Hidden in the Stars: HITS (a Falling Stars novel) Book 2

by Sadie Grubor

"The FBI?" he asks, rounding the kitchen bar.

  Coming up behind me, he places his hands on the counter, caging me against it.

  "I don't think she has that kind of influence." Sid doesn't look up from the screen when she answers. "But, she definitely has an active social life." She turns her head toward us. "In her vagina."

  "Sounds about right," Jackson mumbles into the side of my head.

  I stiffen. Great, I've slept with a guy who fucked a whore—repeatedly.

  I open my mouth to tell him we need to talk, but Sid goes on about Kristy.

  "She has a video on here of you," she says, her focus over my shoulder on Jackson.

  "The stuff that leaked?" He moves closer to me.

  "Uh, no." Sid looks like she expects some sort of explanation.

  "That's the past," Jackson states with a touch of menace in his voice.

  His arms come around me and squeeze.

  "It better be." She uses her first and middle finger, pointing to her eyes, and then to him.

  "Anyhow, she may not have anything to prove she's the source of the leak, but she's got shit on here that wouldn't exactly keep her sweet girl model facade. She also has stuff on a few other people who would be less than thrilled to know it’s right at her fingertips." Sid turns a broad grin on us.

  It's her huntress look—her prey is in sight and she's ready to pounce. As much as I dislike this woman, hate the fact that she unleashed chaos on my son without a second thought, that look in Sid's eye makes me fear for her. Just for a moment.

  "Like what?" Jackson releases me, moving around the bar for a better view of the screens.

  "Like this." Sid clicks a couple keys and a slideshow of pictures begin.

  Kristy partying with different celebrities isn't a big deal, but the married ones snorting a line off her bare breast is another thing. Then there are the selfies with known drug dealers.

  "And this," Sid says as the photos conclude. Another tap on the keyboard and a video pops up.

  "Is that..?" I gasp, watching one of Hollywood's most sought after leading men making out in a dark corner with another man. "I didn't know he's gay."

  "I'm pretty sure he doesn't want anyone to know." Jackson’s voice is flat, his expression stoic. "That bitch would out him the minute she found a way for it to benefit her."

  "Then, there's this." Sid clicks and brings up another video.

  This time, it's Kristy having sex with three men. One heavily tattooed body catches my attention and nausea threatens until the guy’s face comes into focus. Not Jackson.

  "Who the fuck is videoing?" Jackson leans closer to the screen, disgust on his face.

  "Wait for it." Sid sits back, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Kristy releases a dick from her mouth, smiles at the camera, and reaches out her hand. The image shakes for a minute until someone places the phone on a stable surface.

  A bare ass fills the screen, the person walking toward the bed. When the woman drops to the bed, Jackson stiffens.

  "Shut the fuck up." He twists his neck to look at Sid. "Is that—?"

  "Yep. It's Felicia Ferrah, the notorious Hollywood Madame." Sid smiles. "Oh, it gets better." She half talks, half laughs.

  Felicia joins the group and I look away, unable to watch any longer.

  "Can we fast forward?" Jackson asks.

  "What? Why?" Sid loves her porn.

  I sigh loudly.

  "Okay," she grumbles, tapping a key. "Here it is."

  The video resumes at normal speed just in time to see Kristy passed out on the bed and a now-dressed man hand a stack of cash over to Felicia.

  "Did he just pay her?" I ask on a gasp. "Kristy sold herself to—”

  Sid's head is already shaking. "This video was sent to her from another IP address. I don't think she knew the deal was going down and fifty bucks says I trace that IP address to Felicia." She shrugs. "But now we have it and can do with it what we will."

  "Send it to the media vultures. Post it online," Jackson growls.

  "Wait!" I protest.

  Both of their heads turn to me.

  "I know she's done some bad shit, but come on."

  Sid gives me an are-you-fucking-crazy look. Jackson's eyes narrow.

  "Fuck her," he snaps.

  My eyes shift to Lucas and Sean. They are still staring at the TV, so I don't think they heard everything. Jackson follows my gaze.

  "Sorry," he says softly. "She deserves whatever happens to her."

