One Woman

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “I’m glad you made yourself at home.” His hand settles on my hip, a sizzling branding that does more than light up my body. It has me settling my hand on his chest.

  I’m falling for this man. I’m falling hard, but I can’t ignore what happened tonight with Brody. I yank my hand away and step back from him. He doesn’t move. His eyes watch me, his jaw ticking. “What just happened? No. What happened back in the bedroom that is still happening now?”

  “If any part of you wants revenge on my family through me, I need you to let me go. Like now. I don’t tell people even a little bit of what I told you in that bedroom. I mean I know I told you nothing really, but I let you see how affected I was. I don’t do that.”

  “And I will not betray that trust, Emma.”

  “You don’t understand, Jax. I’m emotionally involved, and that wasn’t my intent. But I am, so if you want revenge, you got it. It’s done, but please let me go now.” I twist away and round the ottoman, walking to the sink and pressing my hands on top of the stone counter. Jax appears behind me, his big body crowding mine, his hands coming down beside mine, his eyes meeting my eyes.

  “Turn around, baby,” he urges softly, “and talk to me.”

  I inhale and twist around, my hands falling to my sides. “When I told you it was just you and me,” he says, “that wasn’t me telling you I wanted a booty call, Emma. That was me telling you that I’m emotionally involved.”

  “Yes, but—”

  His fingers flex where they rest on my neck and he eases me closer. “No but. Nothing that happened tonight changes that. Nothing we find out about the past changes that. We aren’t them,” he repeats. “I don’t know what this is. I damn sure didn’t expect it, but you are the best thing in my life. You make me a better person.”

  “I just met you.”

  “And you already pulled me back from the dark place I’d let myself go.”

  “Because of your brother?”

  “Yes. Because of my brother. I want you in my life. All in, Emma. I am. Are you?”

  Any hesitation would be a lie that defies all that I just said and showed him. And we both have too many lies in our lives right now. “Yes,” I say. “I’m all in.”

  His eyes warm, and he lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it. “Then come to my bed where I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you.”

  A few minutes later, together, with my head on his chest, we just start talking, about everything and anything, and we don’t shy away from family. I tell him about the silly nickname “Bird Dog” and my brother. He tells me about learning to fight by beating up Brody, and the stories of their fights are both gasp-worthy and comical. If he’s trying to humanize Brody, it’s not necessary. I know the man in that tower with me was in pain. I know Jax is in pain. I feel it when he’s talking about his family. I feel this man in so many impossible ways.

  Ways that will either be the best of my life or the worst. I choose right now to believe he will be the best thing that ever happened to me. Because he feels like more than a lover. He feels like a best friend I’m just getting to know. The kind of best friend a girl could fall in love with.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jax…

  Emma’s body eases against mine, her breathing growing steady. I lay there, with her head on my shoulder, me on my back, listening to her breathe. I don’t bring women to my bed. I damn sure don’t lay awake talking to them for two hours that felt like fifteen minutes, because I enjoyed it so damn much. I shared things with Emma about my family, and even after what Brody did to her tonight, she laughed, she smiled, she teased, and she shared her own stories.

  What we didn’t talk about was her near-death experience, which came about in direct relation to Hunter’s death. Nor, did I press her about her fear of being tied up because I know where that leads, damn it to hell, I know where it leads. It leads to her ex, York Waters. It leads to me wanting to kill that bastard. Emma has hell in her background and what does Brody do? He pushed his bitterness on her when she already has her own baggage to deal with, outside of ours. Part of me wants to whisk Emma away to someplace luxurious and give the two of us time to figure us out before we deal with family.

  I start to replay the call I had with her brother after Hunter died, his push to buy the castle from me now that Hunter was gone. Everything about that call had felt wrong, but then I was burning alive with pain and anger over Hunter’s death. I don’t know how objective I really am about Emma’s family. But then, neither was Hunter those last few months. He was secretive and withdrawn. My mind tracks back to two months before he died, to a day that stands out to me and has haunted me for too damn long.

  Pulling the black Jag up to the door of the castle, I hand off the keys to Ross, the rapidly graying doorman who has been with the family since I was a child. A man who most likely knows I bought that car six months ago because it was my father’s car. He loved Jags. He loved black Jags to be specific. And I loved my father.

  “Is he in?” I ask, and of course, I mean Hunter, the man of the castle since our father died. The bastard of a brother who dodged my calls the entire two weeks I was in Europe, pimping our brand.

  “Yes, sir,” Ross replies tightly. “He’s in.”

  In the absence of information is information. When Ross is discreet, there’s a reason for his discretion. His response alone tells me there’s a problem, but I don’t press him. This is how he cares for a sick mother, and I don’t pay his check, though, I gladly would. Hunter inherited. Hunter runs this place. Hunter was always dad’s go-to man.

  “Thanks, Ross,” I say. “I’ve got this.”

  “I hope so, sir,” he replies, that discretion in place, but the message is clear: there’s a problem just as I feared.

