could apply her ideas to some of the projects he was working on.
He’d assured her he’d be home before lunch, as the chief of police position he held in the small town really only occupied a small portion of his working day. In the afternoon they could drive out to one of the sites he was supervising and she could perhaps give him some pointers.
She loved the casual way he went about his work. To Jackson life was easy and the rat race the furthest thing from his mind. Compared to the hustle and bustle of New York, this really was laid back land and she absolutely loved it.
He’d briefly expressed his concern she’d find his way of life dull and boring, but she’d told him dull and boring were underrated in her opinion.
She began with the upstairs bedroom. Like the rest of the house, Jackson had gone in for understated rusticity. Bare plaster walls, wood beam ceilings, terra cotta floors and settler furniture were mainstays in the house, as they were in this room. Dark tones predominated and to her it seemed rather on the gloomy side and could definitely use some brightening up.
If it were up to her—and she realized it actually was!—she would introduce a lighter color scheme throughout the place. Airy white linen curtains, effervescent yellow wallpaper, gleaming hardwood floors in all the rooms except the kitchen, playful rugs scattered throughout… And lights. Jackson seemed to have a penchant for black iron chandeliers that emitted little light and reminded her of the middle ages in look and feel. They would have to go, she decided, and make way for playful fixtures with LED lamps. Warm, bright and environmentally sound.
And as she was stepping into the spare bedroom, she heard a car pull up outside and her heart rejoiced. True to his word, Jackson was home already. She made a final note on the clipboard she’d been carrying. The furniture, all dark varnish and screaming ancient times, would have to be chemically stripped, sanded and get a natural coat.
With a light heart, she flitted down the staircase to throw open the door and fling herself in Jackson’s arms the moment he ambled up the garden path.
She hopped from the last step and raced to the door to beat Jackson, then swung the door wide, her face happy and bright.
The sight that met her eyes was like a punch to the gut and she blinked in horrified astonishment. A tall, dark man, head cleanly shaven and wicked smile playing about his thin lips, stood before her.
“Hello, Chloe.” He held out his hands and smirked. “Surprise.”
“Ty! What-what—” she stammered, staggering back as if struck.
He cocked his head. “What? Not happy to see me? I’m disappointed.”
“You can’t be here…” she said, eyes wide.
He quickly stepped inside and grasped her wrist in an iron grip. “And yet I am.” He quickly propelled her into the living room and flung her onto the couch, then pinned her down easily by pressing his knee into her stomach.
Tears sprang into her eyes. “You-you’re hurting me!”
“And I’ll hurt you a lot more if you don’t do as I say.” He’d produced a knife and was pressing it against her throat. “A little bird told me you’re getting married to my brother. Is that right?”
“What? No! Of course not!”
His jaw worked, and he pressed his knee deeper into her stomach. “Don’t lie to me, bitch! You hooked up with Jackson, didn’t you?”
“J-Jackson?” Suddenly the horrible truth dawned on her. “Jackson’s your brother?”
“As if you didn’t know,” he scoffed. “Who set this up? Your dad? Roland? I bet it was Roland. He’s always been the smart one. He probably thought you’d get away with it, too. Marrying into the Montesquieu family and forcing our hand. Nice move, bitch, but not smart enough. You see, Jackson’s by way of being the black sheep in the family, isn’t he?”
She thrashed wildly, the truth of Jackson’s betrayal only now hitting home. He’d seduced her—had known from the start who she really was. It was a ruse—a ploy! Tears freely streamed down her face as she realized how he’d played her—betrayed her.
“No, if you’re going to marry into my family you should do it the right way.” He abruptly released her and her body went limp, desperate sobs racking her chest, her throat constricted. A cruel grimace twisted Ty’s familiar features, and he pointed the knife to himself. “I’m the one you’ll marry, honey. Not that loser brother of mine. You’re mine—my bride!”
“No!” she hollered, suddenly finding her voice. “Never!”
The vicious slap stunned her, and suddenly his hands were on her chest, grasping wildly at her tender tits, and then his mouth was on hers, taking what he wanted with absolute disregard for her frantically expressed objections. He shoved his tongue between her lips and found hers and before she could react he’d pressed her down onto the couch with his strong body, pinning her arms over her head with one hand while the other grabbed her tit hard and squeezed it tight.
Then suddenly he released her, and he stared down triumphantly. “Once we’re married I’ll see to it you give me the love and devotion I deserve. For now, though, this will suffice.” He grinned viciously, and pulled her to her feet. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here before that asshole brother of mine returns. He never did know the difference between mine and thine. And you, my dear, are most definitely mine.”
Finally screwing up her resolve, she spat in his face. “Never!” she hollered, and the slap that followed had her gasping for breath, her lip split and the taste of blood splashing into her mouth.
“I see you have a lot to learn,” he growled, grabbing her by the shoulder and shoving her out in front of him. “But not to worry. We have time. Plenty of time.”
And with those words, he simply picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, then set foot for the door and out to his car. And before she could come to her senses, he’d flung her in the trunk of his car and had slammed the lid shut over her head, darkness descending upon her and cutting off her final scream.
Chapter 15
The car screeched to a stop outside Jackson’s house and the two men s
prang out, racing for the front door, which was ajar. Jackson had a bad feeling about this, a tightness in his gut that told him something had gone terribly wrong.
He threw wide the door and stormed in. “Chloe!” he hollered. “Chloe!”
When no response came, he jogged down the length of the living room to the sliding window and yanked it open, stepping onto the terrace and scanning the garden. Nothing. Dammit!
“She’s not here,” Roland’s voice announced behind him. He stood wide-legged, hands on his hips. “Could she have gone out?”
Jackson had been trying her cell at intervals ever since they’d left the station, and as he tried it again now, he thought he heard it vibrate somewhere nearby. Roland reached the smartphone first. It had skittered underneath the couch and he retrieved it quickly. “Ten missed calls.” He looked up, and Jackson thought he’d never seen the other man this vulnerable. “She’s gone.”
The conclusion was the only logical one, and even though Jackson’s police brain agreed, he still fought its ramifications. He raked his hands through his hair. “Maybe she just went for a walk?” he tried.
Roland shook his head slowly. “You know she hasn’t. Chloe would never leave her cell phone. She’s addicted to that thing. Checks her emails and Facebook status about a hundred times a day.” He sank his large body onto the couch, Chloe’s phone still in hand. “She’s gone, Jackson. Ty must have gotten to her first.” He kicked out his foot in rage, toppling the salon table and sending several copies of ‘Better Homes and Gardens’ flying. Jackson had bought them for Chloe and watched them sail through the air as his stomach made somersaults and terror seeped into his mind and heart.
Ty.
He’d taken Chloe.
He closed his eyes in agony, then his police brain took over again, and he frantically stabbed at his own phone. When the familiar voice sounded over the speaker, he barked, “Beverley. Someone kidnapped Chloe just now. Set up roadblocks on all the access roads leading to my place. Call in as many guys as you can.”