  "Yeah, she deserves karma kicking her in the butt." I nod, agreeing. "I don't think we need to post something like this. She was being used."

  "She used me." He points to his chest. "Then she used you to get to me." His finger turns to me.

  "This makes us just like her." I wrap my arms around my middle and squeeze. "I'm not like her."

  "Damn it," Sid grumbles. "No, you aren't like her. Why do you have to make sense?" She gives me a half-smile.

  "Then walk away, 'cause I'm doing it." Jackson's voice is hard, ruthless.

  "Fine." A cold edge seeps into my one word response.

  Turning on my heels, I start to walk away, pausing only to say one last thing. "You aren't the man I thought you were."

  In my temporary bedroom, I find my bag and start packing things I need.

  "What are you doing?" His voice startles me.

  I spin, grabbing my chest.

  "You scared me."

  "What's this?" He steps into the room, his presence filling the space.

  "I'm packing stuff I need." Turning back to my task, I place my makeup kit inside.

  "You aren't leaving." His hand fists the bag at the open zipper.

  "What's wrong with you?" I tug on the bag.

  "So, you're just going to walk out because we don't agree on something?" He yanks the bag away, causing my body to jolt.

  Surprised by his action, I right myself and take a step away.

  "I guess you aren't the woman I thought you were," he snaps, tossing the bag to the center of the bed.

  My shock contorts into burning anger.

  "You're such an ass," I state through clenched teeth.

  "Who's the one running?" He steps closer. "What's wrong? This," he motions between us, "doesn't fit in your careful plans and schedule?"

  The barb cuts deep, causing a lump to form in my throat.

  "I don't know why I thought you would be different than the rest."

  Tears fill my eyes.

  "You want to pack your shit? Go ahead." Curling his lip, he turns and sits roughly on the bed.

  Then, it all clicks.

  He thinks I'm packing everything. That I'm leaving him.

  "Jackson?" I say, my voice softer.

  "What?" he snaps.

  I take a deep breath and close the distance between us, putting my hand on his face. He pulls away from my touch and I drop my hand, clenching it at my side instead.

  "It's my work bag. The bag I take to the club."

  His head jerks up, confusion and guilt lining his face.

  "For the club?" His brow furrows.

  "I take it with me to carry my make-up, clothes, and some of my personal costumes."

  "Fuck," he sighs.

  Snaking his long arm around my waist, he pulls me to him, his face pressing into my stomach. Lifting his face, he looks up at me.

  "I'm so sorry, Liza." Worry creases his eyes. "I keep fucking up and overreacting." He presses his forehead against me.

  "Maybe we should just end this now before someone gets hurt," I whisper, the words making my chest ache.

  His arms tighten around me and he shakes his head.

  "You didn't feel me last night," he says, laughing humorlessly.

  Setting me away from him, he stands from the bed.

  I raise my head, meeting his eyes.

  "Last night…I felt you, but we can't stay naked in bed all the time." Fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, I clench my fists at my sides.

  "That's
what you think I mean?" He steps forward, causing me to take steps back. "You think I mean physically feel me?" He shakes his head, laughing without humor again.

  Grabbing my hand, he puts it to his chest.

  "Do you feel that?" His eyes are as intense as his question.

  "Yes," I whisper.

  "This," he pats my hand on his chest, over his heart, "this is for you."

  He moves us until my back is against the wall.

  "You own it."

  I shake my head.

  "Yes, you do, Liza."

  "No. You hardly know me. Aside from sex," I add before he can make some smooth remark.

  He smiles.

  "You just blew up, thinking I was leaving. That doesn't scream healthy," I add.

  His smile fades and he nods.

  "I'm sorry." He releases my hand, but I leave it on his chest. "I came back here to say you were right and I wasn't going to send out that video. But I saw you packing things and I thought, after last night, you were just walking away from me."

  "This is so much more complicated than walking away from last night."

  His eyes search mine.

  "It doesn't have to be." There's a plea in his voice that tugs at me.

  "Lucas is getting attached to you." My chin wobbles and nose tingles.