  The fucking problem, I think, taking the stairs, is that dad’s go-to man won’t go to anyone else for help. Hunter’s shut everyone out, trying to run everything himself when Dad never ran everything himself. I walk through the motions of greeting the security guard at the castle door, his presence necessary, simply because of the business done here in the castle. Once I’m past the dungeon-style doors and inside the foyer, I walk to Jill’s office but stop as I hear, “I did what I could do to help. What more do you want from me?”

  I round the corner and appear in her doorway. There’s a flicker of shock on her face that tells me my brother doesn’t want to see me. What the hell is going on? “I’ll call you back,” she says to whoever is on the line, and she hangs up. “Our warehouse manager is a pain in the butt.”

  Actually, he’s not, but I don’t want to get into that right now. “Where’s Hunter?”

  “His office, but—”

  I’m already stepping into the main foyer and heading toward the gateway—the circle of archways leading to different parts of the castle. I head down the hallway to my right and up a set of stairs that walks directly into Hunter’s office. He’s not alone. There’s a man sitting in front of his desk, and Hunter is standing up, leaning on his desk, scowling at him. Hunter’s gaze lifts to mine, and for just a moment, I see anger that isn’t meant for the stranger. The man stands up to face me: tall, fit, salt and pepper hair, less salt than pepper.

  “Ah well, there he is. The other brother.”

  “Who are you?” I demand.

  Emma stirs beside me and turns over, and for reasons I could explain but don’t want to, that memory has me wrapping myself around her and holding her tightly. There are things I haven’t told her. There are things I have to tell her. Things that I set aside as unimportant, but I’m not so sure that’s the case anymore. The problem is that I know a whole lot less than I need to know about those things to ensure they don’t place her in danger. If silence would protect her, I’d stay silent, but in this case, that old saying “what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her” might not be true. That’s not a risk I can take.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jax…

  At some point, I fall asle
ep, only to wake to the dawn of a new day teasing the skylight above the bed. My nature alarm clock. I reach for the remote on the nightstand, sealing the skylight as to not wake Emma, but it’s too late for me. I’m awake and my mind is already working, which takes me no place that encourages sleep. The only reason I stay in that bed is because Emma’s snuggled close to me, but she’s also the reason I need to get up. I need to deal with my brother. I nuzzle her hair, drawing in the sweet floral scent that I can’t name, but if I could drown in it and her, I’d die a happy man.

  I force myself to ease her off of me, and she sinks into my pillow, not her own, never opening her eyes. Despite the incident with my brother last night, she’s relaxed, she feels safe, and that’s not about the castle. That’s about me, that’s about us, and how damn well we connect. I inhale again, and this time, I take in the scent that is part cedar from the giant pillars surrounding the bed and Emma. Don’t ask me how two things mesh so well, but they do. I could get used to this pairing. I could wake up to it every day, but of course, she lives in San Francisco, and I live here in Maine. Not to mention that she’s a Knight and I’m a North. And while the names don’t matter to me, and I know they don’t to her, nothing about the two of us together is as simple as what I want or what she wants it to be.

  Because we are the sum of lies.

  Lies we didn’t tell.

  Lies we tell ourselves if we say the history between our families doesn’t matter. Hell, I lied, too. I lied to Emma and to myself. My hands settle on my hips as I contemplate the cutting reality of that silent confession. My reasons for seeking out Emma didn’t end just because I’ve decided I need her in my life. I went to her seeking closure. I was looking for an ending, besides my brother’s death, that I will never believe was suicide. I don’t even know what that means or where it leads any of us, but what I do know, is the end has to come. Everything in my gut says I need to control how that happens before someone else gets hurt. That someone was almost Emma last night. The reality here is that Emma and I coming together might well be a great igniter, and the idea that I don’t know what that means sets me in motion. I walk to the bathroom and then the closet, freshen up a bit, and then with the intention of grabbing our bags, I throw on sweats, a T-shirt and sneakers.

  By the time I’m done, the bedroom remains dark with Emma still sleeping soundly. I head into the kitchen and call down to the morning crew, arranging to have our bags delivered. I then set the doorbell to ring on my phone only so it won’t wake up Emma. She needs to rest, and I need to think. By the time I’ve set-up a pot of coffee to brew, the buzzer on my phone goes off, which means the bags have arrived. I could buzz open the door and have the bags left downstairs or brought up to the kitchen, but life has taught me to value my privacy, my brother’s suspicious death, driving home that lesson. I head downstairs and open the door to greet the visitor, surprised to find Ross standing there, already in uniform.

  “You’re here early,” I comment, as he sets the bags inside the doorway, and I back up enough to allow him to enter. “I thought you hated mornings.”

  “I’ve switched to the morning shift, sir.

  I scowl. “Sir? When the hell did I become sir to you?”

  He gives me a nod. “Fair enough. Jax.”

  “When the hell did I become sir to you?” I ask again, my hands settling on my hips.

  “New rules established by Jill, or rather, Ms. Radcliff. Formality breeds professionalism as she’s stated on several occasions.”

  “Fuck formality. We’re family. You’re family. And I’m in charge. Clearly, Jill and I need to have a talk.”

  His eyes narrow and then warm, a crackle of tension in the air now fading away, but it’s not all gone. I sense that he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. “Speak your mind,” I urge.