  "Good." His hand cups my face. "'Cause I like that kid."

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and lay it all out there.

  "Jackson, it'll crush him when you leave."

  "When I leave? When?" His thumb caresses my cheek. "Why does it have to be when?"

  Everything rises to the surface in a hysterical girl moment.

  "Because I'm a single mother of basically three boys, I take my clothes off for a living, and live my life with government assistance. You don't have any idea what you're getting, and when you do, you won't stick around."

  Opening my eyes, a tear escapes, rolling over my cheek.

  He blinks once, twice, and then laughs.

  "It's not funny." I sniff.

  "Oh, Charmer, it's fucking hilarious." He presses his body flush against mine, tilting my head up to him. "First, I'm not an idiot. I know with you comes three boys and a scary ass cousin who's like a sister to you. But newsflash, Liza, Kel's a man. And Luke and Sean are the coolest little dudes I've ever met. Second, I know what you do for a living and it's equally hot, mesmerizing, and amazing. So just get that shit out of your head right now. I met you in that club and sure as fuck don't deserve you if I demanded you quit. Baby, I don't give any fucks about the role you play on stage. Want to know why?"

  His words put too much hope inside me. I swallow the emotions clogging my throat, but my nerves win out. I shake my head.

  "No, I don't want to know."

  He grins.

  "Yes, you do." His mouth presses to my forehead before saying, "It's because your mine and your ass will be in my bed after the show. In fact, your ass will be mine in your dressing room, backseat of a car, elevators, hotel rooms, and any damn where else I can get in you."

  "Oh," I squeak.

  "Yeah, 'oh'."

  His mouth slants over mine, pressing me into the wall. Breaking the kiss, I push at his chest until he straightens.

  "We need to talk about last night," I say between pants of breath.

  "What about it?" His free hand comes up and cups the other side of my face.

  "You didn't use a condom," I announce, my words a broken whisper.

  His brow furrows just before his eyes widen.

  "Shit. I'm sorry." His hands drop and he backs away. "I swear, I didn't do that shit on purpose."

  Closing my eyes, I gather my courage, and say, "You've slept with Kristy."

  "We used condoms. She was paranoid about pregnancy," he explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "And the…the others?" I choke on the question.

  "Condoms." The guilt and embarrassment are noticeable in his answer. "But I'll get tested. Anything you want."

  I nod and drop the next bomb.

  "I'm not on birth control," I rush out, my eyes still closed. "It was only once, so I doubt that it…that I could be pregnant, but you should know."

  His hands grab the sides of my face again.

  "Look at me. Please. Look. At. Me," he begs.

  Slowly, I open my eyes.

  The second his eyes find mine, he says, "I'm an asshole and didn't think. I'm sorry."

  I nod, unable to speak without spilling tears of emotional exhaustion.

  "Liza, honestly, I didn't do it on purpose."

  Gripping his wrists, I nod. "S'okay."

  "No, it's not." He presses his forehead to mine. "I'm always apologizing to you."

  "Well, you fuck up a lot," I say, trying for humor.

  It works. He plants his hands on the wall beside my head and starts chuckling, which grows into a full belly laugh. A smile breaks across my face and I start laughing, too.

  After both of us calm and catch our breath, we stare at one another for a long moment. Jackson breaks the silence.

  "You know I'm okay if you're pregnant, right?" His eyes don't leave mine.

  The doorbell chimes through the penthouse.

  This place has a doorbell?

  I open my mouth to respond, but he continues. "I do have one condition."

  "Condition?"

  "You'll have to marry me." He shrugs.

  "What?" I choke out.

  "Hey, Jackson?" Sid's voice carries down the hall. "There are some people here for you."

  Ignoring Sid's announcement, he continues.

  "My mom didn't raise me to have a baby momma." He grins. "I'm afraid you're going to have to marry me or my death is on your conscience."

  I shake my head. "You're joking."

  "Guess we'll find out."

  He places a quick kiss on my mouth before turning and walking out of the room.

  "No, we won't!" I shout.

  Bag finally packed, I carry it down the hall. Multiple voices grow louder the closer I come to the living space.

  Dropping my things to the floor near the door, I continue forward and take in a room full of people. Both The Forgotten and Hushed Mentality fill the open space.

  Christopher Mason sits on the couch with Mia Ryder in his lap and my son sits in a beanbag in front of them, gazing adoringly at her.

  Oh, dear Lord. Could he be more obvious?

  On the far end of the sofa, Jimmy Thompson sits on the edge, elbows on his knees. A very pregnant Serena lounges on the other side of Chris. She has at least three throw pillows around her and still looks uncomfortable. And then, to my surprise, Laney Trimball, Jackson's ex, sits on Serena's left.

  Looking toward the kitchen, Kat Conway sits on a stool next to Sid and Kel, viewing the screens. I can only hope Sid isn't showing the homemade cell porn to my brother. And Jackson stands in the kitchen with a heavily muscled Elliott Brockman.

  Elliott notices me first.

  "There she is!"

  I take a small step back as Elliott stalks toward me.

  Christ, he's way bigger in person. Especially when he's charging toward you.

  His large, muscled arm comes around my shoulders, guiding me to the couch.

  "Girl, you shut that fucking show down!" he howls.

  "What?" I laugh, his enthusiasm contagious.

  "The website and voting lines blew up." Making an explosion sound, he raises his fist and flips his fingers out like his hand just blew up.

  "Fat lot of good that does me." I continue to laugh.

  "Doesn't matter." He shakes his head, stopping us in the middle of the room. "It was goddamn epic," he says with reverence, hugging me.

  I stiffen.

  "Quit molesting her." Jackson pulls him off.

  "Christ," Elliott rolls his eyes, walking toward the sofa and pushing his large body between Serena and Laney.

  "Hey," Laney squeals, scooting away before he smashes her into the couch.

  He ignores her and p
uts an arm around Serena.

  "He's going to be as bad as emo boy," Elliot finishes, pointing to Chris with his other hand.

  "Shut the hell up," Chris retorts.

  Mia smacks his leg, nodding toward Lucas and Sean.

  Jackson wraps his arms around my waist.

  I stiffen again, forcing myself not to look at Laney's reaction.

  "Ignore the ape," he says before pressing his lips to my temple.

  Guiding us to an open spot on the couch, I can't help but glance at Laney.

  A smile adorns her delicate face, and I swear she seems jubilant. She catches my gaze and her smile grows larger, her eyes softer. She’s pleased for Jackson.

  I return the smile and allow Jackson to settle us onto the sofa. He situates me against his side, spreading his arms out over the back.

  "So, what are we doing tonight?" Elliott asks, looking at the group around the room.

  "We could go to dinner?" Laney's suggestion sounds more like a question.

  "Food is always good. Huh, baby?" Elliott leans into Serena and rubs her belly.

  "It better not be some Sushi place." Serena narrows her eyes on Laney.

  "I didn't even say a place," Laney defends.

  "I've got a meeting this afternoon and then I'm going to Lux."

  Twisting my neck, I look up at Jackson.

  "You're coming to the club tonight?"

  His arm slips off the back of the couch and around me.

  "Of course." His brow furrows. "Why wouldn't I?"

  Shrugging, I answer, "I just didn't know you were coming."

  "I want to do that!" Elliott points at Jackson. "Can we go, too?" He turns pleading eyes on his wife.

  "Do you need permission from your mommy?" Jimmy teases, sticking his bottom lip out.

  Elliott grins wide at Jimmy. "Hey, if she'll breastfeed me, I'll call her mommy."

  "You're sick," Jimmy laughs.

  Serena drops her head back on the cushion and groans.

  "Sick?" Elliott snorts. "Have you seen the size of these bad boys?"

  His hand almost makes it to her breast, but Serena's head snaps up and she snatches his wrist.

  "I will cut off your favorite body part before you can reach my boob," she threatens.

  My boys burst into laughter, throwing themselves back on the bean bags. I bite my lip, trying not to giggle. Jackson's chest vibrates with his silent laugh.

  "You never let me touch them anymore." Elliott sits back, crossing his arms over his chest, pouting.