  “I don’t believe I will,” he says.

  “Why?” I counter.

  “A lesson your father taught me and well.”

  I arch a brow. “And that lesson would be what?”.

  “Many, actually. I considered him a friend.”

  And Jill as an enemy clearly, but I don’t press him. That’s a lesson my father taught me. When you force a square into a circle, something gets broken, which basically means use finesse not force. Most people wouldn’t understand how much that lesson taught me about boxing. “He considered you a friend as well,” I finally state. “As do I. If you change your mind, all things between us are only between us.”

  He inclines his chin and turns away. I start to shut the door but have one last thought. “Ross.” He half turns to look at me and I add, “Thanks for reminding me of a lesson my father taught me.”

  “What lesson would that be?” he queries.

  “Where you see family, you find loyalty.”

  “You have my loyalty, Jax.”

  “I think it’s time I deserve it.”

  “You’ve had your hands full. The company lost two CEO’s in a year.”

  I’ve spent my time calming down customers and managing financial decisions made by both. It’s consumed me, but I won’t allow those things to become excuses. “Tell Dana I said hi,” I add, referencing his wife. In other words, I’m getting back to family. I’m taking control.

  He studies me a moment and then replies with, “I will,” and turns away.

  I shut the door, but I don’t shut out that encounter. Ross is our most senior employee. He could have sent someone else with the bags. He didn’t. He wanted to say something to me, and I don’t know what held him back. Aside from me letting Jill have far too much control. What the hell is she thinking? A tyranny isn’t how my father or brother ran this place. It’s not how we’re running it now.

  Picking up the bags, I head upstairs, setting them by the closed bedroom door before I walk back into the kitchen, pour myself a cup of coffee, and fill it with lots of cream and Splenda. I sip from the cup, replaying what just happened with Ross. What didn’t he tell me? Somehow in a seemingly unrelated memory, I’m back to walking in on Hunter with a visitor. I grab my phone from my pocket and walk into the living room that forms a circle with stone walls, framing leather furnishing, and dangling round lights hanging from beams above. I love this damn room. I love this damn castle and so did Hunter. Hunter loved the company. He loved this family. He didn’t want to die, but I can’t deny he wasn’t himself in the end.

  With that said, I walk to the double patio doors, open them and step outside. I’m about to call Savage, screw the time, he can get up, I need him, but my phone buzzes with the door alarm again. Of course, the damn security camera is out because of the random power issues in the front of my place, so I can’t see who it is, but it has to be Ross. He wanted to talk to me. I exit the patio and hurry through the castle to the basement entry. Irritated that I can’t look at the security feed, I decide right then that with Emma here, I need to pay whoever, whatever it takes, to fix the electricity.

  I open the door and immediately look down to find a large envelope lying there. I pick it up, and it’s not addressed to me. It’s addressed to Emma.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jax…

  I lock the door and consider the envelope. It has to be from Brody, the bastard. I dial him, but he doesn’t answer. I dial again. Three times I attempt to get him on the line and fail. I leave a voicemail and then call Savage. He answers in one ring. “What’s cookin’ this fine morning?”

  “Where’s Brody right now?”

  “In his bed asleep.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He snores like a motherfucker, that’s how sure I am. I have him wired. That’s how fast and good I am.”

  “Do you have me wired?”

  “I was politely—because I’m a polite motherfucker myself—waiting for permission. But for the record, your wiring is a fuck show. I looked at it to see what it was going to take.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Easy, man. I have a tech genius flying in
this morning. He’ll have it up and running in no time. And I’ll have the manpower to watch everything at once. In the meantime—”

  “In the meantime, someone left an envelope for Emma at my door. It has to be Brody.”

  “Brody’s in bed,” he says. “I told you. He’s all but sucking his damn thumb. He didn’t leave that envelope. I had his phone tapped from the minute he left the castle. The window that he could have called someone else to leave something for Emma is almost zero.”

  “No one else would know Emma to leave her something.”

  “But they know her family. How many people work here at the property?”

  “Twenty in various shifts.” I eye the stairs and decide to stay put in case Emma is now awake.

  “How many have been here long enough to know your father?”

  “Most of them. My father bred loyalty.”

  “Then there are people who know perhaps more than you do about what went on between her family and yours. But I didn’t ask the obvious. Did she open it?”

  “She’s in bed.”

  “Did you open it?”

  “No.”

  “But you want to.”

  “Of course I fucking want to.”

  “But you’re not going to.”

  “No. I can’t do that.”

  “I can. Put it back on the doorstep. I found it, not you. I’ll be right there.”

  My lashes lower, and I draw in a deep breath. “We have enough lies between families,” I say. “I’m not going to lie to Emma.”

  “She can’t open that until I confirm it’s safe. It shouldn’t be in your house right now. Is it?”

  “I’m in the foyer off my garage. I haven’t taken it upstairs.” There’s a knock on the door.

  “That’s me, asshole. Open up.”

  I disconnect and open the door to find Savage standing there, still in the jeans and Walker T-shirt I remember him wearing last night, his jaw heavily stubbled, his eyes bloodshot. “Asshole?” I challenge.